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“Thank you,” I say to him once she’s out of view. “I hate her.”
“I’m only following orders,” Antonio says in his same no-bullshit tone.
“Orders to do as I say?” I ask hopefully.
“Don’t let it get to your head. I was told to use my judgment, and Bernice is a bitch. Besides, between you and me? I’m still pissed at you.”
I flinch away from him, but not out of fear. More out of embarrassment.
“I’m sorry about that. Truly, I am. Are you okay?”
He glares at me for a moment and says, “Fine now. Recovery was hell. Thought I’d go blind.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was—I was out of my mind. Can you at least understand that a little?”
He holds my gaze, but he nods. “Yeah, I get it. Don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t. I swear. I truly am sorry. I’ve never hurt anyone my whole life and I feel terrible about it.”
He nods again, turning to leave down the hall without another glance my way.
Enzo gave him orders to listen to me? Maybe not in so many words, but it means something, doesn’t it? It must mean, in some way, Enzo trusts me. Which is exactly what I wanted. Earn his trust so I can get out.
Things have been so good this past month, but now there could be a baby involved, and that’s the biggest reason of all to get the hell out of here the second I can.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Bramante?”
I look over my shoulder at the staff carrying hangers of my clothes. I move out of the way so they can get by, watching as the line of them walks down the hallway, disappearing around the curve leading to Enzo’s bedroom.
This really is happening. I blink a few times, and glance back into my room to see the unicorn he bought me lying on my bed. I hurry in there to pick it up, then make my way to my new room.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Vincenzo
My father’s house is large and daunting, like a haunted mansion you’d see on television. It’s old, built sometime in the late 1700s, but there have been so many updates I doubt that date can be considered accurate anymore.
Rocco stops in front of the veranda that leads to the front door and idles the car.
“Need me to go in with you?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
I grab the door handle and tug on it to get the hell out. If I don’t get this moving, I’m never going to do it at all.
The key to his house is one I rarely use, because I never come here anymore. But I still know exactly which one it is on the ring, so it’s easy to find. It slips into the lock just as easily, and after a few seconds, I’m pushing my way into the house and entering the code to shut off the alarm. It’s used more for him nowadays, to ensure he’s staying inside and not trying to leave in the middle of the night, which he was doing about six months ago.
The mudroom is small, with a rack to the right for your shoes as my father hates shoes in the house. I toe mine off, then take off my suit jacket and hang it on the rack. He finds wearing a jacket necessary when you’re trying to make an impression of power. That isn’t warranted in his house, he’d argue.
Taking a deep breath, I step into the parlor. The light is low, dimly illuminating the room that looks like an antique showroom in of a museum. We never played in here as children, and still to this day, I don’t know what half of these things are and why they were so important to him. And now I’ll never know.
Soft humming sounds in the kitchen, so I go that way. I was careful and purposeful in choosing when to do this. The more my brother sticks up for the incompetent nurse, Bianca, the more I think he has something going on with her. That’s fine. Whether it be good or bad, it’s his issue, not mine. But because of it, I knew if I came here while she was on shift, she’d tell my brother no matter what I said or threatened her with. So when I’d checked the scheduling system we use for the nurses and saw Bianca had a vacation coming up, I knew it was my best shot.
“Gladys,” I say softly.
The plump woman yelps, her hands flying in the air. She whirls, pressing a hand to her chest and catching her breath.
“Mr. Bramante. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
