39. SOPHIE
SOPHIE
I’ve been cooking since I left Vin with Matti and Tommy, prepping meals for Vin to eat over the next few days like I did last time. Anything to distract me from worrying about him or thinking too much about my second bombing in less than two years.
The kitchen smells like oranges as I clean, meticulous in every detail so that Lucia knows I appreciate her sharing her kitchen with me yet again. Pots scrubbed and stacked. Every surface wiped to a shine. Every dish washed, dried, and put back where I found it.
I’m almost done, everything in place, when the kitchen door opens. Jett and Darius walk in, and the blood drains from my face. They were kind enough this morning because they were under orders to get me here, but now their faces are stern.
I keep wiping the counter.
“Miss Bellamorte.” Jett is all business. “We need you to step out of the kitchen.”
I look up at him pleasantly. “I just need a few more minutes to finish the clean-up.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not possible.”
I continue wiping the counter. “Not possible? Of course it is. If you want to wait—”
Darius moves to the shelving unit along the far wall and starts pulling down canisters.
I toss the cloth on the counter and put my hands on my hips. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. He pulls the lid off the first canister, peers in, sets it aside then moves to the next.
“Excuse me.” I cross the kitchen and start to put the canisters back. “Those are Lucia’s. Please don’t—”
He dumps another canister onto the counter. Fine semolina dust rises in a small cloud.
“Hey.” I grab his shoulder and he steps back smoothly as Jett takes hold of my arm.
“Let go of me.” I keep my voice even. “Will someone please explain to me what is happening?”
Jett looks down at me. “We’re looking for hemlock.”
Oh.
A hot, crawling flush starts on my chest and works its way up my neck.
“I see,” I say.
Darius works his way systematically through the shelving unit, but even though I’m not fighting him anymore, Jett doesn’t let go of my arm.
“Can you let go, please?”
Jett shakes his head. “No.”
I try to yank out of his grasp, but he just holds me tighter.
“You should know that hemlock is hardly the only tool available to me if I wanted to cause harm to someone in this household,” I hiss. “Now let me go.”
“Mr. Demonio’s orders are that you be escorted to his room,” Jett says. “You’ll stay there until his medical procedure is finished, and he can join you.”
I stare at him. “I’m sorry?”
“His room. Until he is ready for you.”
“I heard what you said. I am not going to his room to wait for him like a—” I stop.
I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
All of my concern over his health evaporates in an instant.
If he’s able to give orders, especially ridiculous orders like this, he’s fine.
It’s time for me to go home. “I need to clean up the mess you made, and then I am going back to the city. Today.”
Just one day. Nothing more.
“Mr. Demonio’s instructions were very clear, miss.”
“His instructions were very—” I stop again because Darius plucks the bag of hemlock from Lucia’s hiding place and holds it up to show Jett.
I press my lips together. “That’s not yours, and it’s not mine. If I were you, I’d put it back.”
“Good thing you’re not me.” Darius sets it on the counter and continues overturning canisters and emptying cabinets.
“Listen, I don’t know what I have to do with any of this,” I say. “This is not my kitchen. I don’t live here. All of this is Lucia’s, so you’d probably get a lot farther if you talked to her. Why don’t you go get her?”
Jett and Darius exchange a look.
“About that,” Jett says carefully. “Lucia has been relocated to Tommy Demonio’s residence.”
I blink. “Tommy’s?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Why?”
A pause. “Mr. Vin Demonio’s orders.”
Something prickles at the back of my neck. “Why would Vin send Lucia to Tommy’s?”
Another pause, longer this time. Jett heaves a short sigh as he glances up at the ceiling like he hopes his lines are up there. “Mr. Demonio says,” he clears his throat, “this is your kitchen now.”
I have a hard time processing the words. He said a bunch of crazy stuff about us being together earlier, but to send Lucia away? A woman who has been the only positive fixture in his life since he was a child?
“My kitchen,” I repeat slowly.
“Yes, miss.”
“I don’t live here.”
Jett says nothing.
“I have a kitchen. It’s in my restaurant. In the city. Where I live.”
“Mr. Demonio says—”
“Jett, I understand that what Mr. Demonio says is of great importance to you, but to me, not so much. Does that make sense?”
Jett straightens slightly. “Mr. Demonio says you are the lady of the house.”
The kitchen is very quiet except for the low hum of the fan over the stove.
I look at Jett. Then Darius. Then the semolina dusted across Lucia’s counter.
“If I am the lady of the house,” I say slowly, “then you will let go of me, stop destroying my kitchen, and return everything to its proper location.”
Darius looks down at the dried bundle of hemlock.
“Except that,” I concede. “You can keep that.”
“After we finish the sweep,” Darius says. “Mr. Demonio was very specific.”
“In the meantime,” Jett adds, “I need to take you to your room.”
“It is not my room.”
“It is now,” he says.
I sigh deeply. “You know I’m not going anywhere with you, Jett.”
“Then you better run, Ms. Sophie.”