19. Tatiana
TATIANA
I t had been days since I’d seen my husband. Almost a week since I remembered that night.
The memories filled every single second of the day since I awoke that morning. Konstantin should have told me. I gave him every chance to come clean and he hadn’t.
I felt played. Betrayed. Bitter.
My mood reflected the winter storm that raged outside. It had been snowing since the morning I woke up to Illias gone. As if he knew I’d be trapped with the memories and no way out of this place.
The air was chilly inside the castle. The wind whipped against the windows, a constant reminder that going outside in this weather was a bad idea. Not that I had anywhere to go but home.
The damn chip was still a mystery. So was the next clue.
“You hate being trapped inside, don’t you?” Isla's voice startled me.
We’d gotten to know each other well over the last week. There was nobody else to keep us company but the guards, and they had a clear order to keep their distance from us.
“I hate being cold and trapped inside,” I remarked dryly.
Thank fuck she was here. Otherwise, I’d have gone nuts alone. We’d binged all the seasons of Game of Thrones , The Originals , Emily in Paris . I hadn’t watched that much television in all my years of life put together.
But the part that irked me the most was not having my phone. I was a grown-ass woman and he’d get a piece of my mind when he returned. The. Worst. Honeymoon. Ever!
Isla’s phone pinged again and I found myself irritated even more. She and her friends were like a group chatting 24-7. Who even wanted to type that much?
“If y’all talk so much, why don’t you just move in together?” I grumbled, slightly bitter.
Isla gave me a sympathetic glance. She tried to break into Illias’ safe for me. Unsuccessfully. She wasn’t exactly the B and E type of girl. I still liked her.
“We shared dorms,” she explained. “We probably talk on the phone too much.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ignore me. I’m just cranky and miss my family.”
She looked at me with understanding.
“You could call them from my phone,” she suggested for the hundredth time this week.
I shook my head. I wouldn’t want my brothers tracing the phone and accidentally exposing Isla. “I don’t know their number by heart,” I muttered my excuse. It was a lie. I knew every fucking phone number my brothers ever had.
Her phone pinged again and she glanced at it. “Oh my gosh!”
Her exclamation piqued my curiosity. “What?”
“Remember the fashion show I told you about.” I nodded my head.
She raved about her friend’s designs so much that I blindly ordered two dozen outfits by her.
Isla swore her friend was amazing and her fashion would surpass Chanel one day.
It was a steep comment, but I couldn’t help but be influenced by Isla’s enthusiasm.
No matter how subjective it was. “Reina got the video. Now I can show you her designs and you can see you got a good product for your money.”
I chuckled. My sister-in-law’s enthusiasm was worth what I’d paid sight unseen already.
“Okay, show me,” I said, smiling. She scooted closer and put her phone screen between us. Our heads bent, she pressed play and the show started. It took the first model to strut half way down the runway and I knew Isla wasn’t lying. Her friend’s designs would be all the rage.
“Tell her I want to invest in her company,” I told her.
Isla’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
I nodded, my eyes on her screen. “Absolutely. These are stunning.”
The grin on Isla’s face was priceless. “Oh my gosh, just wait until I tell her. She’s going to die!”
“Don’t let her die,” I teased. “I want to make my money back first.”
The two of us giggled. Isla’s face beamed, her green eyes turned even lighter. Her eyes reflected her moods. We returned our attention to the video, then watched the rest of the fashion runway. Her friend even had designer clothes for children.
“So you were part of the band?” I asked curiously.
She shook her head. “No, we all went to the same school and had some connection to music.” I studied them on the screen.
They were good at it. Isla with the violin had the hair on my arms standing up.
Seeing her play it, her eyes half closed.
Like she forgot about everyone and everything in the room and the violin was her lover.
“This is Athena.” Isla pointed to the girl sitting on the screen. “Her mother is a famous opera singer. She insists on her becoming a singer too, but she’s not too keen on it. She prefers to write. This is Raven. She plays guitar but one day she’ll be a famous painter.”
I smiled. “Make sure I get one of her paintings before they blow up too.” Another excited squeal. “You’re like my dealer or something,” I mused.
She chuckled. “I’ll ask her to send me pictures of her paintings and you can have your pick.”
I tapped my chin pensively. “Maybe we can help her get some exposure. New Orleans has these wonderful venues where paintings are sold. I know a few people and we can see if they’ll host her work there.”
Isla’s eyes lit up like emeralds. “That would be so grand. Oh my gosh, you’re gonna hook us up, aren’t you?”
“Okay, you’re making me sound like a pimp.”
“A pimp needs a phone,” she noted. “We’re gonna have to do something about that.” Then a mischievous smile curved her lips. “Phoenix and Reina might be able to help. They’re the criminal minds in our group.”
I shook my head. “Well then, I’m glad we’re friends and you’re hooking me up with your criminal gang.” The two of us giggled. “Okay, back to this fabulous fashion show that you’ll invite me to next time. Who hosted it?”
She returned her attention to the screen.
“Enrico Marchetti.” Isla’s face turned bright red, her freckles more pronounced than ever and I stared at her in amazement. She knew Enrico Marchetti?
“You know him?”
“Mmm.” She swallowed, keeping her eyes on the screen. “Not really.” Oh, there was something she wasn’t telling me. Something big. Huge… if her blush was anything to go by.
I wouldn’t push it though. She’d tell me when she was ready. I returned my attention to the little group of friends she had. They seemed extremely close. You could tell. A shared glance and it was as if they knew what each one of them was thinking.
“Have you known each other very long?” I questioned her.
“High school and college,” she answered.
“How did you bond?” I couldn’t help the curiosity.
“Murder.” The word seemed to slip past her lips without thinking.
She immediately stiffened and I held my breath.
Murder per se didn’t shock me. I mean, hello.
Look at my brothers. Her gaze met mine. A mischievous smile played on her lips, but it didn’t match the panicked expression in her eyes. “Just joking.”
I didn’t think she was but decided not to push it. Her spine was so tense, it might break in half.
“Do you know where Marchetti lives?” I asked casually, keeping my posture relaxed and my eyes on the phone.
“In Paris, I guess,” she muttered.
“For some reason I guessed Italy,” I remarked. “He has a lot of luxury brands in Italy.”
Isla’s brows furrowed. “Hmm, it could be. Reina mentioned he owns half of Italy, but I assumed she was exaggerating.”
“Any chance you’d be able to find out his address?” If Illias refused to share details, then Marchetti would give me answers.
Isla shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. It’s not like I’ve been to his place.”
I stifled a snort. It didn’t even cross my mind that she was in his place until she made this comment. Now, I was fairly certain she had been to Marchetti’s place.
“Duh,” I replied, storing this for another day.
“Now tell me who the rest of the girls are? And how do you know Enrico Marchetti?” Her cheeks reddened again.
Interesting. “He’s only one of the most desirable men in the world,” I remarked.
If Isla knew anything about him, I needed her to spill it.
The man was responsible for Adrian’s death, and I’d use every piece of information I could get on him.
She chuckled nervously. “Right! Like hello hot daddy, where have you been all my life?”
An awkward heartbeat, then I burst into a fit of giggles. I laughed so hard that my eyes stung with tears. Illias had no fucking idea who his sister was. I bet underneath that innocent face and shimmering emerald gaze, she was a downright freak.
Yes, I definitely liked her.
“You know, I’m happy you’re my sister-in-law,” I noted. “You and I will teach Illias a lesson.” She had no clue how literal I meant that.
She shook her head, smiling. “I have to keep my troublemaking on the down low. I get the sense you set the streets on fire as you drive down them.”
“What an adequate description of me and my family,” I joked. Isla was perceptive, more than her brother gave her credit for. “I’d bet Enrico Marchetti wasn’t far off the crazy mark.”
A heartbeat passed.
“Here. Let me show you who’s who so you know them when you meet my friends,” Isla remarked. The change of subject didn’t escape me, but I’d table Marchetti for now. Certain questions have to be asked delicately.
“Okay, tell me everything about your friends,” I agreed, then added softly. “And about Marchetti.” It was time to dig for information.
She let out a sigh as if she knew I wouldn’t let it go.
“Okay, this is Reina,” she started explaining, pointing to the pretty blonde with wild curly hair.
“Her sister is at the piano,” Isla continued.
Every so often the view was obstructed by another model wearing Reina’s designs.
My eyes followed her finger. The girl with dark brown curly hair played the piano, a serene smile on her face and with a face that was almost identical to her sisters.
“Phoenix is incredible at playing the piano. Reina is amazing too, but she loves her fashion more.”
“I thought you said Reina’s sister is deaf,” I remarked curiously.
They all looked to be Isla’s age. About twenty-three or so. Except Reina. She seemed to be younger.