Page 88 of The Last Vendetta

She would never come here again. She wouldn’t return to this house ever again. No matter where we decided to live, it would be together, in a home of our choosing.

Fuck Giovanni and Isabella. It was their mistakes and bad choices from long ago that tried to keep us apart. And it was because of their past that people were being killed now.

Giulia would not be the next victim.

As I reached the balcony and waited to pull myself up at the very edge, along the exterior wall of the house, I stayed tucked out of sight. A crevice in the drain system secured to the wall provided me a place to rest my foot, and I stalled there as Isabella continued to speak.

To shout and snarl. Every syllable of her ranting was laced with scorn, dripping with anger. I wasn’t trespassing and breaking in on a safe, calm situation here, but I couldn’t wait too long. If that woman was capable of killing my brother and her own husband, I had to get Giulia to safety now, out of Isabella’s reach.

I’d heard plenty on my climb up here. Curtains flapped and flew back and forth in the breeze, but they served as a block. Vague shapes were visible through the gauzy material. Giulia and Isabella were forms, facing each other off, but they weren’t engaged in any sort of combat.

The angle of one of their arms scared me. Like she was holding up a gun and aiming it at the other. Isabella’s haughty tone and demanding words implied that she was the one threatening her daughter, and I had to be careful not to startle her and risk her pulling the trigger before I could shove Giulia to safety.

“I don’t understand,” Giulia said.

I commended her bravery, speaking loud and clear, but I caught the note of fear in her voice.

“You slept with Giovanni so long ago. It makes no sense to want to kill Cecilia now.”

Isabella chuckled dryly. “Want to kill her? I did. After that fucking Bernardi fool drank her drink by accident, I did see it through and kill her.” She grunted. “I wasn’t going to. After everyone was all up in arms about Luka dying, I thought I’d let her suffer with her status. Marcus could deal with her. She could be a Romano and raise the heir of the Acardi name. But then he just couldn’t fucking let it go. Your father worried about her. He wanted to know she was all right. Because he loved her. Not me. He loved her. He chose her over me.”

“Maybe it was just an affair that would’ve petered out,” Giulia argued gently.

As I readied to climb onto the balcony and lift myself over the ledge, I hesitated. Giulia backed up to the balcony. The nearer the women came, I saw how she was backing up. Her scent grew stronger the closer she got to me. Her hands were raised in a truce-like manner, and she kept her movements steady and slow.

She’s stalling. Trying to get out to the balcony and escape. While I admired her scrappy determination to survive all the odds, I hated the idea of her jumping at the risk of injury or taking her own life. I doubted that was the case, but as she obviously exited toward the balcony I wanted to hide on, I had to bide my time.

“No. It fucking would not, you stupid whore. The second Cecilia screamed that Luka was dead, Rocco rushed up to her at her table to protect her, thinking she could be hurt. Then at Luka’s funeral, Nickolas challenged Rocco with the accusation that he seemed too interested in his sister. All night long, he’d asked about Cecilia and tried to learn where she’d run off to. Rocco loved her, and I refused to let another woman interfere with my man again.”

“Like Arianna did with Giovanni?” Giulia guessed.

“Yes!”

“But he was arranged to marry her. That’s not the same as choosing her.”

“No.” Isabella huffed. “He still didn’t choose me. I offered to be his mistress. I killed her off and hinted that I could be her replacement. And he didn’t want me. Only for a quick fuck. An easy lay, like you’ve been doing with Renzo.”

Giulia’s foot reached back. She was right there, stepping through the billowing curtains. Her body remained inside, but she was nearly to the balcony. The second she was within my reach, I’d jump and knock her to the side. The element of surprise would be in my favor, and I had to pray that Dean was having luck reaching the room from inside the house. He was supposed to be breaking in to reach the door from the hallway, and I refused to give any thought or worry about why he hadn’t shown up yet.

“No. Renzo and I?—”

Isabella cackled. Her immediate laughter was sharp and hysterical. “Do not tell me that you love each other. Do not dare.”

“I do. I do love him,” Giulia admitted.

It was the first time she’d said it, and it wasn’t even for my ears to hear, but she’d put it out there. I felt her affection when we made love. I saw the commitment in her eyes and I heard every ounce of desire and desperation for me when she spoke or cried out in ecstasy.

And I loved her too. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her yet with all this going on. We’d clashed so quickly and our connection built so swiftly, we hadn’t found a moment to have this sort of a conversation. As soon as I killed her mother and secured her elsewhere, we would. I would not let another day go by without her understanding that she and I were breaking the curse of our parents’ issues.

“Love?” Isabella scoffed. “You’re insane if you think he could care for you at all.”

“He does.” Giulia’s voice rose with a little more confidence as she brought her other foot back toward the balcony, measuring her steps and likely trying to avoid looking like she was running or retreating too hastily.

“All the Bernardi men care about is themselves, fucking who they want and doing as they please. And that’s why, Giulia. That’s why this had to all happen now. I couldn’t let that little whore carry my husband’s baby. No other woman would ever bear Rocco a son—even after his death.”

“Fine. If that’s what you’ve decided was necessary, fine.” Giulia cleared her throat. “But it has nothing to do with me.”

“The hell it doesn’t. If you keep fucking Renzo, you’ll get knocked up with a Bernardi baby. If you’re not already.”

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