Page 10 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
A scream slips from Adelina’s throat, and I shove to my feet, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her roughly. When her eyes flash open, I see the blind fear in them, the horror. A lone tear clings to her eyelashes. Stepping back, I sit down and put my earbud back in, ignoring her stare. I do not care for her. I simply don’t want to listen to her screams.
The plane bumps onto the tarmac at Palermo Airport, I glance out the portal window at the surrounding countryside. In the distance, terracotta-tiled villas dot the hillside, the surrounding fields speckled with hay bales. On the other side of the plane, I can see the ocean, stretching to the horizon, where it meets the bright blue sky. I’m not deceived by the quaint beauty here though. This country has been nothing but mayhem every time I’ve been here. All thanks to Adelina.
A black SUV waits on the tarmac, sunshine glinting off the glossy paint. Gabriella’s right-hand man, Lorenzo, leans against the driver’s door. Adelina is quick to embrace him, kissing both cheeks as she smiles wide. She’s wearing jeans, a T-shirt and converse, and next to the suited, brawny man, she looks like nothing more than a child, a little girl.
“Is Gabi okay?” she asks in a rush.
His lined face crumples on a frown. “Yes, of course.”
“Okay. Good. That’s good.”
He opens the back door, and she climbs in. When his eyes meet mine, they’re hard and unforgiving. He’s evidently still bitter about the fact that he allowed Gabriella Ricci to be taken by Bianchi, and I had to go get her back. I don’t care for his personal feelings or Gabriella Ricci. I saved her because Nero asked me to and for Adelina. That’s it. I ignore the man as I climb inside the vehicle.
The pair of them chat in Italian, though Adelina knows I understand every word.
He mentions the wedding, and there’s an undertone of disappointment in his voice, though he never openly chastises her for marrying Bianchi. When he says that her father would have loved to have been there, I almost snort. A blatant lie.
I wonder, if Adelina had insisted on marrying Bianchi, would Eduardo Ricci have stopped it? But of course, he wouldn’t have had to. If he weren’t dead, then she never would have been on a blind revenge mission. Though, if he had simply allowed her to be wed, he may still be alive. Not for the first time, I’m painfully aware of my role in the path that Adelina has taken. Her father’s death was a catalyst for all that has followed.
Equally, had I never killed him, we never would have been thrown together. It was supposed to just be a job, but the consequences have been far-reaching for so many. I wish I’d never taken the job, never met Adelina, and never fallen for her, only to watch her marry the enemy. But here we are again, full circle. Me, taking a job, only this time, I’m aware of the facts, and I know to be wary of her charms.
I tune out their conversation. It’s nothing of any importance, and I feel as though I’m intruding.
When we reach Gabriella Ricci’s villa, I step out of the car. Though it’s winter now, there’s still a warmth in the air that New York lacks. Truthfully, I like the winter in the city. The cut of the icy winds and snow-covered streets remind me of home.
The ocean can be heard lapping at the cliffs that extend beyond the gardens. A gull caws overhead as it drifts on the breeze. It’s peaceful here, quiet, and that is something I miss. Adelina loops her hand through Lorenzo’s elbow as they stroll toward the front door of her childhood home. She smiles up at him, their bond clear, almost fatherly. Once again, I’m reminded of what I took from her, but I smother the notion quickly. I’m not here to feel remorse for anything.
As soon as we’re inside, heels hurriedly click over the old terracotta-tile floor, rushing toward us. Gabriella rounds the corner and practically runs to her sister. Gabriella Ricci has always been the image of poise and grace, a mafia leader. Now though, she throws her arms around her younger sister’s neck and chokes back a sob as she buries her face in Adelina’s shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you again,” she breathes.
Adelina winds her arms around her sister’s back. “I’m fine, Gabi.”
Even her own sister thought she would die in Bianchi’s house. When they finally pull apart, Gabriella’s gaze slides to mine. The smallest of smiles touches her lips, and her expression softens as she gives me a tiny nod. Then her features shutter once more, the mask she must wear slipping back into place.
“Good to see you, Sasha,” she says. “Come. We have business to discuss.”
