Page 150 of A Beautiful Crime

“The state of Carina remains questionable until I see her for myself. Then, and only then will I know if she’s being properly cared for,” he states primly.

I should be offended. He’s done questioned my character. Compared me to the likes of her papa and brother.

I should have his tongue for disrespecting me in my own home.

I raise a cool brow. “And yet she was abused in her own home for years. Neglected by the hands of her brother and father. Suffering not only physical wounds but mentally as well.” I loathe recounting the horrendous acts Carina experienced. If their deaths weren’t already on the horizon I would be ambushing them as we speak.

Giuseppe swallows hard, wincing slightly. “I never condoned what Luca and Savio have done,” he responds despondently. His eyes drift away from mine for the first time since he’s entered this office. They’re downcast, but one can’t miss they are full of regret and sorrow.

“Despite what you want to believe I am not the enemy.” His eyes sharpen on mine. “I never have been. Not when I have been in love with Carina for ten years.”

His mouth slacks open in shock before he quickly closes it. With disbelief he questions, “Ten years? You have been harboring feelings for Carina for ten years?” I nod my head in response. He then sputters in an outrage like a protective father. “She was only sixteen when you decided she was for you? Do you realize how mad that sounds? Just how immoral are you, Constantine?”

I flash him a wolfish grin. “Immoral enough to do whatever it means necessary to keep her by my side.”

“You’re psychotic.” I’ve ruffled the old man’s feathers. Cracking the pristine courteous butler facade. Because it is a facade. To a point.

“Perhaps,” I agree easily, but then lower my tone to sound threatening, “but I am a man who will stop at nothing to keep her. No one can take her from me. Not even you.”

“Me?” He asks incredulously. “You believe I have the power to take her from you?”

I laugh, he remains unamused. “No. No, I don’t believe you have the power. I don’t believe anyone has the power except for Carina herself. And even then I would hunt her down to the ends of the earth and carry her back kicking and screaming.”

“Then why are you telling me this? Why assure me of her happiness if it doesn’t matter?”

“I’m assuring you of my love and devotion to her,” I correct him.

“More like obsession,” he corrects me with revulsion.

“Either way,” I begin as I clasp my hands over the desk, a desk I’ve done fucked my soon to be wife over a handful of times, and level him with a stare as I deliver the bomb of truth, “her father should know that my feelings for his daughter are true. And despite how immoral I am, I will never allow another living soul to speak ill of her or touch her again and live.”

The silence is deafening.

Before my very own eyes I watch as Giuseppe’s world comes crashing down on him. The unnatural stiffness in his posture. The perspiration dotting his hairline. An off putting distant stare that says everything his mouth can’t.

While he sits in the aftermath of the explosion I continue. “You see I have always thought of Carina as an astonishing copy of her late mother.” The mention of Viola gains a reaction. And the pain of saying her name overcomes him greatly. “But her eyes didn’t quite match. Viola was gifted brown eyes the color of honey. And Savio, well Savio has the same shade as his precious son Luca. And the ambitious and also foolish late son Elio had his mother’s. But Carina,” I pause for effect and it lands its mark. Giuseppe didn’t fear me before, he fears me now. “Carina doesn’t have her father’s eyes nor her mother’s. She has yours.”

His eyes shimmer in the same way Carina’s do when they are filled with tears. Emerald pools with the tiniest flecks of gold. He turns his head, offering me his side profile. His jaw flexes as he chokes on emotions.

He clears his throat but it sounds rough as he resignedly asks, “How did you come to know of this?”

I could lie. Tell him I had him investigated by the relentless and coolly efficient Rico. I could say I obtained a hair follicle from one of his combs thanks to my undercover soldier in Gino. I could rattle his cages more. Shackle his mind.

Surprisingly I choose not to.

Instead I give him the truth. “I know Viola didn’t commit suicide.” The mention of her false suicide has his focus back on me. And along with the end of his charade as the butler there’s a fire of anger in the depth of his eyes. “She was killed. By her youngest son. My question is why didn’t he kill you? Surely, he killed her because he knew of the affair. Betrayal in The Fiore Famiglia means death. And yet you escaped it.”

His eyes harden as he spits with venom, “You think I escaped death? My love, my life, my everything,” he chokes on the word, a tear slipping, “died and I couldn’t save her!” Forgoing his handkerchief he roughly wipes the tears staining his cheeks. “I was so close. Viola was determined to leave Savio and save her daughter from him. She knew if Carina stayed under his wing and New York City there would be no hope in saving her soul. But as determined as Viola was, her fear and paranoia won. It paralyzed her.”

It doesn’t come as a surprise to me. Viola felt trapped within her own home. A prisoner to her ruthless husband. We all knew of the man he was when he stepped foot in New York City. Viola finally saw who her husband really was. Gone was the man who showered her with gifts and affection. New York City showed his true face. A man of cruelty. One of greed. A man who valued fear more than love. Including his own wife and children.

Viola saw his true face too late. Giuseppe had known it all along.

“How did the affair come to be?”

A wistful smile plays on his lips as he reminisces. “I had always cared for Viola. Thought she was too beautiful to be with Savio. In heart and soul and appearance. Viola was, to put it quite simply, breathtaking.” Of that I have no doubt. Carina after all is her copy. “When Savio decided to make the move here to try and reclaim the throne, thoughts of his wife became an afterthought. She spent her days being a socialite and her nights lonely. Luca had already begun to want to follow in his papa’s footsteps. Savio was a god to him. And very much still is. Viola saw that. Saw she was losing her son. And her lonely nights grew tiresome. She asked me to accompany her one night. To take pity on her and join her for a late night drink. Little did she know I had been wishing for that night for years.”

Ah, the poor handsome butler longing after the beautiful unattainable wife.

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