Page 70 of Vicious Redemption

I can’t bring myself to check.

I’ve ruined things properly now. And after what happened the last time I snuck out, I don’t think I can do it again. Even if I have a way out. This time, I’m going to accept my punishment—and hope that behaving helps bring Leo back to me.

But somehow, I doubt it.

The horrible sinking feeling in my gut tells me that my relationship with Leo might never be the same. Some lies, you can never come back from. And even if my intentions were harmless, I don’t know that Leo can see it that way.

I’ve once again tied myself to the family that continues to betray him. And this time, it’s his father’s death he holds them responsible for. Devastation weighs me down. Just last night, I was helping lift the sadness from Leo’s shoulders. Today, I’ve made myself into the very reminder of that grief.

Forcing my eyes away from the balcony doors, I turn my attention back to the delicate glass-encased flower inside its box. I ease it slowly out of its wrapping and am once again struck by the emotional depth of the artistic metalwork.

The curving stem bears a weight that so perfectly exemplifies grief. The petals, which hold such a delicate, life-like shape, have just started to droop. But what’s most devastating about the picture is the way the beautiful rose peers down at the loose petal that’s already fallen. A single shell lying on the wooden base.

The symbol of loss, I can feel the flower’s grief just looking at it.

And though the rose is a metallic shade of brushed bronze, it seems as real as any flower I’ve seen. What I wouldn’t give to walk through the garden this morning, to spend some time enjoying the fresh air and freedom.

With a heavy sigh, I rest my hand on my belly, thinking of the child growing inside me. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” I say softly, grateful for her company if I’m going to be locked away.

Picking up the flower’s case, I carry it to the dresser and set it in the center. It suits the space perfectly. But that does nothing to satisfy the questions that run through my mind incessantly, and rather than appreciate the sculpture’s beauty, my eyes drop to my stomach once more.

Will Leo still be mad at me by the time she’s born? Have I ruined our chances for happiness completely? All for the sake of a stupid phone.

I wish I knew a way to prove to Leo that he can trust me. It would be a considerable help if I could prove my father didn’t order his to be killed. But how am I supposed to do that?

Not from the confines of our bedroom.

33

LEO

“So it was murder?” I demand, my fists clenching and unclenching as I fight to keep my temper under control.

“Not necessarily,” Dr. Ellis states, his voice carrying steadily across the phone. “But the excessive amount of potassium chloride in his system would poison a body. This could occur naturally, if the body is unable to process it. However, your father’s charts would indicate he was in good shape and showing no signs of toxicity in the days before his heart attack.”

“And there were no signs of assault? No injuries?” I hear what the doctor is saying, and still, I don’t believe it. This was murder. I can feel it deep in my gut.

“None. He looked perfectly well, aside from unusually high potassium levels. I’m sorry. I know it’s not the answer you would like to hear,” Dr. Ellis says gravely, “but as of now, I can give you no definitive conclusion, Signor Moretti, as to why his levels were so high. I assure you, I will be reviewing his case more thoroughly to better understand where treatment can be changed in the future.”

That won’t bring my father back to life, but I bite back the comment. Ending the conversation with a gruff thanks, I hang up and slump in my office chair. The doctor might not think it’s conclusive evidence, but the excessive amount of potassium chloride found in my father’s system is enough to convince me of foul play.

It just means my enemies were sneakier than I gave them credit for. Don Guerra’s use of force during the charity ball had me convinced he was a hammer kind of strategist—not a chisel. Now, I’m wondering if I’ve underestimated him. Again.

The Guerras just might be the death of me if I’m not careful.

It seems no matter what angle I take, they prove untrustworthy.

Even Tia.

My jaw clenches until my teeth ache. I’m still not over what happened this morning. I’m done trying to protect her feelings. How is it that every time I do, I’m the one who loses something?

No more.

Picking up my phone, I dial Johnny.

“Boss.” He picks up on the third ring, his voice charged. He’s ready to go.

“Gather the Moretti men. I’m calling a meeting of the dons. I want the head of every family in the ballroom at the estate in the next two hours. This time, Don Guerra better fucking be there. I don’t care what it takes. Burn his fucking house to the ground if that’s what needs to happen. He will see me named don. And they will all pay homage to me as the capo dei capi.”

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