Page 22 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
After several hours of faking happiness and suffering the remnants of yesterday’s hangover and today’s horror show, I’m exhausted.
“Are we leaving soon?” Bambi whines, and I could hug her for asking the question I’d be scolded for asking.
“Hush, Bambi. It won’t be much longer now,” Allegra whispers before stiffening and snapping her mouth shut.
I look up to see the cause of her uncharacteristic silence. Savero is heading toward us. My skin breaks out in a cool sweat. On one side of him is what I assume to be a capo. He hasn’t left Savero’s side since I saw him at the church. On the other is Cristiano.
I train my focus on Savero, afraid of what I might see if my gaze glides too far to the left. I can’t be certain I won’t start hyperventilating if I look into those eyes again.
Savero stops in front of me, not sparing the rest of my family a glance.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” I say.
His gaze travels down my black dress and settles on the nude shoes before climbing slowly back up to my face. I search for any clue he might like what he sees, but I can’t seem to focus on anything other than the side of his jacket where the blade is hidden.
For some inexplicable reason, my eyes ache to look at Cristiano, but I don’t allow it. That could invite a whole other world of fear.
“We’re about to leave, but I wanted to thank you for being here,” Savero says, and I bite back another urge to laugh hysterically. I’m still in shock—that’s the only explanation. “I will see you Tuesday.”
I blink. “Tuesday?”
“Yes. Your father invited me to dinner.” His face is impassive.
I force another smile. “Wonderful. It will be a pleasure to welcome you to our home.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. With one of his hands, he reaches up and grips my chin firmly, making me suck in a breath. These were the same fingers he plunged into a man’sthroat only a few hours ago. I want to be sick. He pushes my face slowly from side to side as if inspecting a diamond for flaws.
For a few seconds I hold my inhale, not daring to move my eyes away from his. When he releases me, I blink across to where Cristiano is standing.
Wasstanding.
He’s gone.
A hot breath floods out of my lungs. There’s immense relief, but I still want to crawl into a hole in the floor.
Savero doesn’t notice. Instead he takes my hand and pushes a roll of green notes into it. “Your dress will be couture, the flowers will be white, and the food will be Italian.”
I frown, not quite understanding.
Allegra, who is clearly none-the-wiser about the earlier scene Papa and I were treated to, puts a hand on my arm and begins to thank Savero for his generous contribution to the wedding costs, but then an ear-splitting bang knocks us—and everyone around us—to the ground.
That sound ... It should take me straight back to the car I was sitting in when Mama was shot. It should flood me with grief, send my heart up my throat, and set my pulse throbbing through my temples. Yet I feel strangely calm.
Gradually, I become aware of my cheek grazing the hotel carpet and a few screams from the outer edges of the room. Black suits move around in my peripheral vision, and all the blonde women previously sitting on club chairs are on the floor. They know the drill.
Voices shout above me, and I lift my head to see Savero sauntering toward the terrace doors. They’re ajar, and a light illuminates the manicured lawns. The other family members don’t seem too alarmed, so I carefully pull myself up and crane my neck to look outside.
A male figure stands out there, silhouetted by moonlight. A curl of smoke snakes upward from a cigarette in his left hand.
I press my palms into the carpet and shift sideways for a closer look. When the edges of the silhouette crystalize, my heart skitters to a halt.
Cristiano is standing alone in the center of the lawn, a gun resting against his thigh. My gaze travels down his legs to the grass, where a now deflated giant heart covers the ground.
Tess crawls toward me on her hands and knees. “Thank God he shot that thing down. Ten more minutes, and it would have been me.”
Trilby
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The sparkle has gone.
