Chapter Two #2
The door to the cellblock creaked open. My muscles tautened in anticipation as I lifted my head from my knees and leaned against the wall, feeling safer with something solid to support my back.
My eyes burned from exhaustion. A glance at my watch revealed that it was nine in the morning.
Nobody had come for me since Eduardo had dropped me off here eight hours ago.
Would the torture begin now? I would have expected Lamorgese to spend longer in the hospital, considering where my knife had hit him, but maybe he wouldn’t torture me himself.
It wasn’t Achille Lamorgese who entered the cellblock, though.
Only his own flesh and blood, also a Lamorgese in name, leaving me wary of her loyalties.
She seemed like a kind girl, but after the betrayal I’d encountered yesterday, I wasn’t willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, especially not with a father like hers.
She closed the door near soundlessly before she walked over to the gate of my cell.
She wore plush red slippers and a long terry bathrobe of the same color that reached her ankles.
Despite this, she shivered in the cool basement air, and goose bumps erupted on her skin.
Her pale face seemed to glow in the dim light.
Shadows spread under her eyes, and the haunted look in them made my pulse pick up.
I tried to ignore how dire my situation was, but seeing the blatant concern on her face drove it home.
“Why are you here?” I rasped, my throat scratchy from thirst.
“I’m sorry for what happened. For your loss. For everything.”
I only stared. I hadn’t allowed myself to mourn my father and uncle yet. When I didn’t react, she blinked, then lowered her gaze with a sigh. “I wanted to tell you that I didn’t know this was going to happen.”
I believed her even though I didn’t have a single reason to. Something about her just felt too pure to be deceiving.
Six hours before
I lingered in the grand entry hall, wishing we could finally leave this place. The stench of blood and feces from the spilled bowels was overpowering even here. I wasn’t sure how the men cleaning up the ballroom handled it.
I closed my eyes, shuddering. This evening felt like a nightmare come true.
I couldn’t shake the betrayed look in Nestore’s eyes when one of his old bodyguards had dragged him out of the ballroom and down into the basement.
I’d overheard a few men discussing the cells situated there.
The idea that Nestore was locked up down there made my stomach turn.
Maybe I could talk to Father. Nestore wasn’t even a grown man yet.
Flavia came floating up the winding staircase, looking ashen. “Is he still in there?”
I nodded. Father hadn’t left the ballroom since I’d run out of it two hours ago. Flavia had been lucky enough to be outside when all hell broke loose. “Did you know?” I whispered.
She let out a huff. “I’m a woman.”
Steps sounded, and Father emerged from the double doors, holding his side and limping badly.
Both Flavia and I moved to follow him toward the winding staircase where he was heading, but he raised his palm. “You stay here. I’m heading to our hospital.”
“Stay here?” Flavia questioned. Father’s hand lashed out, and he slapped her hard. She stumbled back with a gasp and held her cheek. I froze, terrified of making a wrong move. The fury in his eyes was too familiar.
He motioned around us. “You stay here. This is our home now. It’s a mansion worthy of an Underboss. The staff already carried your belongings upstairs to the bedrooms.”
My lips parted in utter shock. Father’s eyes narrowed on me, waiting for a word of protest. I snapped my lips shut and nodded meekly. “What about Nestore? What will happen to him now?”
Father gripped my hair and tore at it, making me cry out. “He’s my prisoner. You will forget he exists, understood?” He jerked my head back hard, making me scream.
“Yes, sir,” I pressed out when I could speak again.
He turned and left. His descent of the staircase was slow, and I didn’t dare move until I heard the sound of the front door closing.
I shook my head in denial. Through the half-open ballroom door, I could still see blood. This place was haunted. I brushed down my hair, but it was a mess.
“You should stay away from your father for a while. He’s very volatile,” Flavia murmured.
I dragged my eyes back toward her. “Are you okay?”
Flavia lowered her hand from her flaming cheek, her shoulders stiffening. “This is nothing.”
I wished it weren’t true.
“I don’t want to live here,” I admitted in a whisper as a couple of cleaners dressed in white bodysuits carrying red-tinged mops walked past us with lowered heads.
Flavia touched my shoulder, her eyes hard. “I know. Neither do I. But our wishes are irrelevant. Let’s go to our rooms and change clothes. Your skirt is soaked with blood.”
My gaze slid down the length of me as dread settled in my bones. Flavia was right. My velveteen shoes and the hem of my dress were encrusted with dried blood. The fabric was a darker red in those spots.
I retched. Flavia clamped her hand around my upper arm and dragged me toward the staircase that led up to the third floor. “We must keep our countenance. These walls have eyes and ears. We don’t want your father to find out about another moment of weakness.”
I pressed my lips together, forcing the bile down. He had seen me throw up in the ballroom, and his gaze had promised punishment, but so far, he’d been too busy schmoozing Falcone and basking in his triumph to make good on his promise. Was it a weakness to feel sick at this display of brutality?
Goose bumps covered my body as I followed Flavia up the stairs. The maid who had greeted us earlier appeared in the hallway, startling me half to death. I gripped Flavia’s arm tightly.
“I’m sorry for startling you,” she said formally. “I want to inquire if you need help with anything.”
“No,” Flavia clipped, her expression laced with suspicion.
The maid curtsied. “Breakfast will be served at seven as per your husband’s request down in the dining room.”
Flavia nodded, and the maid finally left.
I sank my teeth into my lower lip. We really would live here.
Then another thought struck me. If we lived here, maybe I could find a way to visit Nestore. He certainly needed company and probably food. I couldn’t imagine that prisoners would be treated decently under my father’s rule.
The present
It was strange to see Nestore like this, caged in like an animal, his clothes crumpled, hair a tousled mess.
The soiled toilet in one corner of the cell had no walls around it for privacy, with a tiny sink beside it.
The entire cellblock smelled rotten, as if something had died down here and been forgotten.
My belly tightened at the thought, worrying that the same would happen with Nestore.
I wished I could help him, but I was already lucky I had managed to sneak down here without being caught. I had no clue where the keys were.
I had gotten up at six and hurried downstairs way before breakfast to watch from the landing above what was happening down in the foyer.
It had allowed me to observe two of Father’s men guffawing as they carried a dog bowl filled with what looked like porridge covered in poo through a heavy steel door.
The thought still made me gag. They had emerged shortly after, laughing about Nestore’s disgusted expression.
But at least I knew where to find the basement entrance.
“Why are you still here? I would have thought you’d be heading home once the party was over.” His mouth twisted with bitterness.
I flushed. “My father wants us to make this our new home. He wants us to move in right away.” I shuddered thinking of the bodies in the ballroom, of the trails of blood all over the house and gardens.
I’d never be able to see this house as anything but a cemetery.
But father didn’t care about my feelings. He only cared to flaunt his triumph.
Nestore laughed, a jaded, bitter sound. “Of course. A castle for the new king.”
I wasn’t sure what to tell him. The horrors I’d witnessed last night were still fresh in my mind, but my belly was empty, so I couldn’t throw up again.
“Why are you down here? We aren’t friends. You hardly know me.” Nestore was not being unkind, just curious.
I tensed. He had a point. Before tonight, we had never talked.
I gave a slight shrug. “You were kind to me last night, though you didn’t have to be.
You were in a position of power over me, and I learned early that usually people who are kind to you need to be.
People who are above you in the hierarchy are never kind, at least not the people I had met before, but you were… ”
Did I make sense? I had no intention of mentioning that I had a little crush on him, and it definitely wasn’t why I had risked my father’s wrath.
“Do you feel guilty because your father did all this?”
I paused. Did I? “Maybe. But I didn’t know.”
He nodded. “I believe you. And you don’t have to feel responsible for me.”
“But I do.”
“And I’m fucking glad about it if I’m being honest.”
I smiled at his bluntness.
Nestore pushed to his feet and came toward the bars, then gripped them. His gaze implored me to help him. “I need to escape from here, Amelia. Your father will kill me. He’ll torture me. My only chance is to get out.”
My throat corded up. “I don’t know how. I don’t have the keys, and nobody will hand them to me. My father is still in the hospital, so I’m being left to my own devices.”
“My former bodyguard, Eduardo, has the keys. If you could find him and grab them from him…”