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“Oh my gosh, it’s ‘The Raven,’” I exclaimed. “It’s Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, ‘The Raven.’ But why is this in the room? Why is it in an envelope and in a box?” I bit down on my lower lip. I didn’t understand why Antonio had given me a written version of the poem “The Raven.” I tried to think back to our conversations. Had we ever discussed Edgar Allan Poe or anything about ravens? Not that I could remember. I took a deep breath. I felt like I was going mad—absolutely bonkers. Nothing was making sense—absolutely nothing. And the worst part of it all was that I wished Antonio was here to hold me, which was crazy and sick because he was the one that had me here in the first place. “You really are one of those stupid women, Callie,” I told myself off as I sat on the bed. As I sat there and looked around the room, I started needing the bathroom again, but I was scared to go back into that small bathroom. I was afraid that I would hear my mom’s song again. I didn’t want to hear a female voice singing.
I didn’t want to be reminded of my mother at that moment, but I knew I had to go. I was going to have to be brave. I stood up and made my way toward the door, but then I paused. I looked over to the mantlepiece and stared at the painting sitting to the right. “Was that a raven?” I spoke out loud and rushed over to the painting, my heart racing. There was a painting of a raven in the room. That had to mean something. I looked at it to see if there was anything on it that would give me a clue, but it was just a regular painting—nothing special about it. It didn’t even look like it was done by a master. I was about to go back to the restroom when I decided to lift the painting off the wall. I turned it over and gasped as I saw that it was torn at the back. I touched it gingerly, scared that something nasty might pop out, but what I found was that there was a little hole.
I slipped my fingers in and pulled out a photograph. I stared at the photograph. My head was pounding now. “What the fuck?” I said under my breath. It was a photograph of my mother sitting in a dark room, and she was holding a newborn baby. That must have been me. I’d never seen the photo before. My mother’s face looked stressed, but I supposed she would’ve felt that way after childbirth. “Oh, Mama, Mama.” I started crying. How I wished she was here to tell me everything was going to be okay.
Then the lights turned out again. “Antonio, stop it. You win, okay? You’re driving me crazy. You’ve officially driven me crazy. What more do you want from me?” And then, a recording started, and I recognized the voice. It was Don Roberto Marchesi’s. I stiffened and pressed myself against the wall. Was he the one responsible for this? I pressed my lips together. He was mumbling about something, and then he started laughing, a nasty cackle I recognized all too well.
“If only that bastard knew I got his wife pregnant. That’s what he gets for sleeping with my wife. He doesn’t even know that we have a child together.”
My jaw dropped, and I felt sick. I fell to the ground in shock. What was he saying? Was Don Roberto Marchesi my father? It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. I’d kill myself if that were true, if that meant that Antonio—
No, I couldn’t even think about it. This was some sort of sick, twisted game. They were in it together. They were trying to drive me mad, and it was going to work because it hadn’t even been a day. And already the mind games, sounds, smells and everything was getting to me. I did not want to do this anymore. I just wanted to give up.
30
Antonio
“Antonio, are you sure you want to do this?” Alessandro asked me as we sat in my study. Jimmy was in the living room with Elisabetta, Imogen, and Gia. He’d ordered some pizza and was trying to calm them down. He’d looked battered. His face was black and blue, and if I hadn’t known how strong Jimmy was, I would’ve almost felt bad for how much they’d done to him. But I would make Tommasso and his men pay, and I knew Jimmy would make them pay as well. I was surprised they hadn’t done more to me. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t been beaten to a pulp or even killed. I knew Tommasso Romano hated me, and it wasn’t like he cared if I lived or died.
Perhaps it was out of some loyalty to my father who, even though he despised me, was keen to carry on the Marchesi name. That was one thing my dad cared about beside himself and his lineage, and I was his firstborn son. I was as cold and as cruel as him. Only it didn’t please me to know that anymore. I used to revel in the fact that I was cold, a wolf, treacherous and arrogant. People feared and hated me, and I saw that as a sign of respect. But that had been before I’d met Callie Rowney. Who knew that a sweet little twenty-two-year-old lamb would change me? Not I. It was laughable to think that I was this worried about her and her wellbeing, especially when I was the one who’d arranged for her to be kidnapped in the first place. But this was different. This had not been part of the plan.
“Jimmy says he doesn’t know who the leak was,” I told Alessandro.
“You believe him?”
I nodded. “We can trust Jimmy.”
“I know,” Alessandro started but stopped as I gave him a look.
“We can trust Jimmy,” I repeated.
“I know,” he said again. “I’m just saying someone had to be a leak, and if it wasn’t Jimmy, then I don’t know who it was. We got a lot of problems, bro. We got Melba’s.”
“I know.”
“We’ve got Lupo’s. We got to get rid of Lucio,” he said.
“One thing at a time.”
“I know,” he said.
“You and Gia going to be okay? You look like you’re about to go at it.”
“She’s fine,” he said, shrugging. “You know women.”
“Uh-huh, biblically, but have you known Gia biblically?” I asked him, one of my eyebrows raising.
“Why the fuck would you ask me that?”
“Because you and her used to be best friends, and now I can’t tell if you want to rip each other’s heads off or fuck each other’s brains out.” I shrugged. “The sexual chemistry, I could cut it with a knife, bro.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind, Antonio? There ain’t no sexual chemistry between me and Gia.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
Alessandro sighed.
“I’ve got to call Tommasso now.”
