Page 82 of Twisted Roses

It’s what I’ve wanted.

But I also know my shortcomings and I don’t want to fuck it up. I’m not a guy in tune with his emotions. It’ll take work to make sure I’m fulfilling her needs in that area.

“West Side Story with Natalie Wood,” Delphine says, flipping through the movie selection with the remote, oblivious to my thoughts. “My Grandpa Huxley brought my Grandma Rose to see this movie as their first date. He said he was so nervous his voice was shaking.”

“Romantic.”

She slaps a hand to my stomach. “I’m aware that’s sarcasm, but itisromantic! They got married a couple months later.”

“When did he give her the rose necklace?”

“The night he told her he loved her,” she sighs dreamily. Her hand drifts up to her rose pendant and she absently fusses with it, like she does so often out of habit.

I find myself staring fixedly at her throat.

The silver rose pendant with its delicate chain that she’s worn almost every day from the time she was a girl. The exception being the period late last year when it was stolen from her by the piece of shit who raped her.

“You’ve worn that thing almost every day of your life,” I say, more observantly than anything.

She nods. “I have. Since I was thirteen and Grandma Rose passed away.”

“She gifted it to you on her deathbed?”

“In her will,” she answers. “Once her affairs were all sorted out, my father gave it to me. He told me to never take it off if I wanted her to always be with me. He said it would be like always being watched over.”

“That’s interesting of him to say.”

“It’s my security blanket. And it’s true. I do feel safe with it, like I really am being watched and looked after. I’m never alone.”

It crashes down on me with the suddenness of an avalanche.

One second, I’m lazily lying around with Delphine in my arms and the TV on in the background. The next second, I’m hearing Ernest Adams’ voice in my head.

Ernest’s laugh rings in my ear—rich and dense and fake as fuck. “I forgot. The two of you are in a rough patch right now, isn’t that right? My daughter realized her worth and threw you away, like I said she would. She wants nothing to do with you.”

I rub my jaw and produce a laugh a lot more authentic than his. “You’ve always known a lot about what goes on between us. How is that?”

“My daughter trusts me on a level you will never understand.”

“But Delphine never tells you what goes on between us.”

He pauses. Bluffing.

“And how would you know what she’s told me?”

“Because I know Phi better than anybody,” I say confidently, sitting up in my chair. “She doesn’t want you to know the details. Yet, funnily enough, you always seem to, anyway.”

“I know everything that goes on in this city. Every last detail. What have I told you, Mancino? I am this city. I’m always watching.”

Delphine has always been watched over, alright.

“Salvatore,” Delphine says, pulling me into the present. “Do you want to watch this movie?”

Apparently, she’s asked me twice, but I’ve zoned out. A disturbing new thought has left even a calculated man like me stunned speechless. I barely nod in answer to her, sitting up with my gaze still fixated on her throat.

She frowns. “What is it—why are you—what are you doing!?”

Delphine screams in alarm as I reach over and tear her rose pendant necklace from her throat. The chain is so delicate it snaps without a struggle and no fight. I clench it within my fist and leap off the bed, throwing my street clothes on.

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