Chapter 46 - Elena
Elena
After a restless night’s sleep, alone and in my old bedroom, I wake to find Maximo gone. He promised we’d talk this morning. So why did he duck out early? Is he avoiding me? That’s what it seems like.
Disappointment and hurt courses through me. Suspicion too. I spot the note on the kitchen island and flip it open, my fingers strangling the paper.
Cara mia,
I’m sorry to not be here this morning, but I have business to attend to elsewhere. Julius was found dead. His funeral is tomorrow afternoon. The car will pick you up at three. Afterwards we will talk, I promise.
See you then.
All my love,
M.
Julius is dead? When did that happen and why didn’t Maximo say anything about it last night?
Is that what he’s been dealing with at work?
My stomach sinks with dread. If they got to Julius, who’s next?
How are they getting the information since Mrs. Rizzo certainly isn’t passing it along to anybody?
There must be a rat within the families.
Disappointed that I won’t see him until tomorrow, I let the note fall to the marble countertop.
Regret thrums through my veins. He really meant it when he said he had a long day and just wanted to sleep.
While I kept pushing him to talk about that woman, and making accusations.
I should have asked him about his day, to see if he wanted to talk about Julius’s death, instead of…
I blow out a heavy sigh. Instead of interrogating him.
Losing a consigliere is a big deal. A major loss both personally and professionally. How is Maximo taking it? I don’t quite know how close he was with Julius, but I’m sure it’s taking a toll on him.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit at the kitchen island.
We do need to have a discussion about the mystery woman, but I realize that now is not the time. Yesterday, home all alone, I realized I worked myself up into quite a state. Do I really not trust Maximo at all?
On the surface I’m suspicious of who that woman is and why she showed up at our door. But deep down, my intuition insists I can, and should, trust Maximo. He wouldn’t cheat on me. My fears are wrapped up in my own insecurity. And last night… I was not a good version of myself.
He told me he loved me—and I didn’t say it back. I feel terrible.
I haven’t spoken those words yet. Though I think about them a lot. I’m not sure when it happened exactly, but one day I looked across at him and my stomach fluttered and I realized I’d been in love with him for a while.
Of course, every time I try to tell him, the words stick in my throat. Maybe I’m not one hundred percent sure? No. I’m sure. One day I’ll be able to say it out loud.
As I make myself a simple bagel with butter for breakfast, my thoughts drift back to Maximo. I’m assuming someone murdered his consigliere. Maximo must feel like the world is crumbling around him. I should be there for him. In whatever way I can.
I barely get any work done today as my thoughts are consumed with this turn of events. Then I consider the other options. Did our enemy kill him or was his death completely unrelated? It could have been an accident, or Julius could have enemies of his own. I wonder what Maximo thinks.
The hours drag on. He’s gone all afternoon and into the evening. Which fuels my insecurities. As well as my worry.
Disappointment curls around me as I don’t hear from him. He could send a simple text letting me know he’s okay.
Is he okay?
What if something’s happened to him? I shouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t need the distraction, I’m sure. But another minute without hearing from him is going to drive me insane.
Finally, I break down and text him.
Elena:
Are you still alive?
Maximo:
Are you worried about your husband, cara mia? How sweet.
I huff out a relieved sigh, then roll my eyes. Obviously, he’s fine.
Maximo:
I won’t be home tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at the funeral.
Elena:
What happened to Julius?
My text goes unanswered. Damn it.
One of my captors opens the kennel door and shoves a bowl of cold soup inside. I swear this man enjoys making the simplest of things as miserable as possible. Why can’t he warm up the soup? There’s a kitchen right there. I hear voices from it.
“You knew she had an identical twin, so why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” an angry voice snarls.
The answer comes back tiny, like the person isn’t actually in the same room. “No one knew until it was too late. You told me you had her, then I watched her walk down the aisle. It’s not like I could stop the wedding to that filthy Irish bastard without drawing suspicion.”
“Now what the fuck are we supposed to do with her? She’s useless.”
“I need time to think. Just keep her locked up, until I figure this out.”
I grip the bars and scream, “No! Let me out.”
The man in the kitchen comes around the corner and snarls at me. “Shut up!”
He has a phone in his hand.
“Am I on speaker?”
“Yeah.”
“You fucking idiot.”
I wake with a start, drenched in sweat and chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Was that a memory or just a nightmare? I bury my head in my hands, wracking my brain. Was there a third man? Or only the two of them? Why can’t I remember?
My heart lurches, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Only two men were brought to justice, the man who was shot by his partner, yes I consider that punishment enough. And the man Cian caught and dealt with last year, but if there was a third…
I groan. No. There wasn’t a third man. My mind’s playing tricks on me. My therapist warned me about how that could happen.
That wasn’t a memory, just a twisted version of the truth dredged up by my subconscious. I haven’t slept well recently. That’s all.
Another unproductive morning rolls into a sunny afternoon. I choose a modest black dress from my wardrobe, along with an appropriate hat and shoes.
I’ve been to far too many funerals in my life. The past five years have been riddled with them. First my brother’s, then my parents’, my uncle’s, and now this one for Julius. It’s just part of living a dangerous life, I suppose. I’m grateful for all of those who I haven’t lost.
We live by the gun, and we die by the gun. That’s what Papa used to say.
Once I’m ready, I slip into the short hallway and ride the elevator down to the lobby. Guillio and Augustus escort me to the car waiting out front. I slide into the back seat, surprised to find Maximo here. He did say he’d see me today, but I thought he meant at the cemetery.
“Hey,” I greet him in a soft tone. “I’m sorry about Julius.”
He splays his fingers through his wavy hair and grunts. Dark circles color the area beneath his eye, and I wonder if he slept at all last night.
“What happened?” I press for details.
“His body was pulled from the river two days ago. Throat slit.”
“Murdered,” I murmur to myself. “Do you know who did it?”
He shakes his head. “It’s an open investigation. But my guess is no one will find anything since we haven’t found one damn clue yet. We located where he was killed. Nothing there.” Frustration rolls off him in waves. “If they can get to him, they can get to anyone.”
A shiver prickles my skin. Whoever’s out to get us is closing in, and it’s like we’re sitting here wearing blindfolds.
The car ride passes in a blur, then we’re joining the procession into the cemetery.
I slide my hand into Maximo’s as he helps me out of the town car.
Exchanging my pink frames for a pair of dark sunglasses, I let him lead me to a seat in the front row.
All four families are gathered here today.
We should all feel united. Yet someone among us is a snake—two-faced.
The summer air feels sticky against my skin, and birds tweet in the branches above us, adding too much cheerfulness and hope to such a somber affair. The sun beams down like we should be having a picnic instead of burying a dead man.
Maximo’s hand slides into mine, squeezing my fingers as the priest starts his prayers. I glance over at my husband. His expression gives nothing away. He appears stern and entirely focused on the proceedings, yet his thumb rubs small circles on the back of my hand.
My gaze slips over to Mrs. Rizzo. I’m met with a subtle dip of her chin.
Lazaro sits on the other side of Maximo. I study him. Could he have done this? He and Julius worked closely together, they’ve known each other for years. I even believe they liked each other. So, why kill him now? That doesn’t really make sense.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m completely wrong about everything. This threat could be coming from the outside. They could have gotten lucky. A coincidence that they caught Maximo on his yacht. Perhaps they stumbled upon Julius near the water. Anything’s possible.
Either way, it’s come down to us versus them. There can be only one victor. One survivor.
I glance all around us, noting the heavily guarded cemetery grounds. Even those seated are armed. If anyone chose this moment to attack, it would be an all out battle. We certainly have strength in our numbers. Can our enemy claim the same?
“Amen,” the priest speaks.
We echo him.
Then the world explodes with a deafening BOOM. One moment I’m in my chair, the next I’m on the ground with Maximo’s weight pressing down on me.
My ears ring.
My skin feels oddly sensitive and tingly.
Wetness trickles into my hair.
What in the hell happened?
Panic pierces my chest as I push up on Maximo. He doesn’t move, his body is like a lead weight.
My first thought is he’s dead. Devastation hits me like a freight train. A low whimper escapes my lips, but I can only hear the sound inside my own head.
I push at his body again, trying to inhale a single ounce of air.
Finally he moves, ever so slightly shifting his weight to one side. His breath tickles my cheek.
Oh thank god, he’s alive. I let myself marginally relax as relief floods my system, drinking in the feel of him. He’s solid and very much alive.
Maximo pulls back far enough to peer into my face. I search his features, grateful to find him in one piece. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I cling to him, a desperate sob climbing its way up my throat.
He murmurs something. I shake my head, unable to hear him.
Frowning, he pulls me up with him. That’s when I finally notice the chaos all around us. People scream and cower. Others have their guns drawn, prepared for anything. The priest, who was closest to the casket, pats out the flame clinging to his ruined clothes.
Warm wetness drips onto my cheek. I touch my forehead, my fingers coming away bright red with blood. I must have been hit with a piece of flying debris. Maximo produces a silk pocket square and presses it to my wound.
My gaze latches onto the smoking remains of the casket. Something about it is all wrong. I blink, my head swimming from all the adrenaline, and probably some after effects of the explosion.
An explosion that was only strong enough to create a hole in one side of the coffin. As far as I can tell, no one was killed, only hurt.
Was that on purpose?
Why plant a bomb to scare everyone instead of killing them?
Then I realize what’s wrong with the coffin—it’s empty.
No smoking corpse. No remains of any kind. It’s been empty the whole time and someone wanted everyone else to know about it.
No Julius. Is he even dead?