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“Can you not see what this means?” My heart resumes its new duty of hammering against my chest. Since the night he took me from the rave and to Boston, my heart has been unable to go a day without wanting to claw its way out of my chest.
I wanted out, I want to be done with this, not to get dragged deep into it. How does he expect me to find my way out of this?
“There is no need to be scared,” he says, “I'm here to protect you.”
“The same way you said you brought my father to Boston to keep him safe?”
We might as well get all our cards on the table and let everything out. He is not a saint. He killed my father, but all of a sudden I'm supposed to work with him to get revenge on his uncle.
“I did not kill your father” he grits, “Paul was supposed to come to Boston for you but he came and switched sides.”
“And you killed him for that,” I clip.
“Why the hell would I kill your father? The man has always been dancing around his grave because of his gullibility, it was only a matter of time before someone pushed him inside the hole he dug for himself.”
“And you made yourself that someone?” I retrieve my hands.
“Have you been listening to me at all?” he stands, “Rosaline, whoever killed your father is out there. They will not stop until they get what they want. I don't think your father was ever their real target, especially since the deed was done in my house,” he groans, “I am not implying anything or trying to shift the blame, but I didn't kill your father and if I did, I would say it without a problem.”
“How am I even supposed to trust anything you’re saying?”
“You can trust me because I just told you about my plans to kill Claudio,” he continues, “One word from you and he will take me down, me and my mother both.”
He does have a point. But don't they always want something or have a reason? My father had a reason when he gave my hand in marriage to Romano. Claudio had a reason when he asked me to be with Benedetto. Lawrence had a reason when he asked me to spy on Benedetto. Everyone has a reason and a point and I wonder why they're making it to me.
“I need to use the restroom,” I cover my face with my palms and sniff.
“Rosaline if you try escaping, you'll die from the height, please don't do something stupid,” he closes the distance, “I can go to another room and leave you to process this, if you want.”
I shake my head. “You hit me with that revelation and want to leave me alone with myself?” I scoff, throwing my hands in the air. “What part ofI don't want to be alone tonightdo you not get?”
I know that's not what is making me red with anger right now but it feels like a justifiable reason to be angry. I'm pissed, and it's not just at him, it's at everything that has happened to me lately. I'm pissed at everyone around me.
“I'm sorry, I'm not going anywhere,” he lifts both hands slightly.
I nod, taking in deep calming breaths, “I won't do anything stupid, I just need…” I skim the white and black choice of interior for the room. I just need to get the hell away from him for now.
“I'll be out here,” he walks to the bathroom door and dips both hands in his pockets, waiting.
A lot of weird shit is happening tonight. Like me wanting to be in the same room with him rather than have a separate room where I can sleep comfortably without his despicable presence. It’s like a dormant part of me trusted him when he said he didn't kill my father, even though all fingers pointed at him. And now, I need to think over his idea of helping him in his plot to kill his uncle. But what I'm not going to do is jump off this building to escape him. I'm not that delusional.
I push the door of the bathroom open and walk in, tired of glaring at him and conflicted between wanting to punch him inthe face or hug him tightly. I close the door behind me and then rest my back on it. The bathroom is monochrome white and it reminds me of the hell I had escaped earlier from Carlos. What a day. What a life. Maybe I am the problem.
I stare blankly at my reflection in the mirror opposite me, above the sink. I'm still the same person but I don't feel the same. Same hair, same face, same body, but there's something off about me. I feel robbed. Why would he show up and spin the wheels of my life so hard I can't find my balance or go back to the spot where it started.
Tears dance in my vision and I let them break free, streaking down my flushed cheeks. Romano is married now, which means I can come back to New York, but how can I survive on my own so quickly, especially now that the news of my father’s demise will become media food?
I will be an easy target, and it will be too hard with no friends and a city full of enemies. I need Benedetto for now. And I believed him when he said he could protect me. I know he can and he will do whatever to keep me safe.
But at what cost?
Me. I am the price. He wants me. He wants to keep me. Not keep me safe. He wants to keep me for himself. I just have to make sure I find my feet before he gets bored with me. What he would do when he gets bored is left to be seen.
I have seen snippets of his anger lately and it has erased the memory of that easy-going person I knew him to be. There is nothing easy about him. Now I see past his smiles and the facade he wears as easily as he changes clothes. I have to tread carefully.
I inhale sharply. I walk to the sink and turn the faucet on for water to rush out. I take some in my cupped palm and splash it on my face. Since this is what my life has come to, I might as well live it fully. I open the drawer beside the mirror, pluck a white hand towel to pat my face dry, and then walk out.
Benedetto is sitting on the loveseat, shirtless and barefoot, but he still has his dress pants on. He is playing with the white synthetic rose flower in a black box on the table.
