Chapter 30
DOVE
They’re saying it was a gas leak.
Right.
I wrap my arms around myself against the chill of the hospital’s air-conditioning. A little way down the hall Bane is talking quietly in a small group: a guy called Sergey who works for him, Nikolai, two of my dad’s top underbosses, and my father himself.
I don’t trust myself to look in their direction. I worry they’ll see the guilt written in neon all over my goddamn face, even though I don’t know if I should be feeling it.
It wasn’t me.
It couldn’t have been.
A darker, more vicious, possibly more truthful voice snarls inside me.
Yes, it could.
I was there. I was at the carriage house less than two hours before it exploded.
Felicity’s alive, at least. And awake, and doing okay. And as much as I hate that fucking dog, I'm relieved that Chanel is fine, too.
No one was killed.
I cringe as I say it over and over in my head, trying to assuage the guilt.
There's a small tap on my arm. Turning with a jump, I find myself face to face with Chiara.
“What are you doing here?”
She smirks. “Hey, literally any excuse to get hell out of New Jersey and away from being Mrs. Ferrari.” She shrugs. “Plus, I guess even wicked stepmothers deserve a minute of face time after they get blown halfway to Connecticut.”
I bite back the grin that almost peeks out. Not because I’m worried about being insensitive to Felicity’s accident.
…But because I’m l not sure if I caused it. If I did, that’s no accident.
It’s attempted murder.
“Dad said she’s going to be fine.” Chiara pouts. “Guess my birthday wish last year didn't come true.”
When I bite back another trying-not-to-look-guilty smile, Chiara sighs.
“C’mon.” She winks at me. “It’s funny. Not like she died or anything.” She giggles. “Heard her eyebrows are gone, though. Bonus!”
This time, I do grin. A little.
“So, how’s married life?”
I smile, and my face heats.
“Well then,” she giggles. “Guess that answers my next question if you two are fucking or not.”
I blush deeply, cringing. “Chiara!”
She rolls her eyes. “Dove, we’re adults. And I think sisters are mandated by law to talk about these things.”
I sigh. “It’s…complicated.”
“Well, complicated has a nice little flush to your cheeks and sway to your hips, in case no one's told you. And trust me, complicated is better than my situation.”
My face falls as I picture Gio Ferrari.
“Do you have to…?”
She makes a barf face. “Fuck him? Oh, Jesus, no. No.” Her nose wrinkles. “Can you imagine? How do you even have sex with Jabba the Hutt? I mean physically.”
I snort loudly, laughing at the gross visual.
“No, Gio would much rather pay professionals to screw him, which is fine with me.” She eyes me. “Trust me, Dove, you won the lottery with your situation.”
I smile privately. “I…don’t know about that. Well, maybe, I guess.”
“Maybe?!” She rolls her eyes. “Dove, please. A, he’s hot. B, he’s very hot.”
I laugh. “Okay, I get the picture.”
“And C?” She nods past me. I turn and flush when I realize Bane is staring right at me.
I’ve caught him doing that a lot since that night on the roof of the Empire State Building. Except most of the time, there’s been dark, malevolent flames flickering under the surface.
Like he’s convincing himself not to bury me alive quite yet.
This time, the look on his face and burning in his eyes is entirely different.
It’s…warm. Still fierce and deadly, with that same almost eerie, unblinking focus. But it doesn't bring a shiver down my spine this time. No twinge of fear.
The way he’s looking at me right now is just pure possession.
“Dove.”
I blink, somehow pulling my eyes away from Bane and back to my half-sister. She lifts a brow, smiling quietly and shaking her head.
“C, I promise you, Gio doesn’t look at me like that. I don’t think any guy has.”
Part of me wants to burst her bubble and tell her that he’s looking at me like that because he’s wondering the same thing I am.
If I did this.
If I'm guilty.
If I'm a killer.
Because if I’m capable of this—did I kill Lorenzo, too? Did I somehow get free and overpower him? Was I the one that cut his throat before Antonio and my father’s men riddled his body with bullets?
Chiara coughs delicately, and I feel a presence behind me. When I turn, my pulse jumps as I look up into Bane’s dark, all-consuming eyes.
They linger on me a moment, his gaze piercing right into me.
Not with accusation. It’s not a “what the fuck did you do” look.
It’s like he’s staring into my soul to make sure I’m okay. To let me know that he’s here for me and not going anywhere.
I’ve never felt that before.
Ever.
He looks past me toward my sister.
“Chiara,” he nods.
“Bane,” she smiles back.
“I was hoping to have a word with my wife.”
It’s truly scary how much I like the sound of that from his mouth.
“Yeah…” Chiara’s eyes flit to mine, her brow raising to checking if that’s okay.
I give a subtle nod back, and her lips curl up before she looks at Bane.
“Yeah, of course.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Hey… Call me sometime, okay? I feel like we…” She glances at Bane quickly before her eyes slide back to me. “Just call me.”
I suddenly hug her, which I don’t think we’ve done in years.
“Count on it,” I say quietly.
I watch her walk over to our dad before I look up at Bane.
“We’re getting out of here for a while,” he says quietly.
I nod. “Fine by me. I hate hospitals—”
“I don’t mean the hospital.”
He takes my hands in his and looks down into my eyes.
“I’m taking you away from New York.”