Page 103 of Thorns of Blood
My heart managed three beats before my soul shattered into irreparable pieces.
“Julia Agosti.”
No. I kept shaking my head, although he couldn’t see me.No, no, no.
There was no way I heard that right. It had to be a mistake. Or maybe the last name was just a coincidence? It had to be a fairly common last name. But then his next words made it crystal clear: “Giovanni Agosti’s mother. Your husband’s mother, Liana.”
I froze, an agonized noise leaving my lips, while every single muscle in my body locked in place. But it was the whirlwind in my chest and my skull that made me feel so much. Too much.It made it hard to breathe.
But years of masking my emotions kicked in.
“Good job, José,” I said, my voice strangely calm. “I have to go.”
Before he could say anything else, I hung up, then got to my feet. My throat tightened and betrayal burned the backs of my eyes. I left the room, heading toward the marble staircase that led downstairs.
I entered the dining room, my eyes scanning every inch of it, but found nothing amiss. The grand table we’d eaten family dinner at earlier in the week returned to its pristine condition,a vase of fresh flowers sat on the sleek coffee table. Shaken, I moved on to the living room, the sheet I still had wrapped around me skirting the floor, but that one didn’t tell me anything either.
The next room was Giovanni’s office and compared to the rest of the house, you could tell he spent most of his days here. I rushed to his desk, going through his drawers. Blank notepad. Neatly stacked pens. An extra charger.
I glanced around the room, noting nothing but bookshelves full of books about business and economy, a painting, and picture frames?—
Sweat trickled down my back as I crossed the room, my legs barely carrying me. I picked up the gilded frame nearest his desk, staring at the photo, and was struck by the people in it.
I stared at it, images flashing through my mind. Dark forest. Baby in a trash bag. My screams.
My fingers gripping the metal started to shake and my mouth filled with saliva.
It was a photo of the Agosti family, taken a few years prior maybe. Giovanni and his siblings, Mateo and his family, andher. The Mistress.
My mind screamedkill, kill, kill. Kill them all.
“What are you doing here?”
I startled, a yelp tumbling from my lips as I dropped the frame onto the ground, the sound of glass shattering mirroring the crack in my heart.
Cristiano stared at me, indecision warring in his green eyes, a hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers. And there was that familiar distrust. I quickly pulled myself together, clutching the sheet between my fingers.
“I live here,” I said, my tone mercifully even. “Or did you forget I’m married to your brother?”
“With all due respect, he had to have told you his office is off-limits.” The disregard in his tone threw me off, warning me to keep my guard up. “Unless you’re in here spying on him.”
He stared me down, as if trying to pluck every single thought out of my brain, but he was no match for me. I had had a lifetime to perfect hiding them. I sneered, studying him, taking note of the fact he had a knife holstered at his waist. And by the way the back of his jacket bulged, there was probably a gun tucked in there too.
“The only thing I know is off-limits is you seeing me indecent,” I told him as I made my way out of the room, Cristiano at my heels like a bloodhound. “And when you say respect, you don’t actually have it. Not for me. So shut the fuck up.”
“Where’s Giovanni?” His voice was close behind me—too close—as I made my way out of the room and into the foyer.
“Out.”
“Where?” he gritted.
I whirled on my heel, glaring at him. “Do I look like his keeper? I said he’s out, so he’s out. Now see yourself out too.”
He grabbed me by the arm, yanking me forward, and I crashed into his chest. The sheet fluttered to the ground, exposing my bare skin.
“Don’t push me, Liana.”
I reacted, letting my instincts guide me. I grabbed his knife from the holster and tackled him to the floor, slamming it into his shoulder, and a hiss erupted through the air. He tried to maneuver himself over me, but my hand gripped the knife, twisting it.
