Page 81 of Capo

I have considered myself heartless, but the ache in my chest builds, choking me. Her unbeating heart has kicked mine alive. Too late. Too late for her. I should have treated her better. I should have fucking been there for her. She shouldn’t have had to suffer alone. I twine my fingers with hers. She’s still soft and warm to the touch and it nauseates me to know that soon she won’t be. I’ve seen so much death, caused so much death, and never has it bothered me. Not until now. She was only sixty. She could have had so many more years.

Years of what? As your slave? Your punching bag?

The voice in my head isn’t my own. And it isn’t Elena’s. It’s Chloe speaking from across the globe. I hear her. I know she’s right. It’s too late to make it up to Elena, but it isn’t too late to make it up to Chloe. It’s become so fucking hard to breathe, my insides ache, my every muscle in pain, as if I have the flu.

I stand and look over my former mistress, my partner, and the closest thing I’ve had to a friend. I correct the sheet, put her arms to her sides, stroke her cheek, then I bend forward and plant a kiss on her mouth.

“Goodbye,” I whisper. “Go with the angels. I’ll pray for you.”

My steps are heavy as I leave the room and let the door fall closed behind me. Outside stands Rose, Dust, and three of the staff.

“Take care of her,” I say to Rose.

“Always, sir. We all loved Matron.”

I hold her gaze until I’m convinced she truly means it, then I nod and turn to Dustin. “It’s time to go.”

It’s as if invisible strings want to hold me in place, but I push forward, out of the building, to our car that stands on the sidewalk where we came to a screeching stop when we rushed here.

Neither of us enter, Dustin stands by the driver’s door, I have my hand on the door handle to the backdoor. A drop of rain hits my hand, then the sky opens, still neither of us move.

“Where to, Boss?”

“Call my pilot. Tell him to fill the tank and be ready. Now. Take me to the airfield.”

Dustin looks as if he’s going to object, but then he nods and hops in the car.

I’m numb when we pull out into the busy traffic. The rain pours down. Dustin is on the phone. I can’t even think one thought to its end. I stare out at the buildings, at the people rushing on the sidewalk, living their lives. Do they know how sudden it can be pulled from them? We’re all just a hair’s breadth from death at any given time.

Raw sorrow tears holes in my chest as I board the little private jet. Dustin remains by the car, standing under a black umbrella, looking at me curiously. I turn my back to him, to everything, and head for the cockpit.

“Take me to Sicilia.”

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