Page 50 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
I laugh more, and I realize that I can’t remember the last time I really laughed. Probably before Gabi came and got me. And then I remember why I shouldn’t laugh, because my father is dead. The thought alone instantly steals any and all joy.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Tommy asks.
“Yeah. Fine.” My voice is raspy, and I swallow hard.
Taking the bottle, he pours it over my shoulder. From the smell, I can tell it’s Ethanol. I’m so glad I can’t feel it because I know it would sting like a bitch.
When he’s done, he picks up the needle. I stare into the crackling flames in the fireplace while he stitches me up for a second time. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he works, and it’s kind of cute. When he’s done both the front and back, he applies dressings.
“Okay, just…” He stabs me in the arm.
“Ow! Shit, Tommy.” I glare down at the syringe now sticking out of my upper arm. He offers me a gawky yet unapologetic smile.
With a cheeky shrug, he depresses the plunger. “Antibiotics.”
“You couldn’t warn me?”
“I didn’t think you’d feel it to be honest.”
“How? It’s huge.” I rub at my arm. “Pretty sure you hit bone.”
“Okay. Done.” With a roll of his eyes, he tosses the stuff onto the coffee table and stands without cleaning up. “You hungry?”
I glance up at him, and he offers me his hand. “Sure.”
He tugs me off the sofa andI follow him out of the room to the kitchen. Mid-morning light pours through the huge glass doors. “Grilled cheese okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, distractedly, walking over to the doors.
The gardens stretch out before me, eventually giving way to the woods. A swimming pool sits a few feet away, but the water is covered for the winter.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Tommy comes to stand beside me.
“It is.” Sunlight catches the frost tipped glass making it sparkle like crytsal.
“Nero hates this house because it belonged to the last boss. It’s the seat of the New York mafia.”
“He’s obviously updating it.” I jerk a thumb toward the kitchen behind us.
He snorts. “No, Una blew up the old kitchen, so they had to rebuild it, anyway.”
“Uh…”
He shakes his head. “Long story. Let’s just say that girl loves a war.”
We eat grilled cheese, watch TV, and generally, just hang out.
I love the normalcy, and yet I find myself continually looking at the door, waiting for a certain Russian to appear. He doesn’t.
15
Adelina
Days pass, and it seems like I’m a spare part. I see no one, talk to no one. Even Tommy gets called away, and Zeus becomes my only companion. Once again, I’m an unwelcome stranger in a house that I never wanted to be at.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door, and Zeus lifts his head, ears perking. I get up and answer it. Gio stands there in his an immaculate suit, looking every inch the righthand man of a mob boss.
“Gabriella wants to talk to you,” he says, holding a phone out to me, and I stare at the device mute and frozen. “She’s your sister, Adelina.”
I don’t want him to witness my family dissension, so I take it from him. “Thank you.”
I close the door in his face and back up towards the bed. For a moment I just sit, stroking over Zeus’s fur. I have to talk to her at some point. I can’t just avoid her forever. On a deep breath, I lift the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Adelina,” she breathes. For long moments neither of us speak.
I don’t know what to say to her. My heart squeezes painfully, and that fissure in my chest trembles, threatening to split wide. “What do you want, Gabriella?”
“What do I want? I don’t want any of this, Lina. I want Daddy back. I want my sister back. I want Enrique Bianchi to disappear, but none of that is possible.”
Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I can’t find it in me to pity her. I’m too consumed by her betrayal. “I didn’t ask for this either.”
“No—”
“You knew about the marriage agreement. All these years and you never said anything. Didn’t warn me. Would you have just let him pack me off to marry Enrique and kept quiet? I mean, duty before all else, right?”
“It wouldn’t have come to that.”
“It has come to that! Daddy’s dead!” My voice breaks. “You didn’t even tell me.”
There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry.” Her apologies aren’t going to help me now.
I’m alone, literally and figuratively. “There’s no escaping this, and I am tired of running when I can’t see an end.”
“I’m trying to fix it.” There’s a pleading edge to her voice. My sister never changes, always trying to control every element of a situation. But this is out of her jurisdiction, because the Bianchi’s have her at a disadvantage. We both know it.
