Page 17 of The Killer Cupcake
She wouldn't allow doubt to enter again.
CHAPTER 8
LAC TREMBLANT, QUEBEC – 1978
Present.After her shower, Kathy entered the lower cabin, where Carmelo had asked her to join him for dinner. Earlier, he'd sent for a boat to remove Nino. His men escorted Nino back to their villa, insisting on spending the rest of the evening alone with her at sea. Though the open sky and shimmering waters should've felt vast and liberating, the now orchestrated isolation tightened around her.
He wouldn’t answer questions. He kept brooding when he thought she wasn’t aware. Something between them shifted as the sun began its descent.
She'd chosen a summer dress she knew he'd appreciate: the slit daringly high, the neckline enticingly low. The color was a vibrant and happy yellow. She took a flower from the arrangements and put it in her hair. With just the two of them here, there would be none of the dangerous jealousy that often shadowed their interactions. Still, unease lingered from his constant brooding throughout the day.
When Kathy entered, Carmelo stood at the bar, pouring himself another drink—a habit she wished he'd never acquired. Between the Scotch, bourbon, and the ever-present cigars, bitterness had grown inside him, a bitterness she could smellon him. His back was to her. He drained the glass and poured another. Then, abruptly, he slammed the bottle down, gripping the edge with white-knuckled intensity, muttering fiercely under his breath in Italian—words she couldn't understand but whose frustration she felt deeply.
She approached cautiously. Her eyes drifted to the crystal tableware laid out elegantly for their meal. On the pristine white porcelain plate sat a ring she hadn't seen in decades, tarnished but unmistakable. The ring she thought she'd tossed away the day he fought for her love, and she rejected his pleas. The night she'd truly lost him and her faith in their love.
It was the ring he'd slipped onto her finger decades ago after their time in the attic, back when they were young and desperately in love. Despite the diamonds he showered her with now, that simple ring had always been her greatest treasure. Tears welled before she could suppress them. A quiet gasp of appreciation escaped her lips.
Carmelo glanced back sharply. Kathy removed the diamond wedding band he'd given her and replaced it with the tarnished ring. Her voice trembled with awe and disbelief.
"You kept it? You found it? All these years, you never said a thing? Why?”
He didn't answer. His silence was scary. All these years, through the calmer moments and storms alike, he'd never revealed he'd had her ring.
Kathy searched his expression for a meaning. "What's going on, Carmelo? Time for the truth. Why are we still out here on this lake?”
He turned fully, meeting her eyes. His voice was heavy, almost resigned. "I've done something—something you won't like. Something I can't change. It's done, and we have to find a way forward. As husband and wife.”
A chill gripped her heart. How often had she heard him say similar words? Secrets and vengeance had always been part of the Wolf’s world, that ruthless side of him. Again and again, lives had been crushed beneath the weight of his magnetism, manipulation, cruelty, and relentless crusade to reclaim what he'd lost—a life with her, and with their daughter. To the Wolf, everyone was guilty, including Kathy. But she still saw Carmelo beneath the hardened facade—the tender, passionate young man yearning simply to live freely.
Kathy steeled herself, refusing to be swayed by memories of their youthful love. If he had lied, she knew how to deal with it. She’d had practice. If he had done something criminal, it would not have fazed her. She was, after all, Henry and Brenda Freeman’s daughter. What could be the crime this time to warrant this? She touched the ring for strength, swallowing back her fears.
"What have you done?" she said quietly. “Let’s deal with it.”
“You’ll be angry,” he replied.
“I’ll get over it,” she mumbled and crossed her arms
His brow arched. “Not this time. This time, you have the right to be angry.”
“I’ve had the right many times before, Melo. You just refused to give me that courtesy,” she sighed. “But I don’t want to go back in the past. I’m done with the past. Okay? It happened. We happened. We hurt each other, but we got over it. We’re over it now. This is a fresh start.”
“No, it’s not. The moment I disappoint you, you overreact, and this thing between us becomes war—you never forgive… just judge me!” he huffed, angry tension settling in his posture.
“Stop stalling! Just tell me,” she insisted.
“I can deal with your anger. I just… I need you to try to understand my reasons,” he said. “Because… I?—”
“Tell me! What did you do?” she demanded.
"I had you murdered. You’re dead. We’re both dead.”
New Orleans,1950
Kathy woke up to a body pressed against hers. The room was hot and the air dewy. The scent of sex, sweat, and musk was heavy, just like his body. She could feel the rhythmic beat of his heart in his chest against her back. The wiry, bristling pubic hairs along his pelvis arrow up in a silky wave to his navel against her buttcheeks. The warmth and moist breath from his nostrils blew over her shoulder. He was sleeping, halfway inside of her. They’d exhausted themselves so much during sex that they both passed out in exhaustion.
She moved.
“Mmm, more,” he groaned and stirred. She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping he’d go back to sleep. Her vagina ached, as did her legs, her pelvis, and even her throat from all the times he had driven her to sexual madness, forcing her to cry out his name—over and over again.
