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“Why?” he asks, anger creeping into his voice.
“I don’t know. I think he likes to make me suffer.”
“That motherfucker. When will you listen to me, Bella? You need to cut that asshole out of your life.”
“Can we not talk about it?” I sink down on a chair. “Please?”
“You sound tired.”
“It’s been a tough day.”
“How about I get pizza, and we eat at your place? We can study a little if you’re up for it after dinner.”
“Actually, that sounds kind of amazing.” I wipe a hand over my brow. “I really appreciate it, Colin.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “That’s what friends are for. I’ll be over at six. Do you have wine?”
“Ryan left some bottles from the bulk he bought at a wine farm.”
“Open one so long,” he says before hanging up.
I glance at the darkening sky through the windows. Roch is no longer around. I remember what Angelo told him when he pushed me out of the boat. I deserved that push. I overreacted, not having been myself on that awful day. Angelo didn’t have to pull Roch off the job. It was a severe act, but I’m not complaining about the fact that he’s gone. However, I’m under no illusion that Angelo replaced him. There’s someone else watching now, someone I don’t know.
Jumping into action, I rush to the wall panel and push on the button to lower the shutters.
ChapterTwenty
Angelo
Sitting behind the desk in the chair that belonged to my father, I stare at the dark screen of the phone in my hand. The house is never empty. There’s always Heidi and the rest of the staff. Double the number of guards patrol the perimeter of the property. Yet the silence creeps up on me at times like this, mocking me with the voices that nowadays only sound in my head. Adeline’s laughter. The rattle of my father’s cough. My mother humming to the radio in the kitchen.
My uncles and cousins are often here, a lot more than before. They probably think it’s wiser to check in on me. I haven’t been myself in a long time. I’ve never been drunk as often as I am of late.
I turn the phone over. I was drunk when I sent that message to Sabella seven months ago. I came home from a house I’d built to honor my mother’s family, polished half a bottle of Scotch, and typed the inappropriate text. I still don’t know why. I only know I was raging. Angry. Blaming myself for everything. Blaming Sabella. Blaming her for not being well enough or strong enough to be here with me.
In two weeks, she’ll turn nineteen. I’ve been patient. More than patient. I want what’s mine. I want what I paid for, and I paid dearly. We both have. It’s time to turn the page and start a new chapter. It’s time to lay down the ghosts and fill this house with voices again. Real voices.
The ringtone of the phone pulls me from my dark thoughts. I check the screen. It’s Toma. Uncle Nico must’ve put him on babysitting duty again. I consider ignoring my cousin, but I’m not focusing on the investment analysis on the laptop screen in front of me. Even as I take the call, I pour four fingers of Scotch.
“Toma.”
“Angelo, you need to come over to the house.”
I swallow a mouthful of alcohol. “I am in the house.”
“The new house.”
I clench my fingers around the glass. Since I moved the old man and his family into that house, he’s given me nothing but trouble. I haven’t set foot in it in a month. Work kept me busy. It takes time to run a multibillion-euro business, and it takes more time turning that business into a global empire.
“What’s wrong?” I ask with a grunt, setting the glass aside. I don’t need these complications.
“You’ve got to come and see this.”
I want to tell him to deal with whatever it is, but I created this problem. My father warned me, and I didn’t listen. Solving yet another tricky situation is fair punishment.
“I’ll be there in thirty,” I say.
On my way out, I tell Heidi I’ll be late for lunch. In the car, I can think. I always reflect better when I’m driving. My senses are alert despite the fact that I just downed a drink. I shouldn’t be driving, but there are a lot of things I shouldn’t do.
