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I pat his shoulder. “Don’t get overexcited. I’ll hang on to these, and you can give your message to Mr. Ferragamo.”
“The letteristhe message,” he protests.
The elevator pings and opens directly into the penthouse. Cassius looks up from the sofa where he’s reading on his tablet and raises his dark brows. He was expecting to see me, but he wasn’t expecting our guest.
“Lorenzo’s on his way. This man has something for us.”
Stephan starts to say that his message is for Mr. Ferragamo, but Cassius closes his tablet and speaks over him.
“Why is Scava coming here?”
“I told you why. I’ll have a vodka. Anything for you?” I ask, turning to Stephan, who shakes his head.
Scowling, Salvatore disappears into the next room and comes back a moment later with two Grey Goose vodkas on the rocks. It’s always Grey Goose at Cassius’ penthouse and at his clubs. I take a mouthful, watching Stephan stare around at the enormous interior and the view of Coldlake through the floor to ceiling windows.
Five minutes later, the elevator doors slide open and Lorenzo strides in wearing a vicious glare and a white T-shirt spattered with blood. “I was in the middle of something.”
Lorenzo’s always in the middle of something. The man doesn’t know how to relax. I nod at his shirt. “Who died?”
“No one yet, so fucking get on with it.”
“Vodka?”
“I said get on with it.”
I look at Stephan. “Go on. Tell them what you told me about Chiara Romano.”
At the sound of her name, the other two stop scowling and perk up. Lorenzo’s tattooed arms have been crossed tightly over his bloodied chest, but now they loosen.
Stephan steps closer to Cassius. “Mr. Ferragamo, I came here tonight with a very important message from Miss Romano. She said I should only deliver it to you.”
“It’s Miss Romano’s birthday today, isn’t it?” Cassius murmurs, peering at the ice in his glass. He knows it’s her birthday. Last year on this day we all met the blonde beauty, and at the end of the night we watched as her mother was murdered.
Cassius was the one who was covered in blood that night. There was blood and pool water all over Chiara, and he was the one to grab her when she tried to jump into the swimming pool after her mother. He walked her away from the edge of the pool and stayed close to her, fearing she might try it again.
Chiara was eerily calm. Shaking slightly, but totally silent.
We listened as Mayor Romano called the police and told them that he’d just found his wife dead in the swimming pool. Then he told the four of us to leave.
Chiara grabbed hold of Cassius, the man who’d awkwardly tried to comfort her after her father had just slit her mother’s throat, and started screaming hysterically. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here alone with him.”
Cassius prised her fingers from his arm and pushed her away. We all left before the police could arrive, Chiara’s sobs echoing through the house. Standing by our cars, the four of us looked at each other, and at the bloody water soaking Cassius’ shirt, and I knew we were thinking of the same four people.
Amalia.
Evelina.
Sienna.
And Ophelia.
“That was fucked up,” Cassius seethed. He got into his SUV, slammed the door and roared away.
Now here we are on the anniversary of that night, and Chiara Romano has something for us.
“Yes, it’s her birthday,” Stephan confirms. “Mr. Fiore came for dinner, and then after, Miss Romano had me come here with a message.”
“Well, where is it?” Cassius snaps.
