Chapter 12 Sophia #2
Luca snatches it away, tearing the card from the envelope. When his brows draw together, my heart forgets to beat. “That bastard. That sick son of a bitch.” He takes the card to Rocco and Dante, and the three of them pore over it while the guards gather around them to look over their shoulders.
Which means the long package on Rocco’s desk is clearly visible now. From where I’m standing, I see a bouquet of roses that died a long time ago, now withered and brittle.
It’s what nestled inside the bouquet that makes me cover my mouth with my hand, like that will do anything to hold back the bile racing up my throat once I realize what I’m looking at—a small glass jar filled with liquid and a pair of eyeballs.
Heads snapped up at the sound of my gagging.
“Get her out of here,” Rocco barks, and I’m reminded of the man he really is.
He sounds like he would gladly tear somebody’s throat out right now.
When I look his way before Dante takes a hold of me, it’s evident from the wild light in his eye that it’s me whose throat he would gladly tear to shreds. I’m the enemy now.
“Come on,” Dante growls at me before telling the others he’ll be right back.
I’m too dazed to think. It doesn’t even register that he’s taking me back to the house I still can’t think of as ours until we’re outside, and the humid night air hits my cheeks.
Those eyes. Who did those eyes belong to?
It’s the only thing I can think about while my husband unceremoniously drags me home, ordering more of the guards we pass up to the house in case they’re needed before he thinks twice and waves one of them back.
“I want one of you to hang back and guard her.”
Her. I don’t even have a name.
“You saw what was delivered,” he mutters through his teeth once we reach the covered front porch, where he opens the door before almost shoving me inside.
I would think he’s taking his anger out on me if I didn’t notice the way he then looks around outside the house one more time before closing the door like he’s shaken, paranoid.
“I wish I hadn’t,” I whisper. Eyeballs. Did Alessandro tear out somebody’s eyes? Not that there’s much I would put past him, but I can’t fathom it.
“Tell me the truth… what can we expect next? What is that maniac going to do?” Dante folds his arms, standing in the center of the living room and glaring at me like I’m the one responsible for any of this. Like I’ve ever been able to control anything the men in my family do.
“Like I have the first clue. I haven’t talked to him in forever.” I’m beyond confused, not to mention trembling as I drop onto the sofa with my hands clenched in my lap.
He snickers before asking, “Really? You expect me to believe that? Your own brother went radio silent on you?”
“Oh, because you and Luca are so close, and you can’t imagine siblings not touching base every day?” I retort.
I’ll give him one thing—he doesn’t bother pretending not to know what I mean. In fact, he flashes a wry grin. “I see your point. It’s only that I can’t understand why he would rear his ugly head after staying silent for so long. Why now? What’s he thinking?”
“No idea.” A shiver runs through me and pebbles my skin with goose bumps. I know somebody who might have a clue, somebody I haven’t spoken to since I told him how inappropriate it is for us to message each other.
“Well, I need you to start asking questions. Get in touch with your father. No, on second thought…” he decides while a grim smile twists his lips, “… I’ll do it.”
“Wait. Please wait,” I almost have to shout when it’s obvious he’s heading for the door, ready to go back up to the house where I’m sure Rocco and Luca and everybody else are beside themselves. To hell with them.
Lifting my head, I find him staring down at me. Is he confused? He seems that way, cocking his head to the side and everything. “Can you stay with me for a minute, at least?” I ask. “All of the war talk and chest-pounding can wait, don’t you think? Your wife needs you right now.”
His face falls a little, but at least he steps away from the door. “What do you need? What can I do?”
My hands twist in my lap. I don’t know what to say. Typical me, making a stink but coming up empty when it counts. “Just sit with me for a little bit? Don’t drop me here before going back to the things that really matter.”
His cheeks puff out when he blows a deep sigh, rounding the coffee table and settling in the middle of the sofa, close enough to touch, but he keeps his hands to himself.
Still, something about his warm, steadying presence loosens a little of the tightness in my throat and my chest after seeing that hideous gift.
“I can see how you would look at it that way,” he murmurs, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees and toying with a coaster on the table in front of us. “I don’t think of it that way, but then I guess I don’t think about it at all. I don’t do it deliberately.”
“I grew up with parents who are rarely in the same room with each other unless it’s a big event.
So maybe I’m a little more sensitive to a couple living as roommates.
” I can’t help sliding a glance his way, remembering all of the lovey-dovey eyes at dinner.
“I can’t imagine your parents were ever like that. They adore each other.”
A smile stirs at the corners of his mouth. I really shouldn’t stare. “They do,” he agrees with affection. “Papa is a puppy dog when it comes to her. But…” His smile changes to a frown before he goes back to messing around with the coaster, turning it in circles.
“But?” I prompt. Why does he shut down on me like that? It’s beyond frustrating. Just when I think we might be able to build a bridge, he checks out.
Snorting softly, he replies, “But they didn’t start out that way. Their marriage was arranged.”
I can’t help but gasp. “Seriously?”
“Mama told me not long ago. Just before we were married, in fact. I’m sure she was trying to encourage me.” His wry smile fades before he clears his throat. Right on schedule, he closes down on me.
“We’re seeing their after, not their before,” I muse. “They’ve been married for how long?”
“Longer than the few weeks we’ve been married. That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it?” There’s curiosity in his dark eyes when he turns toward me.
Right away, I wish I could take it back. “I was only asking.” Why does he have to look at me like I’m under a microscope? I can’t tell if he’s studying an unknown species or fighting not to laugh at me. Either way, it doesn’t exactly make me feel good.
I don’t have to deal with it long, thanks to his phone buzzing loudly in his pocket. “I should get back.” He sounds regretful, strangely enough, as he stands while checking the message. “Do you think you’ll be all right here? You’ll have a guard on the porch, and I won’t be long.”
I feel like I’m in a business meeting. Should we shake hands next? “I really didn’t know what my brother was going to do,” I whisper.
All of a sudden, I feel very alone, even more alone than I did before dinner, when all I had to worry about was a husband who makes me want him when it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t want me.
Now I have the thought of my brother out there somewhere, acting like a freaking maniac, killing somebody, and taking their eyes to get back at the Santoros.
And maybe to get back at me for marrying into the family.
“Hey, Sophia.” There’s concern in my husband’s voice when he drops to one knee in front of me. It’s like some bizarre parody of what should have happened when we got engaged. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I don’t think you’re behind this, and I’ll make sure nobody else does. Trust me.”
Tears flow down my cheeks faster than I can catch them.
“It was just so… so ugly…” I stutter between sobs.
“And he’s my brother… and I don’t… I don’t know…
” I don’t know how I’m supposed to live like this.
I don’t know if my brother is truly sick enough to take his rage out on the people who are now my new family, like it or not.
I don’t know if he’s going to take it out on me.
“Come here.” And now I’m in his arms once he’s pulled me to my feet. For the first time in too long, I can breathe without a weight crushing my chest. I’ve been carrying something very heavy for much too long, and it’s finally time to set the burden down and let someone else deal with it.
“I’m here. I’m not going to let this hurt any of us,” Dante vows, stroking my hair, letting me melt into him. He’s so much stronger than I am. I’m tired of trying to be strong.
With my face against his shoulder, I whisper, “I’m scared.” There, I said it, and I’m still alive. He’s still holding me. “I’m scared of what he can do. I’m scared somebody’s going to get hurt.”
“I’m telling you, nobody’s getting hurt.
” He’s gentle but firm, lifting my head away from his shoulder so he can look me in the eye.
His touch is surprisingly gentle, brushing hair away from my face before staring deep into my eyes.
“Nobody hurts what’s mine. Do you understand me? I want to hear you say it.”
“Nobody hurts what’s yours,” I whisper.
“And you are mine.” His arms tighten, drawing me closer. “You’re my wife. My family. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper, because I do understand his words. I understand what they mean. What I don’t understand is the heat flaring to life between us, the way every impulse tells me to lean in and invite him to what? Touch, taste, explore. I want to lose myself, and he is my only option.
The air is sucked from the room once his fingers press against the small of my back and his gaze lingers on my mouth.
Yes, kiss me. Touch me. My aching heart screams even louder than my aching body, craving him.
I’ve been alone for so long, even when I wasn’t, even when I was surrounded by the family who was supposed to love me.
I was always alone on a deserted island, fending for myself, almost like I had to justify my existence.
And now here he is, staring into my eyes, his breath hot on my face as he leans closer before finally brushing his lips against mine and making my soul sing.
A growl rumbles in his throat before he sinks a hand into my hair and angles my head so he can deepen the kiss.
My knees are weak, meaning I have to hold onto him, clutching tight while he makes me whimper with every stroke of his tongue.
He is pleasure, he is escape, he’s everything I need most after the ugly turn tonight took.
All the fear, all the dread, all the questions.
I pour them into my kiss, searching for answers while Dante’s hands move over my body and my fingers dig into his shoulders.
My skin is tingling, and my heart is racing the way Dante’s does when he crushes me against him, tight enough that I can feel the rapid drumbeat in his chest. One of his hands slides down my back and cups my ass, setting me on fire.
My pussy aches in response to the deep growl he releases once he breaks the kiss.
“I do have to get back up there.” He sighs, though he doesn’t let go right away.
I can’t believe how much I want him to stay and not to comfort me.
There’s nothing I would like more than to climb him like a fucking redwood.
But my brother is psychotic, and he’s tired of staying quiet.
The thought of that hideous jar is water on the fire blazing away in my core.
“Okay. I’ll probably put on a movie or something.
I would rather wait until you’re back to go to bed, I think.
” Having a guard outside is one thing, but I’d feel safer knowing Dante is across the hall.
“I’ll try to make it fast,” he promises, though I don’t hold my breath as he leaves.
Rocco is beyond murderous, and Luca will want blood from the man who kidnapped and tortured Emilia. I’ll be alone for hours while they plan and obsess.
But for the first time since the wedding, I’m looking forward to seeing my husband walk through the door.