Page 45 of The Last Vendetta

Since Father died, she’d been holed up in her room. Francis claimed to have overheard her speaking on the phone, but I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since the rushed excuse of a funeral she’d ordered to hold for Father.

If she was grieving, fine. I wouldn’t have believed she cared that he was gone. She’d never shown him an ounce of love but made sure to consistently harass and nag him when he was alive.

If she was still sick from whatever drug she’d been poisoned with, she didn’t make any requests for medical assistance.

Seeing her was a shock. I saw no hint of an emotional or physical weakness. She looked as normal as ever, face taut and unexpressive, even bored.

But why was she here?

This was where I always took my coffee. She hated it, claiming the plants looked tacky and the tinkling sound of the ornamental waterfall from the sculpted water pool in the corner of the sunny room was annoying.

She was deliberately seated in my place. Coupled with her sudden reappearance, she seemed to be up to something.

“Morning,” I said cautiously, coming out to sit next to her.

I wasn’t stupid. She had to have chosen this spot to force me to speak with her. I seldom had to deal with her in the mornings. Like my father had, she preferred to keep her personal time a priority over being a present mother.

She lifted her gaze to me, studying me. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help the worry that she was looking through me. As though she could know what I’d done last night. She wouldn’t have approved of Uncle Dario’s suggestion that I spy for intel about Father’s death. And she definitely wouldn’t like that Renzo had fucked me.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked for a greeting.

Shit. I wasn’t any good at hiding it. I wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but just hearing her suspicious tone set me further on edge.

“Nothing.” I set my coffee down on the table too quickly. I didn’t need to add caffeine to my already frazzled status. Without another word, I headed for the exit to the gardens outside.

She wasn’t going to let me off the hook. Waiting for me in the place I always sat and drank my coffee was only her first plan. As she hurried after me, the glass door swung back, almost smacking her in the face. It still didn’t stop her.

“Giulia.”

I shook my head, not in the mood for any of her games. I’d never trusted her, and I wouldn’t start now.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

I narrowed my eyes at her as she rounded me. Standing on the path, she blocked me from walking off. “About what? Father?”

She kept her lips pressed in a tight line.

“You’ve holed yourself up in your room for over a week.” I crossed my arms, letting my natural loathing for her conceal how unsettled I’d felt since Renzo took my virginity.

How absurd. I could trust him, the enemy, but my mother provoked me to be defensive.

“I’ve had to handle all the condolences. I’ve had to ward off all the questions about why we didn’t even really hold a funeral for him.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t matter.”

I slitted my eyes further. “Why? Why did you choose such a pathetic funeral? Are you trying to ignore the fact that he died?”

“Ignore? No one can ignore that he’s dead.”

I shook my head, letting all my pent-up confusion and anger come to the surface. “Then why are you ignoring it? You rushed for a private funeral. You won’t speak to anyone. You hide in your room and—” I groaned, already exhausted from dealing with her at all.

“I was grieving.”

I smirked at her. “Really? That’s the line you’re going with?”

She raised her brows. “I was grieving.”

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