Page 123 of Luca
His eyes flickered to the unmoving body at my feet and he barely raised a brow.
Sasha and Luciano were at my side, Cassio already playing the diplomat.
“Marchetti, we didn’t expect you,” my brother greeted him.
“Why not? You are in my territory.”
God, if I could get away with beating in his skull, I’d be happy to do it. Looking at him was a reminder of my fuckery,
“You’ve been busy, DiMauro.” It was the only thing that kept me going. “Too busy to come and visit me with your wife and daughter.”
My knuckles burned and our gazes locked. He knew exactly what was going on all along.
He knew I didn’t have them.
ChapterForty-Eight
MARGARET
The beach was beautiful, the water crystal blue and inviting. It was Penelope’s most favorite time, splashing in the water and building forts. The breeze swept through, the distant laugh traveling our way.
Penelope and I sat on the towel, both of us in matching bathing suits.
“I so pretty,” she babbled. Her long, curly hair, dark as night, bounced with her every movement. She watched me with eyes as blue as the sea next to us, sparkling happily as she watched the world. She was a happy and very social kid, despite our reclusive life.
I couldn’t help a proud smile. “You are very pretty,” I agreed. “The most beautiful princess in the world.”
Her eyes traveled over the empty beach. There were a few locals scattered around, taking advantage of the warm September sun.
“No friends.” She folded her hands over her chest, slightly disappointed.
“I’ll be your friend,” I told her. “Most kids went back to school. It’s just you and me, princess. What do you say? Want to build a castle?”
She nodded her head eagerly and I dug out sunscreen from my bag, then applied it to her skin. She giggled as I tickled her while rubbing it into her skin. Then she did the same to my back. Although by the time she was done, I had more sunscreen than skin on me.
Then ignoring the world and all the problems, we focused on building a fairytale castle. We worked hard on it as the sound of the waves washed into the shoreline with a soft, soothing rhythm. The only thing that interrupted it were the seagulls, and even they sang to the tune of the sea.
Sun warmed our skin. The scent of salt filled our lungs. Contentment warmed our hearts.
Two short blasts interrupted our focus. Both of us lifted our heads to find a yacht passing a little fishing boat on their right. My brows furrowed. It was unusual to see such a big boat close to the shoreline.
Placing my hand over my eyes to use it as a makeshift visor, I watched the gigantic 30-meter yacht slowly drift over the water, a lone figure on the top deck. It was a split deck and by the looks of it, topped with all the amenities.
Awareness rolled down my back. The man watched us through binoculars, but he was too far to distinguish his features. But it was unmistakable; he was watching us.
The breeze swept through, foreboding and fear riding on it.
The feeling grew by the second, anguish filling my heart. My eyes darted to the name of the boat.Vendetta.
I didn’t need Google translate to understand what it meant. Vengeance.
“It’s a coincidence,” I rasped under my breath, while my heart drummed so hard, I was certain it cracked my ribs. “Nothing else. Just a stupid coincidence. It’s a common name for a boat, and Italy is just across the sea.”
“Mamma.” Penelope’s voice pulled my attention back to our task at hand. She watched me with furrowed brows.
“Let’s keep building,” I said with a forced smile. And all the while, dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.
A dark shadow came over our work of art. Both my daughter and I lifted our faces and my heart came to standstill.
