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He draws a long breath before placing his palms on the desk, then swinging his head back and forth to look at everybody. “Craig, take your partner out of here. We’re going to have a vote.”
23
EMILIA
They’re going to vote?
That’s how they’re going to decide my fate? By voting on it while I sit here and avoid anything resembling eye contact with someone who I never got along with but still would never have expected this from?
Was I that naïve?
Or was Craig that good at covering his tracks?
What might be the worst part is the sense of him trying to bring me around to his side of things. “It’s not as bad as you think,” he tells me as he and another two soldiers stand guard in front of the closed door separating us from Rocco’s study.
The walls must be soundproofed since I can’t hear a thing coming from there, but then again, I imagine Rocco wouldn’t want his wife or daughter to hear how vicious he is.
This room is smaller, cheerful, even pretty. Fresh flowers fill crystal vases and China bowls, and the aroma of roses and orchids fills the air. Maybe this is where Mrs. Santoro spends time. Maybe it helps her feel close to her husband to read here, listen to music, or pretend she doesn’t know exactly what her husband does on the other side of the door.
I’m a hypocrite for thinking that way. I just declared my love for Luca minutes ago. I can’t exactly look down on the woman.
“You can drop the high and mighty act,” Craig continues. He’s still wearing his long, black coat, his typical slacks, and a button-down shirt beneath it. His badge is partly visible, hanging from a lanyard around his neck. He looks like he could’ve come in directly from the station.
I had no idea. How could I have missed it?
“You don’t have to speak to me,” I tell him after offering an icy stare. “I don’t need to hear it.”
His derisive snort is almost comforting after hearing it so many times. “Face it. Everybody makes their choices. I chose to collect more money than a detective normally brings home, all so my wife and kids can be comfortable and secure.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
He lifts his chin, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Says the girl who offered to resign her job for the man she loves.”
There’s a shrewd gleam in his eye when I meet his gaze, and it makes me sick. He thinks he knows me. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“I’m not interested in explaining myself to you, now or ever.” I stare at my clasped hands, bouncing my knee up and down. How strange it is to be sitting in a beautiful room such as this, wondering if it’s the last beautiful thing I’ll ever see before my eyes close forever.
I get up and approach a bowl of pristine, perfect white roses. They’re lush and fragrant, and I lower my head to take a deep breath and inhale their sweetness. Roses always were my favorite.
Am I thinking of myself in the past tense?
Luca won’t let them hurt me. He will not let them kill me. It’s the last shred of hope I possess, and I cling to it with all my might.
“Tell me the truth.” I look over my shoulder at Craig, who has the nerve to smirk. “Did you mean it when you said you loved him? You can tell me.”
“Because you’re so trustworthy?” I ask as a flicker of annoyance rushes through my blood. “Because we’re supposed to be partners, and we need to be able to believe in each other? Since when does that matter?”
“Are you avoiding my question?” His smirk widens into a grin I would love nothing more than to slap off his face.
“Like I said, I’m not interested in speaking to you.”
He tilts his head. “Even if I already know how to fix the story so you come out looking good?” He never did know when to stop. Why should now be any different?
“Really?” To say I’m skeptical would be an understatement.
“Sure. I discovered you out there, and you tried to help me fight those Vitali guys off, and you were injured. I managed to stop the bleeding long enough to get you some help. The family can take care of the specifics,” he assures me, which makes me wonder how long he’s been working with them. He seems very sure of himself and their influence. “Then you decide to resign after your ordeal. Really, it’s cut and dry. Piece of cake.”
