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Everything reminded me of Zeno.
“I couldn’t either, Dai. All the girls he trafficked. All the young girls he purchased and raped. It’s unbelievable.”
Just thinking about Armel caused rage to burrow in my bones. Dacia offered to drive us to the cemetery so we could spit on his grave and smash his tombstone. I was very tempted to ask Ella for her trusted baseball bat.
“This is prime evidence. He was a monster, Darla.” She twisted the gold rings on her long fingers. “And we treated him like family. I feel sick.”
“I feel sick too, but it’s not our fault. None of us knew his true nature.”
“Do you want to tell Mother?”
“No. The less people know, the better. I don’t want to risk anyone finding out that Zeno killed Armel,” I admitted. “I only told you because you deserved to know the truth. I trust you’ll keep what Zeno did to yourself.”
My husband was right about one thing.
If he had gone to jail, a rite of passage for many men of his status, the city would have been bathed in blood. He had many allies who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet into Diane Hill and anyone involved in thrusting such a prolific, underworld player behind bars. Zeno would have made it out of jail unscathed with ‘missing evidence,’ but the body count of dead people would have been irreversible.
In his own punisher ways, Zeno delivered justice by choosing the lesser evil—blackmailing the Hill women.
As angry as I wanted to be with him, I could no longer hold onto that emotion. His methods were unorthodox, but I understood them now.
“I promise you Zeno’s secret is safe with me and I’m actually relieved that he killed such a piece of shit.” Dacia grabbed my hands, which was surprising considering my sister wasn’t the touchy-feely kind. “Darla, I was livid when he blackmailed us. However, I forgive him because I can see why he did it. I forgive him…because I see how happy he makes you. You’re practically glowing. Every time you’re both together, it’s like magic. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t say the words out loud for the first time to someone that wasn’t him. Therefore, I settled for the next best thing, “I am not divorcing him. He’s stuck with me.”
Dacia cracked a rare grin. “Atta girl. Hold onto your sugar daddy.”
He was a little young to be a sugar daddy, but he did give me plenty of sugar. “Does your forgiving him have anything to do with the fact that he bought you a month’s worth of vacation in Europe and a brand-new Vespa?”
My sister actually laughed. “Maybe.”
One of Zeno’s love languages was acts of service. This man never hesitated to drop a couple of grands on anyone he cared for, going above and beyond to provide for his family members. Including myself and Dacia.
My sister had warmed up to the De la Croixes’ and had dinner with us twice a week. Yves and Céline even renovated a guest room for her. My mother-in-law liked to send pictures of her dalmatians to Dacia, while Éva always begged my sister to come to her dance recitals. Alberto too visited the estate often, especially since Zeno took him out for weekly drives in his vintage cars. My husband went out of his way to bring joy to the only father figure I’d known my whole life—cherishing Alberto’s old man cackle every time he sat in a convertible and felt wind rushing over his bald head—and it was one of the sweetest things about Zeno.
I loved how our families had seamlessly meshed.
Thinking about Zeno depressed me, so I switched topics. “What else is new with you, Dai?”
She tugged down the skirt of her dress when she crossed her legs. “Nothing. Just work and more work. You?”
Sunlight streamed through the bay window in my room. I had a direct view of the south gardens and the magnolia trees were simply breathtaking. This entire estate was such a source of inspiration; the scenery was a writer’s dream. “My book is almost done.”
“In case I don’t say it enough, I’m so proud of you, Darla.”
“You don’t.” I smiled and nudged her foot good-naturedly. “By the way, I’ve had this idea spinning in my mind for a while. I don’t know if I should take the leap and do it or…”
“Do share with the class.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “I want to start my own publishing house.”
Dacia’s eyes widened and a slow smile crept over her face.
“As of now, I’ve drafted a business plan, but it’s still in the early stages. I’d love to have my own publishing company and republish all my old and upcoming novels under one house. I also think with time and the right resources, I can help sign on other Canadian women authors and help us get the exposure we deserve in this industry.”
I’d always been an advocate for women empowerment and leadership. I hoped with this venture I could shine some light on the wonderful romance stories written by women of all shapes and sizes and colour.
My sister’s eyes glimmered. “Darla, this is the best idea you’ve ever had.”
