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It's unlike Eden to address any of Sergio or Adriano's staff. I wonder what prompted this.
Maybe she loves me, too. I reach for her hand and give it a tight, silent squeeze before I enter the car.
When I finally get back to our apartment—his apartment? I don't know anymore—I wander around aimlessly, walking on the gleaming hardwood floor in my bare feet, trying to make sense of it all.
He keeps everything so tucked up, so tightly wound, that when he finally lets himself loose, he loses his mind.
I think back to what Starla told me, about the little boy on the street blacklisted from anyone who could help him. I think about what Helena told me, casually mentioning how many men he killed that came in contact with a former girlfriend. I think about what Eden said about him killing that very same girlfriend…
Do I really know him? I barely know myself, why do I think that I actually know who he is?
Do I really trust him? My knees wobble, and I reach for a chair. I find myself sitting awkwardly at his desk. Like everything else in Adriano's home, it's stark and bare. I bury my head in my arms.
My elbow touches something cold. I ignore it at first, too consumed with my feelings… and my fears. I don't realize I'm crying again until I feel the dampness on my arms.
I sit up impatiently, swiping at the cold metal at my elbow.
A key. I look around the apartment, knowing that guards are tucked away in various corners, behind doors, at the front and back. No one's getting in here.
Then why does my skin prickle? Why is a sudden flare of awareness making me feel very, very awake?
I pick up the key on the desk and finger it. I remember rifling through his wallet. Trying to find out who my husband is.
I almost wish I had chosen ignorance.
This looks like a desk key. I idly wonder if he left it here for me to find. No… he’s too direct for something like that… Adriano Bruno doesn’t play games like that.
I slide it into the top drawer and when it doesn't open, I go to the next, and the next, and the next, until I finally give up.
It doesn’t belong here.
But when I stand, I notice on the front panel of the desk, where my knees would hit if I sat at it, there's the tiniest glint of metal. My pulse quickens. It’s a lock.
I slip the key in. I already know before I turn it that it's going to open.
The panel comes loose and opens to a drawer. My heart pounding madly in my chest, I retrieve a legal-size folder. I look to the door, as if waiting for Adriano to burst in at any moment, or one of my guards. But nobody's here. I'm alone.
I open the folder and realize I'm not breathing. My pulse racing, I flip through the contents of the envelope, disbelieving.
No. No.No…
* * *
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
“AFTERMATH”
Adriano
"Let me go, brother."
Sergio stares at me, knowing he's testing me. I know I shouldn’t have lost my shit in the club like this, not where people could watch us, definitely not in front of Quinn.
Mario speaks up. "Serg, honestly, I’d have kicked his ass, too." He pauses. “Maybe not asthoroughly…”
Mario knows the news that we got today didn't help. If anything, it's had me on fucking edge all day. It's killing me not to run out of here right now, hunt her down and make sure that she’s well within my eyesight.
But I have to take care of this situation first. Before Sergio locks me up, or worse.
