Chapter Twenty-Seven #3
I watched as the tiger tossed my father’s skeleton through the air.
He took it into the lake with him, then dove under the surface only to emerge with it in his snout again.
After all the pain my father had caused my mother and me while he’d been alive, it was good to see him bring some joy to this tiger in death.
As with Achille’s remains, my men had strict instructions to dump whatever remained of his body into the ocean for it to be swept away and eaten by fish. Nobody would be mourning him.
I felt lighter now that my mother had found peace in her own grave.
When I returned to the upper part of the garden later in the morning, I found Amelia on a bench, eyes closed, her face angled toward the sunny sky, expression peaceful.
It was one I never saw inside the manor, and I finally made the decision I had been too weak for years now.
I didn’t move closer to my wife, not wanting to disturb her moment of peace.
Instead, I called Niccolo.
“Nestore, what can I do for you? Do you need to slaughter more Bratva assholes?”
“I need you to find a demolition company for me.”
“To demolish what exactly?”
“Romano Manor.”
Silence.
“Umm. Repeat that.”
“I want to tear down Romano Manor and fill the basement with concrete.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “And then what?”
“Then Amelia and I will build a new palace to call our home, but first, the old place needs to go.” It would be even more splendid, created by our wishes. The men who came before me would have no say in our future.
I heard the click click of him typing on his laptop in the background. “All right. Are you sure?”
“I am,” I said firmly, my eyes on Amelia. She didn’t notice me yet. Maybe she was asleep. Was this the only place where nightmares didn’t haunt her?
“And where will you and Amelia live while things go down?”
I hadn’t thought about it. I just knew I needed to do this. For Amelia.
And even for me.
“We can live in the pool house.”
Nobody had used it in many years. I never went into the pool, even if I kept it running, and the staff kept cleaning the pool house and changing the linens. Everything was prepared for guests that we would never welcome.
“Well, I’m not sure about that, but I’ll give the construction company we usually work with a call. They’ll be able to help us.”
“I want the house gone by the end of the week.”
“That’s in five days.”
I hung up and moved toward Amelia. She opened her eyes when I sat beside her. “You look at peace.”
“I am, at this moment, in this place, and I feel peaceful.” She took my hand and smiled.
I brought her knuckles to my lips and kissed them. “I’ll tear down the manor. Next week, it’ll be gone, and we’ll have room to build a home without history.”
Amelia’s expression twisted with shock. “Are you serious?”
I nodded with a small smile.
She threw her arms around my neck and sobbed. I held her as she cried. “Are you happy?”
“I am. That’s why I’m crying.”
I never understood the concept of happy tears. Eventually, Amelia pulled back, her face tearstained and eyes teary. “I can’t believe it. Where will we live?”
“In a palace of our own making.”
She sank her teeth into her lower lip and looked back toward the manor. Her smile widened. The look on her face was worth it. She and I would build a new palace worthy of our love.
Two days later, four demolition balls surrounded the manor.
Staff and our bodyguards temporarily used containers for cooking and to find rest. The pool house, the security house near the gate, and the animal enclosures were the only buildings that would remain on the premises.
Even the fighting pit would be torn away.
“Where will fights take place now?” Amelia asked as she leaned against me to survey the upcoming destruction.
“I’ll build a bigger and better amphitheater just on the outskirts of LA. It’ll be spectacular. You and I will get a loge with splendid thrones so the audience in the ranks and at home on their screens can fear and admire us from afar.”
She let out a laugh, then she sank her teeth into her lower lip, her gaze darting up to the bone crown atop my head. “If you create a crown for me, promise me it won’t be from bone.”
I smirked and touched her cheek. “Black onyx would suit you beautifully. The red of your hair will look like flames against it.”
“That sounds beautiful.” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Why do you keep the bones of your enemies close? In your crown and as trophies on your walls? Why not banish them from your life for good?”
“I never understood why people thought bones were a disturbing sight. Once cleaned, the material is beautiful, which is why humans used to create art from animal bones.”
“Maybe because we prefer to bury the dead.”
“I prefer to remind myself of every enemy I killed. That way, when the nightmares become too real, I’ll know they are just the past and not my present.”
She nodded as if she could accept that explanation. Her eyes were drawn back to the mansion just as the four wrecking balls swung toward the walls. The resulting bang let birds in the surrounding trees and rose maze shoot into the sky. Clouds of dust rose as the walls crumbled.
We watched for several hours as the place that had been our prison for many years, and in many ways, was torn down piece by piece.
I held Amelia in my arms as she cried more happy tears, and I felt lighter with every part of the house that disappeared.
Amelia had shown me photos of houses that she liked. She wanted big windows, a bedroom full of light. I wanted a place worthy of the name Romano Manor, a castle that would awe people from afar but unsettle them enough to stay away.
Five days later, like I had wanted, nothing of Romano Manor remained but a huge plain area.
“Time to rebuild our home,” I told Amelia as we headed up the slope toward the barren land from the pool house where we’d spent the past few nights.
In the following six weeks, construction workers built the house Amelia and I envisioned.
A castle reminiscent of old Scottish fortresses made from basalt, granite, and slate.
Two huge turrets towered on both sides of the highest floor.
Windows allowed an all-around look from our bedroom in one of those turrets.
While we based our design on Scottish castles, we changed the window sizes so more light would penetrate the halls and rooms. Amelia and I watched every day as our new home became a reality.
When we could enter our house for the first time, my pulse pounded in my veins like it rarely did anymore.
I took Amelia’s hand as I led her through the wide wooden double door into a light-flooded entrance hall.
Tall arched windows flanked the entrance door.
The entrance hall was two stories tall with a glass dome that allowed sunshine to spill down.
An open staircase led up to a wide gallery where my trophies were displayed.
Gold, dark wood, and purple velvet dominated the insides.
The staff kitchen and the bodyguard quarters were at the very back in a separate wing.
A door separated that part of the house from ours, so Amelia and I would be alone in our home most of the time.
Amelia and I descended the winding staircase, arriving at a dressing room on the first landing, then moved up farther to the huge circular bedroom in the turret.
The walls were made of windows, allowing sunlight to stream in.
A claw-footed copper bathtub perched beneath one of those windows.
Our round bed stood in the center of the room.
The purple comforter contrasted with the black wood of the bed frame and flooring.
Behind the bed, a circular shower made entirely of glass allowed the person inside to look out toward the sky or the Hollywood Hills.
Amelia stepped up to the window beside the bathtub, which faced the gardens.
My eyes drifted toward the place where the rose maze used to be. It had been torn away. Only one wall behind my mother’s gravestone and two rose arches remained. “It feels like being in the sky,” Amelia said with a pensive smile.
I nodded. The turret was the perfect place for our bedroom, above everyone else, and with a spectacular view.
Amelia beamed up at me. “I feel free. Really free, for the first time in…” She shook her head, her brows pulling together. “In forever.”
I wrapped my arms around her and put my chin down on the top of her head with a small smile. “When I’m here with you, I sense peace. In the outside world, the darkness always spills forth, and I’m the raging monster everyone fears, but in our home, I’m more than a beast.”
She touched my hand. “This will be our safe place, the place where you can be vulnerable and we can be us.”
“Us.”
I led her down to the light-flooded living room with the majestic French windows. Her eyes darted to the piano on the right. Her brows furrowed as she peered up at me.
“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. I know you never enjoyed it, but…”
“I remember you telling me in the basement that you hoped to hear me play the piano one day.”
I didn’t say anything. She was right, though. She licked her lips, then tugged me toward the piano. She sat on the purple leather bench but didn’t start playing. Her hands rested in her lap. She patted the spot beside her. I sank onto the bench.
Amelia placed her fingers on the keys, then closed her eyes. “It’s been a while for me.”
She started playing “Clair de lune.” I released a deep breath and relaxed. I remembered hating this song whenever my teacher forced me to play it, but listening to Amelia play it, I decided it was beautiful.
“You can join me if you want,” Amelia whispered as she glanced at me, but she never stopped playing.
I stared at the keys, then lifted my hands. The notes I played ruined the beautiful melody. I never had trouble handling a knife, but my fingers, scarred by years of torture, weren’t nimble enough to match Amelia’s skill. I jerked my hands back with a scowl. “I’m not good. I ruined the song.”
Amelia froze. “You didn’t ruin anything.” She reached for one of my hands and traced my scars with her fingertips. “I love your hands. I love how they give me pleasure, how they wipe away my tears, how they touch me as if I were the most precious thing in the world.”
“You are,” I murmured.
Amelia kissed my palm, then she returned her fingers to the keys and continued to play. “Do you want me to continue?”
“Yes.”
She held my gaze as her fingers danced over the keys. The rage and despair over my scarred hands vanished as I listened to her play. Eventually, she stopped. I cupped her cheeks and kissed her. “I imagined this moment, but my imagination failed to capture the full scope of your beauty.”