Chapter Fourteen
Cesare
GAZELLE COULD NO LONGER hold her silence. "Are we really not going to talk about it?" She had been waiting for her brother to talk to her about what just happened, but all he had asked her in the past hour was if she wanted red wine or white.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"I know that's her , Ces." Gazelle couldn't keep her voice from shaking as she remembered the stricken look on the other girl's face. "And I can't believe you allowed her to think I was your date."
"It doesn't matter what she thinks—-"
"You hurt her!"
"She'll get over it—-"
"No, Cesare. She won't. You broke her heart—-"
The glass stem in her brother's hand snapped into pieces, and a gasp escaped her when she saw him start to bleed.
"Signore!"
Nearby servers were in a panic, but Cesare didn't pay them any heed as he used a table napkin to apply pressure to the large gash in his palm.
"Is there anything we can do to—-"
"Apologies for the disturbance." The dismissive note in Cesare's voice wasn't lost on the staff, and they were quick to walk away without another word. If Cesare Marchetti did not want them to fuss over him, then they were no idiots to insist on doing otherwise.
Gazelle hadn't known what to believe when their grandmother told her over the phone that Cesare was not his usual self. Cesare had always been the most ruthless among her brothers, and she had grown up somewhat thinking of him as their family's most invincible pillar of strength that no one and nothing could ever topple.
Until now.
"You love her," she whispered.
"Shut up, Gazelle."
He had never spoken to her like that before, and instead of feeling hurt, she just wanted to cry because she was all the more convinced that what she had said was true.
"Please make me understand. Why do you have to push her away—-"
"Because she makes me feel needy—-"
"Oh, Ces." She had to work harder not to cry, since all those words really meant was that her brother did love that girl, and he probably loved her even more than Gazelle could ever comprehend.
"I know...you're thinking that you love her, the way your mother loved our father—-"
"And it's true," Cesare bit out. "We both fucking know it's true—-"
"It is true, and I'm not going to convince you it's not. But Ces...can't you also see? Penelope isn't like our father. She won't leave you, she won't hurt you, and I know—-"
Her voice broke as she remembered the sound of Penelope throwing up behind them.
"By the way she's hurting, you know...you know she never stopped loving you, so please—-please, Cesare——"
Please go after her before it's too late.
But Gazelle was unable to say those words...since her brother had already left.
Penelope
I keep waiting for Greg to realize he's being followed.
But he never does.
I keep waiting for him to start shooting at us.
But he doesn't do this either.
And so I end up following him all the way to a motel, and I ask my cab driver to park a short distance away while I wait and watch.
Is this a trap?
Greg's making it so easy for me to stalk him. The motel has open corridors that lets me see exactly which floor he gets up to, and even which room he enters.
This has to be a trap.
My cab driver looks at me like I've lost my mind when I give him a thousand dollars...but when I tell him I'll hand over another grand as long as he waits for me to come out, the older man even insists I save his number in my phone, just in case I need any kind of help.
You can do this, dude.
My hands start feeling clammy as I take the stairs all the way to the fourth floor, and my steps silently come to a stop now that I've passed five doors from the left.
If this door is locked, then...
I have no idea what I'll do next, but it's just my luck that the door knob turns rather easily in my fingers.
Maybe...this really is a trap?
There's only one way to find out, and as soon as I step inside the room—-
Oh...SHIT.
The first thing I see is Greg...standing over an old man's corpse.
"Well, I'll be damned."
He actually sounds amused , and that's when I realize this isn't a trap at all.
"You and Marchetti seem to have an unfortunate talent for sniffing out dead bodies."
This is just a madman thinking he's so damn smart, he's like Ted Bundy reincarnate with how he's so convinced he'll be able to get away with whatever crime he cares to commit.
"Since this is your last day alive," Greg goes on conversationally, "I guess I should give you some closure. When I found out about Pilar's will, I worked fucking hard to look for your parents—-"
"And you killed them..."
Greg feigns a look of surprise. "Damn. How did you figure that out?"
A part of me just wants to throw all caution to the wind and be fucking done with it.
Kill or be killed.
But somehow...I manage to stay still. "What about my grandmother?"
" Duh ."
I look at the dead body on the floor. "And...him?"
"Ah." Greg is smiling again. "Say ciao to my own fucking papa. "
I can't stop myself from flinching as he starts kicking his father's corpse like he's bored and just looking for something to do.
"The old man somehow figured out I'm behind Pilar's death, and he started freaking out over the phone. So I asked him to come meet me here, and when it became obvious that he would never be willing to go along with my plans..."
I guess this really is the day, God...with how everything keeps making sense.
"You're the one who wants to revive the drug trade..."
"Bingo." Greg actually sounds impressed when he says this. "I was wondering if the Marchettis would keep you in the dark about it."
"Do you really think they'd let you get away—-"
"Fuck the Marchettis!" Greg stalks towards me, and it takes everything to stand my ground and not move a muscle. "I really had high hopes for you, Penelope. I really believed I could get you to marry me, and that I could take over the Sorrento clan as your husband. But since that's now off the table, I'm thinking you'd make a nice little gift to my new business partners instead..."
Cesare
Terror had bile rising to his throat as Cesare got back into his car and started making calls. His first call was to Ezio; this brother of theirs also lived in New York, and it was to Ezio he entrusted their sister...since there was no knowing what it would take to undo the fucking mess he had caused.
His second call was to Giancarlo, who was in charge of their family's personal security. Cesare would bet his life that his eldest brother still had bodyguards shadowing Penelope's every move even if they were no longer betrothed—-and he was right.
"I'll text you the number of Penelope's head of security." Giancarlo made the offer as soon as he realized what had happened. "Do you need anything else?"
"Prayers." And Cesare was deadly serious. "I need you to pray that I still have a shot at getting her back."
"Dio sia con te, fratello." God be with you, brother.
And finally, his last call was to a number he had blocked almost a month ago.
Please pick up. Per favore, tesoro. Pick up. Please.
But her phone only kept ringing until it went into voice mail.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He dialed the number from Giancarlo's text, but the tension gripping his chest didn't fucking loosen even as Penelope's bodyguard answered his call on the first ring—-
"Mi dispiace, signore."
And that was because...a part of him had already known he had his punishment coming.
No, Dio, no.
It wasn't just the words from Penelope's bodyguard that made his blood run cold. It was also the noise he heard in the background. The wailing of sirens and law enforcement officers radioing in details of a crime scene. Ambulance doors being thrown open and first responders wheeling out stretchers.
He fucking knew what all of those could mean—-
Please. God. Please.
"Just fucking tell me," Cesare said rawly. "Is she safe? Is my Penelope alive?"