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“Of course it does.” Her heels clack over the kitchen floor. “Does it include a chef too?”
“Maybe it should, smart mouth,” he says, his lips quirking.
“Hey.” I look between them. “I know how to cook.”
My feeble protest is lost on them. They’re sharing one of their private moments when Ryan ushers his wife outside with his hand on the small of her back.
I follow them onto the veranda.
Staring at the flat surface of the sea, he says, “It’s something, isn’t it?”
I glance at him sideways. “Like I said, it’s too much.”
His signature smile is intact when he tears his gaze from the view and fixes it on me. “Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I do, but I don’t need so much space.” Not to mention that Camps Bay is one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Cape Town. The rent must be extortionately high.
“This is really way too much,” Celeste says, pulling her mouth into a frown. “We never had anything like this, not even after we got married. We had to be content with the house in Bloubergstrand.”
“Celeste,” he says in a stern tone.
“No, she’s right.” I walk to the edge of the pool. “I’ll be more than happy with a room in the student dorm.”
“It’s not up for discussion.” Ryan drops his hand from Celeste’s back to intertwine their fingers. “If you’d like to redecorate or get different furniture—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say quickly. “The place is perfect as it is. I just think—”
His mouth pulls up in one corner. “Good. Then that’s settled. I’ll arrange for your clothes to be moved tomorrow.”
I don’t have the energy to argue. I simply accept that from now on I’m living here alone.
Alone.
It’s a lie. Since the day Angelo Russo walked into my life, I’ve never been alone. It’s not going to change now. The thought sends a shiver through me.
“The breeze is cold,” Ryan says. “Let’s go back inside.”
His phone rings as he slides the doors closed. Taking it from his pocket, he presses it against his ear. Whatever the person on the other end of the line says darkens his expression. He clenches the phone in a white-knuckled grip.
“I see,” he says after a moment. “Keep me posted.”
“What happened?” Celeste asks when he ends the call.
Ryan looks at me. “Santino Russo is dead.”
The words sink in slowly. Someone’s death shouldn’t make me happy, but after what he did to my dad, I can’t help but feel a measure of satisfaction. Relief.
There are many things I could ask, but the question that takes priority is, “How?” Because I hope he suffered.
Ryan sneers. “Heart attack.”
The first thought that runs through my mind is if Angelo had time to say goodbye. “When?”
“Yesterday.”
I search my brother’s eyes. “Who told you?”
“I have informants in high places who keep me updated with the current state of affairs.”
