Chapter 20 Lena
LENA
I’m still wearing my wedding dress. It’s beautiful. I don’t know how Rem got it or when, but it’s long and elegant with an off-the-shoulder design and just enough flare in the skirt to make it properly fancy.
I play with the creamy satin fabric as I snuggle into the heated passenger seat of Rem’s car, pulling the cashmere coat he gave me tight around my middle. It’s a beautiful dress, but not great for traveling.
I shouldn’t have rejected the change of clothes he offered me, but I was too numb after the wedding to care.
Rem keeps his eyes on the road, one powerful hand guiding the wheel as the other rests on a muscular thigh.
He’s swapped out his black suit for dark jeans, black sweater, and a black leather jacket.
A simple platinum wedding band marks the hand resting on his leg, matching the slimmer band on mine.
I can’t look at him without looking at that ring.
He’s gorgeous, my husband.
And now, after a ceremony that only took minutes, legally mine.
Remus Alessio Cosenza.
Which makes me Mrs. Lena Cosenza.
Never in a million years did I think I’d be married at the age of twenty-two. Definitely not to a man eleven years older than me. And absolutely not to a man who is a real-life member of the mob.
If I had any remaining doubt about that last part, it vanished when I saw the guards gathered in the foyer just before our ceremony began. All giant, all in black, all armed to the teeth. They were huddled together looking moody and lethal, literal poster boys for organized crime.
Stepping into Rem’s living room, I knew I was so deep into this world it didn’t make sense to try to run.
I wouldn’t even get out of the apartment, let alone out of the building.
As Rem walked toward me, too sexy for words in his three-piece suit, I didn’t want to run.
Everything about him screamed protection and pleasure and I accepted the simple bouquet of white calla lilies without protest.
No, I didn’t want to run.
But there’s one hell of a difference between not wanting to run and wanting to be the man’s wife, till death do us part.
“You’re quiet, piccolina. It’s still early. You should get some more rest.”
The dashboard clock blinks seven-fifteen a.m. In the span of two hours my life has flipped upside down, yet again. I can’t get my brain to wrap around everything that’s happened, especially not the part about marrying him.
That priest was real.
So were our witnesses.
The look Rem gave me when he repeated his vows—it was dark, deep, utterly possessive. That was real, too. Just thinking about it sends a shiver down my spine and makes my core clench. I’ve never felt so wanted in my life. Or so confused.
The sun is barely breaking over the horizon and we’ve got at least forty-five minutes until we reach Aunt Mable’s house.
I’m too tired, too emotionally wrung out to make heads or tails of what I’m feeling, but I don’t want to tell Rem that.
I don’t want him to know anything about the riot going on in my heart.
I’ve been vulnerable in front of him so many times and look where that’s landed me: married before dawn to a man I barely know who is just as capable of killing me as he is of saving me. And I walked myself down that aisle on my own two feet.
I don’t bother responding to his comment, instead staring out the window at the passing shadows and strips of weak daylight.
What feels like seconds later, I jerk awake.
We’re parked in my aunt’s driveway, Rem holding one of my hands in his lap.
He strokes his thumb over my skin as I blink away the sleep.
His expression is unreadable, but the weight of his touch is overwhelming.
He starts to say something, but I don’t want to talk.
I want out of this car, out of this confined space where it’s impossible to breathe without being hyper-aware of him.
“Let’s go.” I jerk free and get out, cursing as cold air swirls around my ankles. I head up the short path and front steps, not bothering to wait for Rem. Not that it matters. He’s only a step behind.
Police tape blocks the front door. The entire porch is charred, the front door black. The windows on either side have blown out, glass crunching beneath our feet.
Even outside, the smell of smoke and ash is so strong I start to cough.
“You don’t need to go in.” Rem puts his hands on my shoulders, whether to stop me or steady me I can’t tell.
“I do.” I pull away, feeling too fragile to be touched. “I owe it to my aunt, to my parents. I have to see if there’s anything inside that helps make sense of what happened.” My voice falters. “I need to do it for myself, too. I have to say goodbye, and this might be my only chance.”
“We’ll have a service for her, Lena. A chance for you to put your aunt to rest and say goodbye properly. As soon as the police release her body there’s nothing stopping us from celebrating your aunt’s life exactly the way you want.”
“Nothing,” I point out, “other than the fact that I might not be alive long enough to do it.”
Rem starts to protest, his protective instinct rearing its single-minded head, but I don’t wait to hear his assurances. Standing in front of the burnt-out shell of my aunt’s home, the truth is clearer than ever. It doesn’t matter how fast you run, death is guaranteed to catch up at some point.
I push open the front door. There’s no resistance, the lock busted or simply gone. “You said it’s safe for us to go inside?”
“Yes.” Rem reaches over my shoulder and lifts the police tape out of my way.
“The fire did a lot of damage, but the frame of the house was built of brick, so the walls are still sound according to the incident report. The roof is more of a problem, but all the reports I’ve read say it should hold for a while.
Certainly long enough for us to get in and out. ”
“Okay. Good.” I take a step across the threshold, but Rem stops me.
“I agreed to this trip because I understand why you need to be here Lena, but if any part of this starts to feel unsafe, we leave immediately.”
I nod, my thoughts already twisted around what must’ve been the last moments of Aunt Mable’s life.
The kitchen is gone, completely decimated by the fire that started there. Soot climbs the walls of the dining room and living room, the ceilings of that part of the house torn out by flames.
The whole place is freezing, snow drifts frosting over what’s left of my aunt’s furniture.
“It must’ve snowed recently.” It’s an idiotic statement given the state of things, but Rem doesn’t comment. He just hovers close, like he’s ready to pounce if a piece of roof attacks.
It only takes me a few seconds to realize searching this part of the house is pointless. Practically nothing is left and what did survive the fire is unrecognizable. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
Rem steps beside me, engulfing my hand in his. “Did you have a room here?”
I nod and point to the rear of the house.
Rem takes the lead, guiding me down a hallway I’ve only ever walked a handful of times.
Guilt at not visiting more often mixes with the grief of knowing I’ll never be able to visit again.
Tears sting my eyes and instead of letting them fall, I start talking, words spewing out like a gushing tap.
“Aunt Mable and I weren’t close. She wasn’t around much when I was a kid, and we didn’t have much in common.
I didn’t come here a lot. Not as often as I should’ve.
But after my parents died, she was so worried that I’d feel lost or alone that she converted the outside patio into a room for me.
The expense was ridiculously high for such a small room, but Mable said she had a little money stashed away and it only seemed right to use it for family.
She and I were each other’s only living relatives and, close or not, she wanted me to have space here.
Someplace I could always think of as home. ”
A home that’s now gone, along with the only person I knew cared for me, even if it was in the only way she could.
“I should’ve come here more,” I whisper, tongue heavy and too big for my mouth.
“I should’ve tried harder. Made an effort to get to know her better.
To actually be her family, instead of just visiting when I felt I had to.
” The tears I was trying so hard to hold back cascade over my lids, streaking down my face.
We’ve made it to my room. It smells of smoke and is covered ceiling to floor in a thick coat of ash, but the once-exterior brick wall helped stop the fire from doing as much damage to this space as the rest of the house.
Despite the evidence of the fire, it looks much as I remember.
That realization pulls a sob from my chest as loss knocks my knees out from under me.
Rem catches me before I hit the ground. He hugs me, his arms warm bands around my back, his hands firm as he tucks me into the safe haven of his body. He holds me close, with no chance to push away. No chance to run away from the feelings bombarding me or the comfort he’s so determined to give.
“I did everything wrong. I should’ve been here more, called her more.
” Grief is a heavy thing. My body sags. Rem pulls me closer.
I feel his lips against my hair, soft words mingled with even softer kisses.
“I don’t know what TV shows she liked or where she wanted to travel or what stories she could tell me about my mom from when they were little. ”
I wrap my arms around Rem’s neck, my fingers working in spasms as my fists open and close. As my heart catches over and over again at everything I didn’t know I was going to miss. “I should’ve been here,” I tell him through thick tears. “I should’ve been here when she died.”
“Then you would’ve died, Lena.” Rem’s arms tighten around me to the point of almost being painful. “You can’t say things like that, amorina, because you would’ve died too.”