Chapter 25
Lorenzo
“What is wrong with Isabella?”
Amalia had just set down my sandwich—she still wasn’t allowed to do any of the major cooking, but she’d argued that she could handle lunch, at the very least—and she paused, surprised. “You’re finally speaking to me, then?”
Things between Amalia and I had been tense since my fight with Elio. Like him, she and I hadn’t had a proper conversation. But for the last two days Isabella had been short-tempered, and while she assured me that she wasn’t upset, that had to be a lie.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to me, given everything.”
Amalia snorted and slapped the back of my head. “Stronzo,” she spat without any heat behind it. “Apologize for breaking my husband’s face.”
“Ehh…” She smacked at me again, and I laughed and held her off. “Fine,” I said, “fine, I’m sorry about Elio’s face.”
She sobered. “Are you going to say that to him?”
“No, just you.”
She hummed. “Good,” she said. “He’s being an ass, and I told him that I wouldn’t forgive him until he apologized to Isabella.”
“Same,” I agreed and took a bite from my sandwich. Damn, but I missed her making meals. “Do you know what’s wrong with Isabella?”
Amalia’s face twisted.
“She’s mad, right?”
She sighed. “She’s trying to figure out how she feels about certain things,” she said as diplomatically as possible.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Amalia patted my shoulder. “Ask her about it,” she said and swept from the room, taking a sandwich with her. Elio had been making himself scarce in the house, not coming down to the kitchen or dining room, and all of our work-related communication happened through Damian.
I finished my lunch in silence, contemplating what had happened to upset Isabella so badly. She had been fine until that visit to the Palazzo. Then, she had gone cold after Nikolai had sent Yulia as a gift.
Was she jealous? That had been the case with Gia, but Yulia wasn’t competition in the same way, so why would she feel that way?
After cleaning up my dishes, I headed back to my office, and I paused when I passed by Sienna’s office. The door was shut, and I knew that it was locked. It had been ever since I’d stopped Isabella from tearing the room to shreds.
Maybe this was part of the problem. Sienna’s presence was still so heavy in the house; maybe it made Isabella feel unsettled.
Maybe it’s time to put it all away, I thought.
“What are you doing?”
I turned. “Is that really the first thing you’re going to say to me?” I asked my cousin. Elio’s face was mottled with purple bruises that were starting to yellow. There was a burst blood vessel in his right eye. “Shit, cugino, you’re a mess.”
Elio snorted. “No kidding? I thought I could rock the ‘fresh corpse’ look.”
I chuckled. “Are you still pissed at me?”
“Yes,” he said without an ounce of hesitation. “But Amalia can’t stand when I eat in our room, so she said I have to apologize.”
He wasn’t actually going to say the words, but I didn't really need them. “Apologize to Isabella, and that will be enough.”
“I can do that.” His eyes flickered back to the closed door. “So, what are you doing?”
“I think it's time I put some things away,” I said.
Elio sucked in a breath, shocked. “Seriously?”
“I want Isabella to know how much she means to me. I don't want Sienna haunting us anymore.”
“Do you want any help?” he asked.
I didn't, but I appreciated that he asked. The issues with the Russians aside, Elio and I rarely disagreed. He had proven time and time again that he was going to remain by my side. “Get me the key? And maybe grab some boxes?”
Elio was happy to have a task, and he hustled down the hall to my office. After replacing the lock, I kept the key in my desk. Damian and Elio both knew about it, but they pretended that they didn’t.
Once I got Sienna’s office open, I flinched. I had locked it back up just as Isabella had left it: books torn to shreds on the floor, broken lamps, and all. Well, at least this needs to happen anyway.
I filled the boxes that Elio brought to me with Sienna’s books first. I touched the covers gently as I took them off the shelf. Sienna had loved these books; she would spend weeks searching for the editions that she wanted.
The books that I could salvage I put aside. I would have someone donate or sell them somewhere. Once those were packed, I sealed the box and set it aside and started on the shredded mess on the floor.
I thought that doing this would be painful, but with each book and knickknack that I packed away, my chest felt lighter. Like I was clearing away cobwebs that had needed to go for a long time.
I would never forget Sienna; I would never stop missing her. But if I didn’t let her go, I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to fully embrace Isabella like she deserved.
When the office had been stripped to its basic furniture—a gift for Isabella to craft in whatever way she liked—I grabbed Damian and Elio. “Get a burn bin started for me?” I still had to clean out the clothes that I had squirreled away.
“Sure thing, boss,” Elio said with a salute.