Chapter 15 #3
She nods a couple of times. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“Good.” He grips her shoulder. “I trust you.”
Good for her. And him. They bonded.
“Yes, Dante,” she stutters, stealing another glance at me.
“Go ahead.” Dante gives me the warmest smile he’s given me since he found me in Denver. “Pack whatever you like. The suitcases are where they’ve always been. I can send for boxes if the bags aren’t enough.”
Strangely enough, Emily’s betrayal has made me numb.
I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse.
All I know is that I’m standing outside of everything that’s happening, looking in like a stranger.
Or maybe it’s just my mind’s way of protecting itself, of shutting down so I don’t suffer the pain of another treacherous act.
“I won’t need a suitcase, thank you.” I look at Emily. “If you could be so kind as to escort me to the pink bedroom, I’ll appreciate it. I won’t be long.”
Emily reels at my impersonal tone.
Dante frowns. “It’s your house, Tatiana. You can go around freely.”
“No, it’s not.” I fix him with a look. “It’s your house, and that makes me a guest. My mother taught me manners, including that it’s rude to wander around in someone’s home.”
Clearly not liking my answer, he narrows his eyes. But he nevertheless waves a hand at Emily. “Go with Tatiana. Help her get whatever she needs.”
Emily scurries to obey. She rushes around me and glances at me over her shoulder as she hurries down the hallway. I follow her back to the foyer and down the other hallway that gives access to the bedrooms. I’m faintly aware of Dante’s steps falling behind us.
The lounge is off to the left of the foyer. The study is on the right. Together with the library, the study is the same size as the spacious lounge.
My feet slow when we pass the open door.
I swear I can still smell the cigar smoke that always wafted from the room.
The burgundy hues of the curtains and carpet are as gloomy as ever.
The furniture is dark and heavy, just like my father used to be.
For a flash of a second, I see myself there, on my knees on the floor, facing my father.
A shiver runs through me.
Nothing more.
Just that little shiver.
Somehow, I’m detached from that girl.
I didn’t realize I’ve come to a stop until Emily pauses up ahead and turns around with a frown.
Dante gives me a strange look.
Shrugging off the memory, I continue on my way.
Dante doesn’t go down the hallway with us. He remains in front of the study, his eyes burning holes into the back of my head as Emily opens the second to last door and stands aside with a bowed head.
“Please.” I indicate the room. “After you.”
Her head jerks up. Bewildered, she gapes at me. “But Tatiana, it’s your room.”
“You heard me, Mrs. Brown. I’m merely a trespasser here.”
She looks at Dante, who nods with pursed lips.
“Very well then,” she whispers in a shaky voice.
She goes inside and stands next to the bed with the pink frilly bedspread. I feel nothing as I walk inside. Mercifully, I’m untouched by the trinkets and baubles I collected.
As Dante has promised, he hasn’t touched a thing. The surfaces are dust-free, and the tiles smell of the lemon-scented floor wash Emily has always used. My books are on the bookshelf, the page markers still sticking out where I stopped reading.
I motion at the closet. “May I?”
Emily coughs. “Go ahead, please.” Her face collapses. “Tatiana, Dante has been good to me.”
My back goes rigid. “And my mother wasn’t?”
Her cheeks turn red. “Of course she was. You know how much I loved her.”
“It didn’t take you long to change your loyalty for the other side.”
“Dante needed someone to take care of the condo. He offered me a room and let me stay here. I didn’t have to commute any longer. He pays my medical assurance and takes care of my bills.”
I smile. “I suppose we all have a price.”
“It’s not like that.” She takes a step toward me. “He’s not a bad man.”
Seriously? I raise a brow.
Flustered, she irons out her slacks. “You know what I mean.”
“If you say so.” I open the closet and push the dresses aside. “Do you mind if I move the shoes?”
“For the love of God, child.” Her expression turns pained. “Those are yours. Why don’t you take them?”
I kneel and put the shoe boxes aside.
Her voice drops an octave. “Leander has been through your things. He left everything in a mess.”
I’m sure he did.
“What was he looking for, Tatiana?”
I don’t reply.
She continues in the same secretive tone. “It took me a week to put it all back in place.”
One of the floorboards is loose. I use the nail file I stuck behind the skirting to lift it. The box I hid is still there. I take it out and blow the dust off the lid. Then I pack the shoes back in their place.
Straightening with the box, I give Emily an impersonal smile. “Thank you for your help. I won’t take any more of your time.”
She runs after me. “Tatiana, wait.”
I don’t because she doesn’t deserve my attention.
I trusted her, and she betrayed me just like Dante did.
She not only carried on working for him when she knew he killed my mom, but she also developed a relationship with him.
She obviously cares enough about him to defend him.
That puts them on the same side, which is against me.
Emily doesn’t come after me when I go in search of Dante. I find him in the library, leaning an elbow on the mantlepiece as if he owns it, which he does, of course. He’s staring into the cold fireplace, his perfect features set in concentration.
No, not perfect. He’s impossibly handsome.
There’s no arguing the fact. But in the light that falls through the tall windows, the shadows of his face are more pronounced.
His nose is the slightest bit crooked, not so much that you’d notice it if you looked him straight in the eyes.
But from this angle, the faults in his making are more visible.
Yet instead of diminishing his beauty, those tiny flaws only add to them. They make him more unique.
He looks up when I enter. His gaze shifts to the box I carry under my arm. He wants to hide his curiosity, but I know him too well. Even though he feigns disinterest, I recognize the way his eyes tighten a fraction like they always do when something has caught his attention.
I pause just inside the door. We remain like that for a moment, assessing one another from across the distance.
Although his stance remains nonchalant, his tone is serious. “You’re upset about Emily.”
Smiling, I shake my head. “Did you just want to rub that into my face? Is that why you brought me here? To show me that everyone has turned against me?”
He straightens and lowers his arm to his side. “That wasn’t my intention. I brought you here to take what you want. I thought seeing a familiar face would make you feel better. If I’d known finding Emily here would upset you, I would’ve asked her not to be present.”
As if that would’ve changed the fact that she’s a traitor. I prefer knowing the truth to hiding my head like an ostrich in the sand.
I tap the lid of the box. “I found what I wanted.”
He drops his gaze to the box again. “That’s it? No photos or sentimental ornaments? Not even your mother’s jewelry? Leander sold most of it, but I managed to save a few pieces. I reckoned you’d like to have them.”
Walking deeper into the room, I shift my hold on the box. “This is all I need.”
He watches me intently as I stop in front of him.
His gaze follows my actions as I put the box on the side table.
He’s dying to know what’s inside. His whole body is coiled like a spring.
The need to know is eating him alive. He wants to snatch that box away more than anything he’s ever wanted to do.
I can tell. But he shoves a hand in his pocket and keeps up his casual manner.
His eyes dart to the box when I flick off the lid. I take out a thick pile of letters, each one addressed to me in the same handwriting.
Dante’s letters.
He left me notes and love letters outside the building, hidden in the hollows of tree trunks and under the flowerpots on the ground floor windowsill.
I kept everything, every rose and each wrapper of the chocolate hearts he gave me.
The flowers that I pressed between the very pages of the books in this library are now brown and flaking.
One by one, I throw those keepsakes and letters into the fireplace.
His gaze is no longer curious as he witnesses the action.
The unreadable mask is back on his face.
He says nothing, not even when I take the lighter fluid from the mantlepiece and drench the small pile in the fireplace.
He doesn’t as much as wince when I put a match to them.
He only speaks when the flames are leaping up the chimney, burning away the sweetness of our history, his tone as neutral as his expression. “Those were my letters.”
“No.” Transfixed, I stare into the orange glow of the flames. “Those were your lies.”
“Burning them won’t change the fact that I meant every word I wrote on those pages.”
The fire burns out quickly, just like we did.
Slowly, I turn my face back to him. “I stopped believing you on the night you proved to me that you can’t be trusted. And burning them doesn’t only erase your words. It erases every trace of the farce that existed between us.”
Those letters are the symbol of everything that went wrong in my life. They represent every tear I shed and all the pain and humiliation I suffered. Dante crashed into my life like a wrecking ball and destroyed everything.
Before him, I was an obedient daughter. I never lied, I never slipped out in the dead of the night, and I never went against my parents’ wishes. My father had no reason to check my email or my phone. No one knew about Dante’s letters or messages.
Back then, when I was young and in love and na?ve, I could live on a bowl of strawberries and Dante’s text messages.
I didn’t need food or water. He was my everything, the air I breathed.
We were inseparable even though we could only sneak in a few minutes to be together a couple of times a week.
Time and space had no meaning to me, not when it came to Dante. I believed he was my soulmate.
I was a fool.
I stare into his golden eyes that resemble the color of the dying embers in the fireplace. The line of his jaw is set in a hard line, but his anger is as cold as the ashes soon will be.
“You can force me into marriage and take my shares, but there’s one thing you need to understand. There was a time when you meant a lot to me. Now, you’re nothing to me, and you’ll never mean anything to me again.”
With that, I walk out, leaving that part of my life behind for good.