Chapter 19
Lucy
Damiano’s face goes on a journey from resigned to angry to shell-shocked. I can’t hear Mom, and Damiano gives brief, one-word answers. Finally, he hangs up the call and lifts his eyes to mine, and they’re etched with trouble and confusion. “Dad had a heart attack. He’s in surgery.”
Damiano’s words break over me like a freezing cold wave, blasting away all my post-orgasm pleasure and warmth.
I sit up, unable to comprehend what I’m hearing.
I’ve been picturing Dad ordering our assassinations, not fighting for his life.
He didn’t look well in church, and he didn’t do or say anything as I denounced him and Mom or when Damiano murdered my fiancé.
I put that down to shock. When he walked in on me and Damiano in the bathroom, he clutched his chest and crumpled in on himself.
That was a warning he’s not as strong as he seems.
There’s a storm of guilt and confusion in my heart as I lift my eyes to Damiano. “We did this, didn’t we? I did this.”
Damiano shoves his phone in his pocket, and says fiercely, “Andreas did this when he hurt you, and they kept it from me. Dad was having warning signs, and he should have gone to his doctor. You are not to blame, my love.”
“Are we allowed to see him?”
He presses his lips together in a grim line. “Mom gave me the name of the hospital. I’ll go. Dad’s men might have orders to hurt you.”
“You think it’s better I stay here by myself?” I ask doubtfully.
Damiano glances at the shoddy lock on the door. “You’re right. It’s better if we stay together. I don’t want you out of my sight.”
“I wish I had my gun,” I mutter, reaching for my underwear and pulling it on. “I couldn’t think of a way to holster it under my wedding dress.”
“Where is it now?”
“At home in my closet.”
Damiano nods decisively. “Then we’ll go there, pick it up, and get you some clothes at the same time. Dad’s still in surgery.”
My heart skips a beat. No don’t worry, Lucy, I’ll protect us both. No it’s dangerous for you to be armed. Just let’s get your gun. Simple. Equal.
I wrap my arms around Damiano and kiss him. “Do you know how much I love you?”
He smiles and kisses me back. “I hope it’s a whole fucking lot, because that’s how much I love you.”
When we arrive at the hospital, me dressed in jeans and a sweater and carrying my gun in my purse, and Damiano wearing fresh black clothes, Dad’s still in surgery.
Mom and Ariana are seated in a small, bleak waiting room that’s empty apart from them.
The harsh neon light turns Mom’s mascara-streaked face pale and greenish.
She and Ariana are still wearing the dresses they put on this morning for the wedding, and our sister’s gown is crumpled.
Mom’s been dabbing at her tears with a tissue, and as soon as she sees us, she gets to her feet and clenches her fist. Completely ignoring me, she says shrilly to Damiano, “I had to deal with this all on my own, Damiano. Where were you?”
All on her own? Ariana is right there.
Damiano explains that we came as soon as we could, while I wonder why it’s just the two of them in this room.
“Cristiano isn’t here with you?” I ask Ariana tentatively, and she shakes her head. “Has he at least called to ask how you are? How Dad is?”
Again she shakes her head.
I know a Barone just killed a Montoni, but that’s not Ariana’s fault. I thought after Cristiano decided not to kill Damiano, he would have checked in on his bride. Montoni men are the worst.
While I’m feeling sorry for Ariana, Mom’s watching me and Damiano through narrowed eyes. She seems particularly interested in what we’re wearing.
“I know what you two were doing while your father is fighting for his life,” she accuses. “You were screwing, weren’t you? You both make me sick.”
I fight to keep my chin raised, even though a little voice is saying in the back of my mind that all this is my fault. I should have realized Dad isn’t as strong as he seems, and I shouldn’t have put him through public humiliation today.
“At least Lucy has the decency to look ashamed of herself.”
I take Damiano’s hand and squeeze it. “I’m not ashamed of loving Damiano. I just wish Dad was all right. I never wanted any of us to get hurt.”
“You have lost the right to address him as your father after what you’ve done, you little whore.”
“Don’t you dare call Lucy names,” Damiano seethes.
“Mom, stop it,” Ariana says in a small voice, gazing down into her lap at her clenched hands.
But Mom isn’t anywhere near done. It’s plain that she’s been dying for us to get here just so she could lose it at us. “Carlucci and I invited two demon children into our family. I wish I could turn back the clock. I’d leave you both in that shabby little foster home.”
“Mom, stop,” Ariana exclaims louder, both hands clenched on her bridesmaid dress.
She stares up at Mom with pain and confusion in her eyes.
“Dad’s heart condition is not their fault.
What was Damiano supposed to do today? Andreas tried to rape Lucy.
Of course he had to kill him. Dad should have been right by his side. ”
I’m surprised to hear my sister defending us.
Mom gives an angry, dismissive shake of her head. “It was all a silly mistake. Lucy is so dramatic. She tells lies. She shouldn’t have been parading around her bedroom in her bridal lingerie.”
Tears well up in Ariana’s eyes as she realizes the truth. “You knew about what Andreas tried to do to Lucy, didn’t you? And you and Dad still wanted her to marry him? If Cristiano tries to rape me, will you still insist I marry him?”
“Don Cristiano would never do that to a good girl like you.”
Ariana stares at Mom in total disbelief.
“Sure, because Cristiano loves me so much. You’re marrying me to a complete stranger just because he’s the most powerful man in Malus, apart from Dad.
You don’t know the first thing about him, and you didn’t know the first thing about Andreas either.
When you found out, you did nothing to protect Lucy.
I thought the Barones were all about family, but we’re not.
” She puts the back of her hand to her face as she struggles not to sob.
Ariana is scared, I realize.
Absolutely terrified of the man she has to marry. My heart goes out to her, and I wish that she and I had found some common ground over the years. I think I’m starting to like my older sister, and I wish there was some way I could save her from marrying Don Cristiano.
Ariana glances between me and Damiano. “I think you’re both messed up, but at least you have someone who loves you and will protect you no matter what.”
I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly, coming to a decision. “Ariana, Damiano and I aren’t related. We met when I was ten, and his father and sister were killed. I’m sorry we lied to you.”
Damiano looks at me sharply, but what’s the point in hiding it anymore?
Mom’s head snaps up. Ariana stares at me wide-eyed, and then my sister starts to laugh.
Shaky, near-hysterical laughter. Tears fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks.
“So you’re free to marry the man you love, and he loves you back?
Great. That’s just great. I thought we were all going to suffer together, but it’s just me who’s going to be miserable and trapped for the rest of my life. ”
Mom rushes toward me with a scream and raises her hand. Before she can strike me, Damiano seizes her shoulders and holds her back.
“Mom, don’t you dare lay a finger on her.”
“You lying little bitch,” Mom screams at me, her face turning from red to purple, and a vein bulges in her forehead. She struggles against Damiano to get to me. “You heinous, spiteful little cow. You’re not related to him? We never needed to adopt you? You disgusting little parasite.”
Her words are daggers that are meant to wound me. As I look at Mom, turned ugly by her rage, I’m relieved I don’t have to pretend to love her anymore.
I wait for her to draw a breath between screams, and tell her, “Since I was ten years old, I’ve been haunted by the knowledge that I’m the unwanted Barone, and I was terrified that someone would find out my secret. I’m glad you don’t think I’m part of your family. You can go to hell.”
Mom reels back, as if it’s preposterous that anyone wouldn’t clamor to be a Barone. “How dare you? You have ruined our lives. When your father is back on his feet, he is going to…going to…”
Mom falters and falls silent as a man dressed in surgical scrubs comes into the room wearing a somber expression.
Mom hurries over to him. “My husband?”
The surgeon’s expression is sympathetic as he looks at her, though he probably heard our screaming from the other side of the hospital. “He’s alive, but barely. He’s asking for Damiano. You only have a few minutes.”