Chapter 11
G enevieve
“Are you okay?” I asked Bella. She was huddling against me, but in the last two days, I’d seen her resolve increase, her strength a source of comfort to me.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” she answered. We were sitting in cold plastic chairs and just sitting here seemed so much more real and defining than the service in the church. I barely remembered anything people had said about him, all the bullshit I’d heard keeping me nauseated.
“Of course you are. Maybe tonight you can sleep.”
She pulled away from me, giving me the first smile I’d seen since hearing about our father’s death. “You haven’t slept either. I’ve heard you pacing the floors.”
“That means you were out of your room.”
“I wanted to check on you. That’s my right.”
I laughed and hugged her. “Where’s our brother? The priest is about ready to say a few words.”
“Marco isn’t interested in sitting with us. Why is he so angry?” Bella asked.
How could I explain the situation to a thirteen-year-old girl so that the details of what our life had been turned into wouldn’t terrify her? “We all handle grief differently. He’s suffering in silence, but after a few days, I’m certain he’ll be back to his old self.”
I hoped so. He’d purposely avoided me for the last two days, refusing to hear anything or give me his okay on the funeral arrangements. I’d wanted to get it over with quickly and that sounded selfish, but I’d received a few threats, something I’d kept from both Bella and Marco.
After torching the warehouse, I’d anticipated Jago coming out swinging, but he hadn’t so much as called me. That made me more nervous than if he was also issuing the vile threats.
Sadly, neither Antonio nor Emiliano had determined who they were coming from and had assured me they were likely from cranks who just wanted me rattled.
Well, it had worked. I was so far on edge I’d started keeping a gun with me at all times.
That just wasn’t about living. I wasn’t certain how much longer I could keep up a strong front.
At least I hadn’t been forced to deal with any other act of betrayal with the soldiers.
However, I knew it was only a matter of time until something else occurred requiring me to act like a brutal drug lord.
That just wasn’t me even if it was in my DNA.
“Oh, great,” she huffed. “He’s surly most of the time.” We shared a little laugh as the priest moved toward the podium.
There was nothing worse than seeing so many people dressed in various shades of dark charcoal or black, myself included. The color was just another terrible reminder that this was final. That Papa wasn’t coming home.
At least it was a beautiful day, warm enough my shivering had been kept to a minimum.
I tried to sit back, but as soon as the priest started to speak, I had a feeling I was being watched.
Not just from the onlookers who were pretending to care about our loss while doing little more than sizing up the competition.
I slowly turned my head, tilting it over my shoulder so I could take a better look at the tree-lined knoll that backed up to the area where my mother was also buried.
There were at least two hundred people here, very few I recognized, some simply because I knew them from social media posts or news online.
There was no telling how many people would be strolling through my house. Right now, I needed donuts. I bit back a laugh. The silly little thought kept me grounded.
And not screaming like some banshee.
Maybe my feelings were based on my nervousness on how to move forward.
There weren’t any easy answers and the danger remained high.
The estate felt more like a fortress than anything.
I wanted to go shopping or to catch up with old friends and see a movie or go grab a drink, but that had been discouraged.
I’d never felt more like a prisoner than I had the last few days.
I tried to concentrate on what the priest was saying, but it was so difficult.
My emotions were all over the place and if I allowed myself to remember the horrible night or even wonderful memories with my papa, I’d burst into tears.
The last place I wanted to show any sign of weakness was here at this moment.
The priest continued his sermon and every minute or so, my skin prickled. I scanned the area again, taking more time to search the surroundings. I noticed Marco, who was standing with two of the hitmen. His face was somber and he refused to allow me to catch his eyes. He looked so angry.
I wanted to shout at him that I was too. I was pissed at having our father taken from us, but that wouldn’t do any good or mend our relationship. We were both broken. Just as I was about to sit back again, I noticed someone walking and instantly the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Jago.
He found a spot under a large cypress tree. Dressed in a dark suit, he appeared more handsome than before. My thoughts rushed to the half an hour spent in his home, hating that I could still remember how his touch had seared my skin.
Or that his kisses had left me hungering for more.
In his hands was a bouquet of flowers. I hoped they had thorns because I’d use them to scratch out his eyes.
Wouldn’t that bode well for diplomacy within the group?
He was flanked by one of his goons, the man scanning the area as all good soldiers should do.
At that moment he turned and almost instantly locked eyes with mine.
I was torn from the combination of desire and fury but refused to look away.
Everything else faded away at that moment.
There was no sound, no focus on anyone standing around the small group and the light breeze no longer even tickled my skin.
The fury erupted into rage, which drowned out the ridiculous sense of longing. The man was a murderer. Even if he hadn’t been lying and had had nothing to do with my father’s murder, he was determined to use the man’s death to his advantage.
To hell with him.
I remained seated, but my blood continued to boil.
As soon as the priest was finished, I stood. I’d done so with such abruptness Emiliano immediately headed toward me.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“Fine. Watch Bella for me. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, grabbing my arm.
“Nowhere far, girlie. Just to talk with someone.” I nodded toward the tree and Emiliano bristled the moment he noticed Jago.
“Do you want me to get rid of him?” he asked.
I shook my head. “This is something I can do and should do. Just take care of my baby sister.”
“I’m not a baby,” she insisted as she stood.
My commander gripped my arm. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“Who me? Never. This is a funeral, after all.”
Winking, I did my best to keep my composure, which included a plastic smile. There was no sense in anyone thinking a single guest’s presence bothered me.
Even as I made a beeline for the man, I was stopped several times, forced to endure fake condolences, but I kept my eyes on him. He wasn’t moving, merely standing like a statue, but I had an overwhelming sense he was waiting for me to approach.
When I was finally within a few feet, the soldier standing with him backed away as if this had all been planned. I took my time since my heels dug into the soft earth. I wasn’t certain how I felt when he handed me the white roses.
“Let me guess. Is this meant as a sign of a truce? Or do you have gaseous poison in a vial poised to let loose as soon as I sniff the flowers?” I asked, accepting them without slapping them across his face.
“So dramatic, Genevieve. I don’t think it’s in either of our best interests to continue our petty fight.”
“I’m surprised you choose to call it a fight when you’ve used much darker tactics to do nothing more than prove a point throughout your career.”
He chuckled and allowed his gaze to fall. He was undressing me with his eyes, but he had the almost charismatic way of making doing so seem beautiful.
“You are correct. I have. Although I’ve never intentionally destroyed priceless works of art before.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t realize you could tell the difference in works of art.” That floored me.
His single nod left me chilled. “My father kept his art inside the warehouse. While it obviously appeared unassuming to you, simply a location where we stored illegal party favors, the upstairs was a secure, conditioned space where he could switch out his favorite art pieces.”
Shit. I had no idea what to say to him and in truth, why should I care? “Someone torched your goods?”
“Let’s not play any games,” he suggested. “You proved your point. My offer was low.”
“Yes, very. However, torching works of art wasn’t my intent.”
“I’m certain it wasn’t and I’ll give you credit for your ability to catch me off guard. I assure you that it won’t happen again. However, we need to discuss this further.”
Something about the way he issued his statement brought another tingling feeling, but not from desire. His eyes suddenly turned even darker and colder than before.
“We don’t have anything to talk about, Jago. We’ll never see eye to eye on what my family’s business is worth and quite frankly, I enjoy the challenge.”
“Do you now? Do you also enjoy the way vultures are flying around you, ready to pick off your successes one by one?”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“I’m doing you a favor by keeping what you’re facing realistic, Genevieve.
You’ve weathered a few days of scrutiny.
You should be thankful your soldiers haven’t walked out, but they will if clear direction isn’t provided.
I doubt you’ve been able to do that. Perhaps I’m wrong.
” He lifted a single eyebrow, honestly anticipating I’d provide him with some admittance.