Chapter Ten #2
He distracted them both as best he could.
It took a few more days for him to put certain precautions into place, and to finesse a few of the more tedious, bureaucratic issues in play.
It was tempting to question why he was doing such a thing in the first place when it would be infinitely easier to stop. And to do what he’d been ordered to do.
But then every time he came back to the villa, he found he lost himself more and more in Rux. And the way she came running to meet him, once—at his request—she ascertained that it was actually him. He did not like to think what would happen if someone else came by and saw her here.
Some mornings she would wake before he did and he would find her out in the garden wandering in and out of the overgrown rows, as if she was familiarizing herself with all of that green, all of that bloom.
Sometimes he would find her on one of the balconies that faced the sea, looking out at the birds flying high over all that blue as if she wished she could take flight herself.
As if she’d never seen too much of the world, just the cells that had held her.
He could not think on that too much or he might find a reason to return to that ugly fortress in Prague to express his thoughts on that to Boris Ardelean directly.
Jovi had come to accept, however begrudgingly, that while he did not enjoy surrendering himself to his feelings—having only recently accepted that he possessed them—there were some things that took him over, and she was one of them.
She was all of them, if he was honest.
One evening they were out in the garden. It was a mild night, and the sea air was soft against his face as he sat beneath his favorite tree, smiling—yes, actually smiling—because Rux was acting out her favorite movie for him.
She had asked if he’d watched it. He had assured her that he had no interest in entertainment and besides, he did not keep electronic devices around this house. There was only his tablet and his mobile. Nothing else.
Don’t tell me that at heart you’re a Luddite, she’d said, clucking her tongue.
She was wearing one of the dresses he’d bought her, something shimmery and bright that reminded him of her laughter.
He liked to see her in it. He liked to hear her laugh.
He particularly liked to make her laugh when he was deep inside her and could feel her laughter, like he was learning how to be something more than ice by feeling her do it.
But this was no longer that first night and the glut of need thereafter. There was no longer the same driving requirement to take her in a wild rush, knowing that he would lose her by his own hand, and soon.
It was possible that even if he tried such a thing now, his own hands would defy him and do as they liked. Which could never involve hurting her in any way that did not involve the bedroom.
These days he could allow the anticipation to build. He could actually let himself enjoy it. He could feel, which was something he certainly wasn’t comfortable with, but he was willing to do it.
Around Rux only.
Electronic devices can be hacked, he told her. The fewer I have, the less likely it is that they will be compromised. And the more easily I can monitor them on the off chance that someone imagines they might best me.
She’d eyed him for a moment and he’d braced himself, imagining that would be one of her quiet questions that he always interpreted as an attack.
That was what it felt like—as if she was taking a sword she should not have been able to wield and slamming it straight to his ribs, through to that place where his heart still ached.
But she didn’t ask him anything. Instead, she started acting out the movie—something involving a princess named after a flower and her romantic travails.
The strangest part was, he was actually enjoying it.
Jovi found anything and everything she did charming. That was the issue.
And he was already deciding how best he would reward this charm, what level of obedience he would require, and how many times he would use it to make her melt in his hands. He liked a challenge, after all. Particularly one she felt was impossible.
But instead, he heard the sound of a familiar car on his drive, and everything…splintered.
He was no longer made of ice, perhaps, but he was still him.
And he didn’t need to go and see who, precisely, was approaching the villa. Time was up no matter who it was.
Suddenly, the time they’d had until now seemed like a blink. A moment.
When Rux froze, her gaze on him, he realized she was mimicking whatever he was doing. He didn’t have to tell her not to speak, to let him listen. She knew enough to simply watch him and wait.
Everything in him stilled, the way he’d taught himself long ago.
He heard a car door slam, but only the one. He knew it could only be one person—the one who would scoff at the notion that he needed henchmen no matter what he was doing, but who would also have been forced to bring them along if he’d come to do something himself.
That meant that Antonio was extending an invitation to his nephew.
Jovi let himself work through the various chess moves that this opening salvo on the family’s part put into play, then moved his gaze back to Rux.
Who stood there waiting, God help him, as if she would wait for him forever.
“Go into the garden,” he told her, and did nothing to make his voice less dark. “Hide yourself well and don’t come out. Not until I tell you to.”
He thought she might argue, but she didn’t. She only whirled around, and darted into that undergrowth. He watched her go and noted exactly where she disappeared, crouching down into a gnarled section that looked like thorns.
Good girl, he thought.
He picked up the tray of friscu and arancina and tossed it all into the greenery, so that it would not look as if he was entertaining anything but his usual grim thoughts.
And when his cousin made his way out of the house and down the back stairs, Jovi looked the way he always did.
Sitting still beneath the tree, gazing at nothing. Doing nothing.
Although this time, it was clear to Jovi that he’d lost his touch. He was no longer the man of ice he been his whole life. He was well and truly melted. But he could not allow himself to worry about that. He thought of ice. Stone.
More than that, he thought of what would happen if Carlo had any reason to suspect him. Of anything.
It didn’t matter if he felt like ice, he reminded himself. Only that he looked like it.
As usual, he did not greet his cousin until Carlo had come around to stand over him, looming in that way of his that he no doubt imagined was threatening—though with his coward’s inability to follow through without already knowing he had the upper hand.
“How long have you been back?” Carlo asked. Perhaps he imagined it came out as a threatening demand, but he couldn’t seem to stand still.
Jovi cut his gaze to his cousin and remained impassive. He did not clear his schedule through Carlo. He never had and he never would.
It occurred to him that Rux had not been wrong to suggest that he had a kind of death wish. He served his uncle. He would not serve his cousin. There was only one way that typically ended.
Had he always known that? Or had he simply not cared enough to think through the details and possibilities?
It was amazing what clarity a man could find when his heart finally beat properly in his chest. So loudly that he was shocked his cousin couldn’t hear it, but then, he doubted Carlo heard much above the din of his own self-interest.
Carlo looked at him, then quickly away when he accidentally met Jovi’s gaze. “My father wants to talk to you. You can’t be surprised.”
“I am neither surprised nor unsurprised,” Jovi replied without inflection. “That is not my job.”
“Your job was to take that bitch out,” Carlo retorted. “Instead—”
“Instead?” Jovi asked. Mildly. “Have you laid eyes on her? Has anyone?”
Carlo scowled him, but he didn’t dare maintain eye contact. Jovi merely gazed back at him.
For a long moment, there was nothing. The sea air. The night sky.
“He wants to see you now,” Carlo gritted out. “Unless you have some compelling reason why you’re suddenly disobeying orders?”
Jovi stood. He did it smoothly and swiftly, and managed not to smile when his cousin stepped back. Quickly.
“Are you questioning my loyalty, Carlo?” he asked in the same mild way he always did, complete with a faint tilt of his head.
He was well aware that the effect on others was threatening.
Carlo shook his head, temper and fear all over his face. “Just remember, my father takes promises seriously.”
It was almost as if he was warning Jovi. Helping him.
Almost.
What Jovi remembered was that Carlo had been here in the villa that night, though he’d been a boy himself. He remembered his cousin’s gleeful expression. His high-pitched laughter, more disturbing than the screaming—and not any better when Jovi could no longer hear him.
He’d blocked that out for a long time, because it wasn’t helpful.
Jovi merely gazed back at Carlo until the other man shifted again, clearly uncomfortable. And likely furious that it showed. That his cowardice flashed neon bright and Jovi had never pretended he couldn’t see it.
“I never forget it,” Jovi assured him in the same soft tone. “I never will.”
He didn’t look back toward the garden. He kept his gaze trained on his cousin. “There is only one person who deserves my loyalty. And it has never been you, cucinu.”
Carlo made a noise at that, as if he couldn’t believe Jovi dared. But not a loud noise, because he knew better. Behind him, Jovi thought he heard a rustle in the shrubbery, though he didn’t dare look to see. He could not allow himself to be the one who gave Rux away.