7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Nico left for the city. Leaving me all alone in this big house. Leaving me without consummating our marriage. Leaving me wanting. Craving his touch. Needing his affection.
Steam curls around me as I sink down into my bubble bath, wishing he were here.
That we hadn’t been interrupted right when things were getting good.
I’ve had no word from him. Only another reminder not to trust his brother before he took off.
There’s been no calls from my parents or any news on Lynette.
Did Father keep his word? Did he welcome them home with open arms?
Does my sister have any regrets? Does she even care that I took her place?
Highly doubtful. I don’t know why I even care at this point. What’s done is done.
I think about Nico in the city, wondering if he’s with other women.
Ones with experience. Women who can fulfill all his desires.
I sink further into the deep clawfoot tub, wanting to feel weightless.
My dark hair sticks to my skin like the tangled vines covering the garden wall.
I’m restless. Anxious. Constantly on edge.
It’s only when I’m with Nico that I feel safe.
I know how ironic that sounds considering what everyone says about him. That he murdered Catherine.
Unable to relax, I pull the plug from the drain. The water makes a strangled sound as it moves through the old creaky pipes. I step onto the rug, wrapping a towel around myself. I glimpse my reflection in the large ornate mirror that hangs over the pedestal sink.
Something moves behind me in the mirror.
A scream bubbles in my throat, but when I turn around, there’s nothing there, and the sound about to leave my mouth dies on my tongue.
I turn back to the mirror, hating how easily my mind plays tricks on me.
Especially in this place. The house feels alive.
It’s unsettling, and I’m wishing Nico had taken me with him.
I stare at my wide-eyed reflection, afraid it’s going to jump out and strangle me. The energy in the air buzzes around me like an electric current. I hurry through the motions preparing for bed but have no doubt of sleep eluding me tonight.
“ Don’t trust Marco ,” Nico’s warning sounds in my head. “ Stay away from the east tower .”
Did Marco have something to do with what happened there? With Catherine? Did he kill Nico’s wife? I need answers. I brush my teeth hurriedly and run a comb through my wet hair, failing to do much about the tangled mess.
Stepping back into my bedroom, I find my warmest pajamas and a pair of slippers.
The hallway is quiet and chilly. The only sound is that of the wind howling outside. I don’t want to risk being caught snooping in the east tower again, but the library isn’t off limits.
I walk quietly, pausing when the floor creaks. The whispers swirl around me. I still can’t make out what they are saying, if they are saying anything it all. They sound like static. Like an out-of-range radio frequency. I ignore the pull as they try to lead me to the east tower.
I make it to the library without passing a living soul.
A shiver oozes down my spine as I run my fingers along the spines of the books on the nearest shelf.
I ignore them and go straight for Nico’s desk.
I don’t know what I’m looking for, but there must be something here to give me more insight into the man I’ve married.
Rats. The drawers are locked. I feel around under the middle drawer for a key.
Bingo. I slide the magnetic cover back, and the key falls into my awaiting palm.
The first drawer holds nothing other than some financial records for one of his offshore accounts.
I already knew Nico was loaded, but seeing those numbers is jarring.
He has more money than God.
I close the door carefully to leave his papers how I found them.
There are some contracts. Lease agreements. Shipping details.
But the folder that captures my attention is the one containing surveillance photos of Marco meeting with Frankie.
There’s no notes. Nothing telling me why they were together or why Nico has these photographs.
The whispers start up again. I glance around the room, wondering if Catherine’s ghost is hiding behind one of the shelves.
Is it her eyes I feel on me? I put the folder back in place.
In the last drawer, I find a picture frame lying face down.
I flip it over, and it’s her. Catherine.
She’s sitting on the bench in the garden. The one near her grave.
She was beautiful. Long curly dark hair. Skin smooth and fair as porcelain. She’s dressed in a red dress similar to the one I wore to dinner. In the background, there’s a man out of frame. I can’t make out his face, but I think it’s Marco based on his height and hair color.
“This was Catherine’s favorite room,” a male voice says.
I glance up to find Marco leaning against the doorway watching me. How long has he been standing there? “Were the two of you close?”
He shrugs. “You could say that.”
“You must miss her,” I say, slipping the frame under a stack of papers.
“Nico left her alone too much.” He pulls out a lighter and flicks the flame off and on, repeating the motion.
Does he know I went to the east Ttower? Did he start the fire?
“They fought a lot. She grew lonely. Started spending time with me. Nico grew jealous…,” he trails off.
I know what he’s implying. That he had an affair with Catherine or Nico suspected it. Killed her in a rage of passion. Is he warning the same will happen to me?
“I should get to bed.”
“My brother is a busy man with a wandering eye and a jealous streak. You should be careful. I’d hate for something to happen to you. Beautiful women disappear around him.”
“Thanks for the warning, brother.”
“You ever get lonely, sister? My room is on the second floor.” He reads my disgusted expression and chuckles.
He’s testing me. Seeing if I’m loyal to Nico.
“Noted.” I try to slip past him, but he grabs me by the wrist, jerking me against his body. I pull away and shove against his chest.
“You’re a feisty little thing.”
“Never put your hands on me again.”
“That’s what they all say at first,” he calls out after me as I make a run for my room.
I lock the door behind me and sink down to the floor. Is Marco implying that he was having an affair with Catherine? Were they in love? I have more questions than I started with.
The shadows offer no answers. My heartbeat is the only measure of time. The beats thump in my ears, nearly covering the sound of those dreaded whispers that mock me and leave me restless. I think back to my last moments with Nico before he left for the city.
He pressed his mouth to mine — hot, deliberate, and demanding. He kissed me as though he didn’t want to let me go or as though he was afraid it was for the last time. But which one?
I won’t find any solace or the answers I seek sitting here on the floor.
I retreat to the bed, hiding under my blankets.
Closing my eyes, I pray for sleep. Eventually, the house goes quiet, and my eyes flutter on the verge of entering dreamland.
Then I hear it tickling the back of my mind.
A soft thread of a whisper. I hold my breath, as though doing so will help me hear better.
I imagine the humming sound belongs to Catherine. Well, her ghost.
Is she watching me? Is she trying to warn me or scare me?
I awaken alone and freezing. At some point, I must have kicked all my covers to the floor.
I suffered another night of fitful sleep.
My legs ache with restlessness. Nico’s absence is pressing down on me heavily in a way I wasn’t expecting.
I wasn’t prepared to miss his presence this greatly.
Our marriage is meant to be a transaction.
Two names signed on the appropriate lines.
All the boxes checked. We both come from a world founded on tradition.
One weighted by expectations, duty, and honor. Is it wrong to want my husband to want me? Is it wrong to crave his touch? To dream of his kiss?
I’m terrified of not being able to compete with his love for Catherine and her ghost that haunts these halls. Haunts me.
I stare at the empty side of the bed where he’s never going to sleep next to me. Sadness for something I never knew I wanted overwhelms me.
Downstairs, everyone is in a bustle, moving furniture, putting up Halloween-inspired decorations. I spot the young maid from the east tower. “What’s going on?”
Her brows knit together. She gives me a curious smirk. I think she likes that she knows this house and my husband better than I do. “Every year Mr. Moretti throws a masquerade party.”
I thank her, though the words burn in my throat like acid. She scurries off to continue her duties. I meander through the workers and head to the kitchen in search of coffee.
Marco leans against the center island devouring a muffin. The sight of him turns my stomach. He smiles his slimy smile at me. “Rough night? You look like shit. You know what’s good for the skin?”
I roll my eyes at him and grab a mug.
“Semen. You say the word, I’ll hook you up.”
“You’re a pig.”
“Oink. Oink, baby.” He grabs his crotch.
What would Nico do if he knew his brother was treating me this way? Would he care? Does he know already?
I should splash my hot coffee in his face. That would teach him. I imagine the satisfaction I’d feel hearing him scream.
“There you are,” my husband says as he enters the kitchen.
He looks good. The first few buttons of his white-collared shirt are undone, exposing his chest tattoo. It’s sexy.
“You’re back.”
He moves in front of me and presses his lips to my forehead. “Miss me?”
“Of course. You didn’t tell me there’s a party.”
“That’s because you distracted me.” He grins, giving my hip a squeeze.
I take a chance and wrap my arms around his midsection. I inhale his scent. That woodsy yet spicy smell that is now my favorite.
“Did Marco behave while I was gone?” he murmurs into my hair, and I tense up. I glance at Marco, and I know he’s listening to see how I’ll handle this.
“Nothing I can’t handle, but you on the other hand…” I slide a hand up his neck, growing braver with every passing second. Up on my toes, I press my lips to his. “You’re on my naughty list, but there are ways you can make it up to me.”
“Tonight,” he says, his gaze smoldering with promises of what’s to come. “I bought you this while I was away, Fiore Mio.” He pulls a necklace from his pocket. The minute I saw this, I thought of you.”
I turn brushing my hair from my neck as he clasps the silver chain with a diamond-encrusted flower pendant dangling in the middle.
“Thank you.”
“Get used to it,” Marco inserts himself into our moment. “My brother leaves a lot but always returns with a gift.”
“I do love presents.”
“Good. Because I also bought you a new dress for the party.”
“When is this party?”
“Halloween night.”
“Hope you love a good fright, sister. The staff transforms the manor into a true haunted house.”
This house doesn’t need help with ghosts. It has its own. I don’t voice the thought. The last thing I want is for Nico to think I’m nuts and hear voices that aren’t there.
“Can’t wait. I was beginning to think you were all work and no play.” I take a sip of my coffee.
“Nico doesn’t know the meaning of the word fun,” Marco says.
“Are you still here?” I ask, and Nico rewards me with a full belly laugh.
“Tell you what. Today I’m all yours.”
“Really?”
“Why don’t I take you somewhere? Get you out of this house for a bit.”
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his face. Getting away from here is exactly what I need.
Marco’s lips screw up as though he ate something sour. The way he watches Nico I can't tell if he hates him or hero worships him.
“Where are you taking me?” I question as I get into the passenger side of my husband’s cherry red McLaren 720 Spider.
“It’s a surprise.”
“You have zero idea,” I tease.
He folds into the driver side and revs the engine before peeling out of the driveway.