Chapter 27
Willow
The morning light peeks around the sides of the drapes, lighting an otherwise dark, damp room. I shift, moving the comforter over my shoulder, and let a leg wander closer to Leo.
He’s asleep on his stomach, with one arm cast in my direction. He woke me a couple of times, tossing and turning.
Last night he came to bed late, and I can only presume it has to do with what happened with Leandro. I asked him if all was okay, and he said yes and for me to go to sleep. I snuggled into him, but he didn’t try anything. Last night marked the first time we slept together and didn’t have sex.
I’m not sure what I’ve brought him into. I thought the marriage would end all risks, but—yet again—it appears I’ve been naive. Ultimately, my father gave my hand to Leo. What Leandro did, arriving at our flat intending to take me, was psychotic. Going after Lina so he could assess where Leo and I were living, absolutely obsessive. But now, where does it end?
Is the syndicate now at war with the Lupi Grigi? He said we’re safest here, at Nick’s estate. Does he worry his flat in London, forty-one floors in the sky, isn’t safe enough when we’re being hunted? Is Massimo after us? Or just me? I could turn myself in. Leandro is dead. If I turn myself in, would Massimo be appeased? Would he leave Leo alone? Is he taking his anger out on my family?
The dim light smooths over the lines around Leo’s eyes, shaving years. His strands are in disarray, with some portions flattened straight, others sticking out in awkward directions. The peaceful slumber contrasts with the uneasy night. His long lashes flutter and his lips curl into a smile.
“Morning, beautiful.”
My fingers smooth over his shoulder, and I wiggle closer.
“Were you watching me sleep?”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” The answer is evasive, but it’s not a lie.
He softly touches the skin below my eye, the one that took an elbow when I fought Leandro’s men. It’s a little sore to the touch, and I imagine the bruise darkened overnight. Thin scabs formed over the torn areas of my wrists.
He pushes onto his side, releases a groan, and rubs a hand briskly over his face.
“Something’s wrong. What’s going on? What’s happening?” Last night, he said everything was okay, but he was protecting me, the same way Father would.
“Everything’s fine.” He rubs sleep from his eyes then caresses my cheek. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine.” I look straight at him, needing to see the truth. “Did we start a war?”
He blinks and then squeezes the bridge of his nose. He slings his legs over the side, away from me. A chilly draft sweeps beneath the comforter.
“Massimo won’t send anyone here.”
“What is he saying? How did he react to the news?”
“Of his brother being a lunatic? The way one would expect.” I swallow down his non-answer. “I’ve got to go away for several days. You’re going to stay here. You’ll probably spend quite a bit of time with Lina. But I need you to remember something for me… She doesn’t know shit. You can’t fill her in, you got me?”
“Why doesn’t she know?” In the Lupi Grigi, we’re taught at an early age the importance of family. From what I understand, that’s essential in organizations like ours. Many were surprised I didn’t learn about the family business until I was sixteen. Why wouldn’t Lina know what her brother does? For that matter, how is it she’s not married? Is the syndicate run differently?
“Don’t have an answer for you, love. It’s not my business. But it’s what Nick wants, so that’s what he’ll get.” With a sad expression, he traces my bottom lip with his finger. “I’ve got to shower. Pack.”
“We didn’t pack any clothes.”
“I have spares in the closet. Lina has some clothes you can wear during your stay. Or you can shop online. There’s an address Lina uses in town, and one of the guards will pick up packages.”
“And Lina doesn’t get suspicious?”
“Her head’s in the clouds.”
She doesn’t want to know the truth. He walks naked into the bathroom, and the globes of his well-formed buttocks gleam as his muscles flex with each step.
His phone lights up as the sound of a shower filters into the room. I get out of bed and open the drape, revealing a cloudy morning with no direct view of the sun. The phone vibrates again.
He’s going away again. For days. Is Lina the only one who doesn’t want to know the truth? Is he going to attack Massimo? Or is the Lupi Grigi nothing to worry about, and he’s simply leaving me here to go visit another woman he has on the side? Scarlet says all the men do that.
I pick up his mobile. It’s not like the burners he routinely tosses in the rubbish. When I brush my thumb over it, it asks for a code.
With the mobile in hand, I stick my head into the bathroom. Steam envelops the ceiling, and moisture coats the painted wall. Either the bathroom doesn’t have a fan, or he didn’t turn it on.
“Leo, someone’s trying to reach you. Two texts have come through.”
The shower is in a clawfoot tub, and there’s a plastic hanging curtain. His head peeks from behind the curtain. White suds cover his head, and there’s a razor in one hand. I step up closer and spot a mirror hanging on tile near the front of the tub.
“I’d get you in here if there was more room.”
“Be careful shaving. If you slip, you’ll cut yourself.”
“No shit.” I hold the mobile up to him and the device unlocks with facial recognition. He frowns as he reads. “It’s nothing. I’ll be out in a few.”
“I’m going to turn the fan on,” I say when I spot the switch.
“There’s a fan?”
I roll my eyes as I exit the bathroom, leaving the door ajar to allow some steam to escape.
And then I glance at the mobile in my hand.
The texts are from a number with no name applied.
Package en route.
Crystal
I flick to read more, but there are no messages. The history has been deleted. It’s probably a precaution. My brother called Leo the arms dealer. While that sounds more legitimate than drugs, it’s my understanding the trade isn’t always legal.
His email is also empty. Who doesn’t have any email history? How is that even possible? Nothing filed.
I switch over to the camera. I’ve never seen him snap a photo, but wouldn’t it be lovely if he secretly loves landscapes or architecture?
No such luck. He has all of a dozen photographs in his collection. I must have seventy-five thousand uploaded. Yes, the two of us have differences. I zoom closer to see what ranked as important enough for Leo to snap a photo. Documents. How bizarre. I zoom in. It’s a weapons list. Contracts. Bills of lading. Manifests for five of my father’s ships. I recognize the ships’ names. What’s he doing with these? And where did he get them? From my father?
The shower stops, and I close out of photos and set the mobile on the bedside table. While my discovery is better than finding plans to meet a mistress, a pit forms in my stomach. I never knew what Leo got out of our arrangement, but this discovery leads me to suspect he did, in fact, get something out of marrying into the Titan Shipping business. But why not tell me? What is he doing?