Page 78 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
It was silent as Damian drove me to the airport. I hadn’t brought much with me, just enough things to fit in my backpack. It made leaving all the more painful, like I had nothing to take with me except what I’d come with.
A part of me wanted to cling to Damian like ivy. The other part of me considered that I’d be pushing my luck. If he was remorseful, he didn’t show it. Silent as shadows, we spent the hour drive to his private airstrip bathing in tension.
It wasn’t lost on me that, just as I’d dropped my walls, Damian had built his quicker than a lightning’s flash. I couldn’t blame him. The circumstances didn’t look good. I knew how it felt to have trust issues.
That didn’t mean this didn’t hurt. It also didn’t mean that the hurt and anger didn’t push itself to the forefront of my mind. It did. I brimmed with anger. My fingers shook, and we both were so damned angry, I doubted either of us could form sentences.
At the airstrip, the male flight attendant opened my door for me and led me to the plane’s stairwell. I turned back to see Damian, but he’d already driven away. I knew he needed time, but once you’ve already waited ten years for someone you love, you can’t bring yourself to do it again.
I forced myself to sleep as I settled on the plane. The back of the private plane had been fitted with a small bedroom, and I wondered how often Damian slept in this same bed. The sheets and pillowcases smelled of laundry detergent, but when I peeled the case back, I caught Damian’s scent.
I slept on the bare pillow and woke up two hours later to Damian’s scent. Nostalgia crept into my heart, and despite how angry I was at Damian, I decided I needed to find answers for the both of us. Because what if Maman was The Benefactor? I didn’t believe it, but there were facts I couldn’t ignore.
The stewardess arrived soon after I pressed the call button on the nightstand. She was as perky as I was mad. “How may I help you, ma’am?”
“Ask the pilot to reroute the flight to the Hamptons.” I remembered my manners a beat later. “Please.”
“Of course. Which airstrip?”
“Nob Bay.”
I would go to the Hamptons.
I’d confront Maman.
And when I was done, I’d wipe my hands of heartache.
My heart hurt enough for a lifetime.
I reminded myself that Gaspard, Maman’s majordomo, had done nothing wrong as he reached out for a hug. After returning it half-heartedly, I pulled back. “Is my mother here?”
We stood in the doorway under a massive arch. A set of luggage stood idly near the entrance, and a few staff members brushed past us.
Gaspard nodded and led me to the library, where Maman and I usually spent our time together. “I’ll let her know you’ve come. She’s been missing you, my dear.” His stern look brushed off me. “She’s been sad that you haven’t returned her calls.”
I ignored his words despite the pang they caused. “Where is Mère?” It felt oddly comforting to say ‘Mère’ to someone who understood the difference Mère and Maman. Not comforting enough to erase the discomfort I felt from Damian’s accusations.
“She’s with a guest.” Normally, his French accent drew comfort.
Instead, I just felt sad. “Who?”
He arched a brow but didn’t comment on my barrage of questions and their less-than-polite delivery. “A law enforcement officer.”
“Is she in trouble?”
“No.”
Which meant he either worked for the Vitali or worked for her. “Does this law enforcement officer have a name?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a law enforcement agency?”
“Yes.”
“But you won’t tell me?”
He didn’t need to. When I told Maman that Ariana De Luca was in the FBI, she hadn’t been surprised. Which meant she’d already known, and the law enforcement officer must have been connected to the FBI. Goodness, how many jars did Maman have her fingers in?
