Chapter 15 #2
We’d drive to a restaurant in a borough where the chances were slim that someone would recognize me.
Or we’d make out in the back of a movie theater.
On warm days, we’d go for a swim in the sea in a secluded spot, and he’d made love to me right there on the beach, our cold, wet bodies rocking together in the warm sand.
Dante suddenly speaks in front of me. “Tatiana?”
I give a start, not having realized he’s crossed the floor. “What?”
“You can’t hide from it forever.”
I swallow. “I’m not hiding.”
“Then let’s go.” He turns toward the door. “I’ll tell Jazz so she can keep an eye on Noah.”
I take a rushed step forward. “She’s sleeping.”
His mouth lifts in one corner. “I’m sure she won’t mind if I wake her up.” He checks his watch. “It’s nearly four o’clock. If she naps too long, she won’t get much sleep tonight.”
He leaves without waiting for a reply.
Confused, I simply stand there for a moment. First, he took everything away from me, and now he wants me to fetch my old make-up and clothes?
Why?
Dante never does anything without a good reason. He said so himself. Does he think returning my personal belongings will make swallowing the pill of confiscating my inheritance less bitter? Or does he think going back there will force me to face the old ghosts?
Jazz comes downstairs a moment later, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “I had a wonderful dream.”
“Did you?”
“It involved driving over Reino with that sexy red truck of his.”
I motion at Noah. “Jazz!”
“Sorry.” She grins, not looking sorry at all. “Dante said you needed me to watch Noah because you have something important to do. Is there anything I can help with?”
My fingers tremble as I untie the apron at my back. “He’s taking me to the condo.”
Her eyes flare. “Why?”
“He said I could take whatever I wanted from my old stuff.”
“Shit.” She glances at Noah. “Sorry.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “But I mean, shit.”
I shrug. “It will be fine. It’s just an apartment.” With memories I can’t bear.
“Do you want a shot of whisky? There’s a bottle in the study. You’re not driving.”
That makes me smile. I give her a quick hug. “You always know how to make me feel better.”
“You’re stronger than anything.” She tightens her arms around me before letting me go. “Just remember that.”
Despite her reassuring words, her worried gaze follows me as I walk from the kitchen.
Dante waits in the entrance with my bag and a cardigan that matches the baby-blue fitted dress I’m wearing. After the incident with the heels, he bought me a collection of ballerina flats in every color under the sun.
I get into the car with trepidation. As usual, Dante sits next to me.
Ulysses is behind the wheel. I’ve learned that the blond guy is called Kent.
He made it clear he doesn’t like me, so when he’s on guard duty, we avoid each other.
However, I’ve come to appreciate Ulysses.
Despite being distant, he always treats me with respect, and he watches Noah in the garden when I’m busy in the house.
Two cars go in front and another two follow.
Dante is taking his promise to keep me safe seriously.
Although, I doubt I’ll run into Leander anywhere on these streets.
This is Dante’s territory now. The last time I checked my brother’s social media status, which he flaunts stupidly for the whole world to see, he was living in a mansion on the other side of the city.
My father forbade us to have social media accounts.
He told Leander on more than one occasion how important it was to maintain privacy in our lives, but Leander always liked the attention.
He still loves to pose in white linen suits on multi-million dollar-yachts in Monaco and showing off the thick gold watch on his wrist while leaning on a red Ferrari at the Grand Prix.
He’s even gone as far as posting photos of himself and some sheik with their pupils shot wide at a party with naked girls in the pool.
I wonder what my father would’ve said if he could’ve seen Leander now.
I’m sure he’d never have allowed him to go so far off the rails.
He would’ve sent his men to drag my brother back to the house, and he would’ve chained him in the basement just like he did with my cousin to get him clean and sober when he got addicted to alcohol and heroin.
After that, my cousin simply disappeared. We weren’t close, and I didn’t know him very well, but when I asked my father about him, he just told me my cousin didn’t make it. I was too much of a coward to ask what that meant, but I had a good idea.
The closer we get to the condo, the sicker I feel. The sensation is born from both nostalgia and bad memories. I guess part of the problem is that after what happened, I never got closure.
Ulysses drops us off at the front entrance of the apartment building. We’re met by a small army of Dante’s men who form a tight circle around us.
The doorman greets Dante respectfully. He must recognize me, because his face transforms with surprise and then with alarm.
He jumps to attention from behind his desk, fumbling with his uniform jacket. “Good afternoon, Miss Teszner. I trust you are well.”
The minute the words leave his mouth, his face flushes red. He must’ve realized what a stupid thing that was to say. Everyone knows I disappeared after my parents were murdered.
I smile, not showing how much I’m shaking inside. “How are Clara and Monica?”
“Big.” He grins from ear to ear. “Ten and twelve, and keeping their poor mother busy.”
“I’m glad they’re doing well.”
Dante steers me into the elevator. I hold my breath until we reach the top floor, letting it out slowly as he guides me to the door with his fingers wrapped around my upper arm.
The fact that he has a key to let us in catches me off guard even though it shouldn’t. It just somehow feels wrong.
The imposing interior is exactly the same as I remember.
The statues of Greek gods still line the foyer with its gold-veined marble floor.
The antique vase stands on the cherrywood table in the center, holding a bouquet of white lilies.
It even smells the same. Someone must’ve refreshed the potpourri my mom left in bowls in every room.
Dante closes the door and locks it. His men remain outside. He removes his jacket and hangs it in the coat closet like someone who knows his way around and who’s at home here. And why shouldn’t he be? He said he sleeps here when he works late.
He takes my bag and places it on the ornate table with the hand-carved bone inlays. It’s the only piece of furniture my mother brought with her when she married my father.
“Come.” He goes ahead of me down the hallway. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
I follow him on autopilot, looking left and right at the familiar paintings on the walls. No family photos. Just pieces of art that are worth millions. The photos stayed in my mom’s room on her dresser. She must’ve had at least twenty silver frames with pictures of Leander and me at different ages.
Dante’s steps fall heavy on the marble floor. They echo off the walls under the high ceilings. Another set of footsteps sound on the other side of the hallway, only lighter and faster.
I stop dead, my pulse going through the roof. I expect to see a ghost. In an instant, I’m transported to the past, coming home from shopping. I hear my mom before I see her as her low heels click a path over the floor from the kitchen at the end of the long hallway.
She comes toward me with a big smile, cupping my face between her hands and kissing my forehead. “You’re home, honey. I was getting worried. Are you hungry? I made minestrone soup, your favorite.”
I’m lost in the memory, falling through time. I only know I’m not dreaming because of how much it hurts and how difficult it is to breathe.
But then our housekeeper, Emily, rounds the corner, and I’m thrust back into the present as I take in the yachting sports shirt and slacks she’s always favored.
With her gray hair that’s tied in a neat bun in her nape and her clean-scrubbed face, she looks exactly like she did the last time I saw her.
“Dante.” She goes to him quickly, kissing his cheeks affectionately. “You should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve cooked dinner.”
Betrayal slices like a red-hot blade through me. I trusted Emily. I believed she was loyal. I thought she left after Mom’s death or that she worked for Leander. But here she is, kissing Dante like a long-lost son after everything he did to us. To my mom. To me.
His smile is warm. “I’m not staying.” Turning sideways, he allows her a clear view of me where I’ve paused at the top of the hallway. “I brought someone with me.”
Emily must sense the disaster. Her sixth sense has always been sharp. Her face loses all color even before she looks my way. And when she finally faces me, she resembles one of those Greek statues, standing frozen to the spot as if she’s been turned into stone.
It takes her a moment to find her voice. “Tatiana.” She takes a step closer. “You’re alive.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Brown.”
She flinches at the use of her surname. We’ve always been on a first name basis. She looks helplessly at Dante, wordlessly asking for direction.
“Tatiana came to collect some of her things.”
“Yes,” she stammers. “Of course.”
“I was going to get her a drink.”
“I’m fine,” I say, lifting my chin.
Emily offers meekly, “I can make some tea.” She adds hastily, “Or maybe something stronger.”
“No alcohol for Tatiana.”
As if I’m a fucking child. I give Dante a cutting look.
Dante’s voice is quiet. “Emily.”
She battles to tear her gaze from me, giving Dante a second of her attention before she turns it back to me.
“Emily,” he says a bit more forcefully.
She faces him with a bewildered expression.
“No one can know Tatiana is back.” Dante pins her in place with a serious expression, a silent message passing through his eyes. “Do you understand?”