Chapter 68 She knows.
CHAPTER 68
She knows.
SCARLETT – POINT OF VIEW
Roman steps forward and shakes Luca’s hand. His grip is firmer, and he has dark circles under his eyes. Grieve has a way of breaking us down and building something entirely different up. I don’t have to say it, but he knows I am here for him. I know what it feels like to lose a father.
“You have a beautiful home, Luca. I am so happy to be here.” I say, sounding docile and meek, playing the part he asked me to.
Luca narrows his gaze on me, eyes darkening.
My pulse throbs hot and loud. I find myself looking at Roman. I am not Luca’s to punish, but Roman’s.
Roman takes a step closer to me, shoulders squared. Both men hold a tense gaze.
“Where’s the wifey?” Damian, ever perceptive, asks, looking around.
“She’ll arrive in a few hours,” Luca answers, jaws clenched.
“Are we going to stand here all day? I’m jetlagged.” Elena yawns, running her hands over her face.
“You will have to forgive my son’s lack of hospitality,” An older woman walks down the stairs, and my chest caves in immediately.
I know her.
She’s Milana Bombardi, the Queen of La Cosa Nostra.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I met her when I was twelve. She came to the compound alone. I was in awe of her, her grace, her elegance, and her confidence. I knew she was the Queen of La Cosa Nostra, but I never assumed she was the Queen. I assumed she led a faction in one of the states, not here. I definitely didn’t know she was Luca’s mother. A Valentino.
Oh, God.
Nausea bubbles in me, and my head aches painfully.
I’m gonna be sick.
“My mother, Milana Bombardi-Valentino.” Luca introduces, absentmindedly.
Roman speaks calmly, “Lovely to see you again, Mrs Valentino. Thank you for welcoming us into your home.” He reaches for me, “This is Scarlett Brooks, my fiance. You know Elena, Damian, and Caleb. That is Eve, Scarlett’s sister.”
Carefully, I look at Milana.
Our gaze locks, and something flashes in her eyes.
She knows.
“Scarlett Brooks?” She blinks, eyes clouding with an emotion I can’t identify.
I nod, bowing a little, “Yes, ma’am. I am sorry for your loss. I hope you find peace.”
“I doubt that, but I am sure you know a lot about finding peace in grief, don’t you, Ms Brooks?” She smiles warmly at me, and something shatters in me.
I don’t respond, and neither do I meet her eyes again.
I feel all of them looking at me, but I feign oblivion.
I only look up when I hear people enter. Housekeepers in uniformed attire.
“Please escort our lovely guests to the already made quarters,” Milana speaks so softly and tenderly.
Roman links our hands, and we follow the housekeepers. His grip on me is strong and loud. I pretend not to notice. The only reason he’s touching me is because of the contract we signed, that’s all. I don’t need his touch. Still, I hold on to him tightly.
We are led through the mansion to the backyard, where another mansion, albeit smaller, lies waiting.
I exhale as we step in.
One week. One week is all the time we’d be spending here. Just one week. I’ll tough it out.
“I’m Sofia. There are five bedrooms. Four bedrooms downstairs, and the fifth upstairs, alongside the study, a private balcony and a library.” She explains, gesturing upstairs.
I look around the mansion. It’s beautiful and cosy, very homely.
“It smells amazing. We can bunk together, Scar.” Eve walks to me, smiling widely.
My heart squeezes softly. I want her to enjoy her time here. I want her to be very happy.
“Oh, no. Ms Brooks will be with her fiancé. The bedroom upstairs has been made for them, suited perfectly to their taste. They are getting married soon, and we need to keep the bond alive. The bedroom is also soundproof, if you know what I mean.” Sofia winks at me.
I freeze, mouth falling open in shock.
My face flushes with mortification immediately.
My lungs constrict as it dawns on me.
I’m trapped with Roman, trapped for one week.
“Oh … we … I’m sure Roman doesn’t mind … we can …” I stammer, tongue growing heavy.
Sofia smiles warmly at me, “You have no reason to be shy. Love is a beautiful thing.”
The ground needs to swallow me whole now.
“Thank you, Sofia. We’ll find our way upstairs. You can continue the tour downstairs.” Roman nods at her, tone light.
He holds on to me tighter and leads me up the stairs. Every step feels like a premonition, a warning. There’s nowhere to run because he holds me steadily as if he knows I’ll run. So, I let him drag me to the bedroom.
He pushes the door open carefully, and I clench my jaw hard as we step in.
The bedroom is big, and yet, the bed is so small.
Oh God.
My chest aches painfully, stinging.
The bedroom is beautiful. There are artworks on the wall. There are drawers on both sides of the bed, and of course, lamps. There’s also a private balcony, like Sofia said, and windows, but it doesn’t feel like it is enough. Warmth spread through me, and heat builds in me, sending nausea up my throat.
Since we are alone, and any performance will be pointless, I pull away from Roman and sit on the bed, blood roaring in my ears.
I don’t need this right now.
Milena knows me. She knows who I used to be. She knows everything, and no matter how much I try to avoid her, she’ll find me anyway and question me.
She probably thinks I’m a traitor.
She will be very paranoid, seeing as her husband was assassinated.
Oddly enough, I want to know how he died, and if they’ve caught whoever killed him.
I know the chances of the killer being connected to whoever killed my parents are impossible, but I still want to find my parents’ killers. I need to find them. I need to look them in the eyes, and do … what?
I have no power. No ally, no armies, nothing. I’m all alone.
I should have been a son. A son would have vindicated them, but here I am, playing house to a narcissistic billionaire.
“What did Milena mean by that?” Roman cuts through my self-loathing, and I look at him, irritation flaring hot in me.
I ignore him and reach for my phone, only to freeze.
“What’s wrong?” Roman asks.
My eyes centre on the date. Today’s date.
A year ago today, my parents were killed. A year ago, my home was engulfed in flame. A year ago, I ran like the coward I am.
It hits me like rot in the air, sharp and undeniable. My chest feels too tight, so I run.
The bathroom door slams behind me, the sound cracking through my skull as my knees hit the ground. The sore sting of bile burns my throat as I retch, tears blurring the room into smeared white and greys.