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Mama takes one look at my face and her features harden. “I’m calling the doctor. Girls, get ice for her, right now.”
She and Gin leave, my sister returning moments later with two bags of frozen vegetables.
Arianna and Ravenna grab pillows and blankets from my bed, toss them on the floor, then settle down around me. Ravenna pulls a thin blanket over my shoulders as Arianna stuffs a pillow beneath my head. Gin presses a frozen bag to the side of my face.
“Did Roman do this to you?” Arianna gently asks.
I nod.
Ginevra gasps. “He beat you?”
“No.” I lift the bag from my bruised cheek. “Nik did this. It’s fine, he’s dead now.” More tears escape my eyes and I wipe them away, showing my damp fingers to my sisters and cousin. “Roman didthis,” I sob.
They come in close, rubbing my back and arms. In silence, they let me cry myself out—again.
Once it’s over, Ravenna asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. What is there to say? It’s over.
For once, Gin doesn’t press for more. Which I appreciate. She takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry, Soph, we’ve got your back. If he ever shows his face around here again, we’ll give him hell.”
I nod. Grasping for a subject change, I ask, “Where’s Elena?”
“She went back to Italy right after the wedding,” Ravenna says. “She’s not done finding herself, or whatever she’s doing over there. She says she’s just visiting family, but she’s been there for the better part of a year and so far has no intention of coming home. Not that I blame her.”
Ravenna sometimes makes vague remarks like that about her home life, but she’s never elaborated. Her father, Papa’s brother, is a cold and calculating type of man. I’ve never seen him show much warmth toward his daughters.
“Maybe Elena has a secret Italian boyfriend,” Gin jokes.
My temples throb. “Can we not talk about boyfriends, or weddings, or anything like that, please.”
We descend into silence. Which is fine by me. I just want quiet.
CHAPTER30
Roman
Two minutes. That’s as long as I lasted before I broke and went after Sophia. Thanks to my driver, I tracked her to her parents’ house, but it was too late, they wouldn’t let me in.
That was five days ago. Five agonizing days.
Since then, I’ve called her and left a plethora of voicemails. All of them go unanswered. Same for the thousands of texts I’ve sent. Given that her parents won’t let me inside, I’ve sent deliveries of flowers, chocolates, even Luis’s garlic breadsticks with apology notes begging her to answer me. Nothing.
I haven’t been home since then either. Every night I camp out in my car in front of her house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her through the windows. In the morning, I shower and change in my office building’s locker room before heading upstairs to work.
Work which mainly consists of staring at the wall, drinking single malt Scotch until I’m wasted, and snapping at Eve every time she pokes her head in here to check on me.
She’s a nuisance. I already told her to clear my schedule. No meetings. No phone calls. I don’t want to be interrupted.
As if she hasn’t learned her lesson already, my assistant cracks my door open again. “Boss, you have a visitor.”
“I told you, I’m not seeing anybody today.” I lounge on the leather sofa, half-empty Scotch bottle in hand. I gave up on glasses after day one. What’s the point when I have to keep refilling it? The bottle’s a better option. One of these and I manage to drift off for a couple of hours.
Passing out drunk is the only sleep I get that’s not plagued by nightmares of losing Sophia, only to wake up to realize that Ihavelost Sophia. Then I repeat the cycle, again and again.
“Well, this visitor, Boss, you’re going to see whether you like it or not.” Eve swings the door wider and steps aside.
