CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ROME
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I’d been up for hours, staring at these fucking flowers, my thoughts chaotic. Night had fallen, and still, I sat here, drink in hand, trying to drown my sorrows in liquor. It wasn’t working. The sorrows were still there.
It was after midnight now, and I was tipsy as hell, but I couldn’t sleep. I'd tried. I'd even showered and gotten in bed, hoping exhaustion would eventually defeat my sorrow and give me a few hours of respite. It hadn't.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Blossom standing behind the register, calmly telling me she had a boyfriend. Then the image would change, and I'd see her standing beside those red tulips, smiling up at me like I was the only man in the world.
Neither version of her would leave me the fuck alone.
Giving up on sleep, I'd grabbed me a bottle of liquor, wandered back to the living room, and slumped down onto the couch. The bottle of whiskey was now half full. I reached for it again, uncapped it, and poured myself another drink.
Leaning back against the couch cushion, I lifted the glass to my lips and took a slow sip. The burn barely registered anymore. My gaze drifted toward the center of the table. The red tulips were still sitting exactly where I'd left them.
I hadn't touched them. I couldn't. They were supposed to represent everything we'd been building together. Undying love. Loyalty. Trust. I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swallow of whiskey.
"What a fucking joke."
Love. Loyalty. Trust.
She didn’t even know what those words meant. And my dumb ass had believed every word that came out of her mouth while she'd stood beside those flowers, gently brushing her fingertips over the petals as she explained what they symbolized.
I'd watched her eyes light up while she talked. I'd smiled like a damn fool, thinking we were sharing a moment that actually meant something to both of us. Now I couldn't stop wondering whether she'd been lying to me even then.
Maybe tulips didn’t even represent love at all. When it came to this woman, I didn’t know what was real and what was fake. All I knew was that my feelings for her were true and I hated that.
I hated what I was feeling. I hated that she was the woman I’d given my heart to. I hated that I’d fallen in love with the woman responsible for my cousin’s kidnapping. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to force that thought away.
I wasn’t ready to believe that Blossom had something to do with Marcel being taken. While my instincts told me she was Juliet, my heart told me she wouldn’t hurt someone for no reason at all.
I just couldn’t see her being that kind of person. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees as I stared at the tulips again.
"Please," I muttered into the empty house.
I wasn't even sure who I was talking to anymore. God. The universe. Anybody willing to listen.
“Please don’t let Tony find anything that points to her being tied to Ettori Zucco. Please let me be wrong. Let this all be a coincidence.”
I rubbed a hand over my face before glancing toward my phone lying beside the whiskey bottle. I picked it up and checked it. No missed calls. No messages. Nothing from Tony yet. I set it back down.
Less than a minute later, I picked it up again. Still nothing. The waiting was slowly driving me out of my fucking mind. Every minute that passed gave my thoughts more time to wander into places I didn't want them going.
I took another sip of my drink. Then another. The whiskey wasn't helping. Neither was the silence. I downed the rest of the liquid, then slammed my glass onto the table. Sleep. I should try to go to sleep again.
Just as I was about to stand up, my phone rang. My heart lurched as my gaze dropped to the screen. Tony's name flashed across it. For a second, I just stared at it, afraid to answer. Afraid to learn the truth.
There would be no going back once the truth was out. Whatever he told me next would either give me peace or completely destroy what little hope I’d had left. I drew in a slow breath before swiping my thumb across the screen.
"I’m listening," I said instead of greeting him.
"Sorry for calling so late. But you told me to call as soon as I had something.”
I closed my eyes and massaged my temple, a headache forming in the center of my skull.
“I’m listening,” I said again.
“I finished looking into the financial side of Blossom and her floral shop," he told me.
I rose to my feet, unable to sit down for this. I paced toward the windows overlooking the water, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to escape my chest.
"What did you find?" I asked.
"There aren't any transactions between Italy and Blossom Brooks."
“Go on,” I said, hope blooming within me.
"There aren't any transactions between Italy and Blossoms and Vines either," Tony continued. "I didn't find any connections between her, her shop, and any Italian businesses. I also looked for suspicious companies that could be tied to either Blossom or her flower shop. I found nothing."
The silence of my beach house no longer felt so suffocating. I slowly closed my eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I knew it. I fucking knew it. Blossom wasn’t the type of woman who’d hurt an innocent person just for profit.
Every ounce of tension I'd been carrying around since reading that report yesterday eased from my shoulders. I'd let myself believe the worst. I'd allowed a few paragraphs from Tony's report to make me question everything I thought I knew about the woman I loved.
She wasn't tied to Italy. She wasn't tied to Marcel. She was innocent. Whatever had her nervous about admitting who she was, it wasn’t tied to my family.
"Looks like she's clean," Tony said.
The breath I'd been holding finally escaped my lungs.
"Thanks," I told him.
"No problem."
Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. My gaze drifted toward the red tulips sitting on the center table. She'd told me they represented undying love. Maybe she'd been telling the truth after all.
“I know you were looking for ties to the Marcel incident. There are no monetary ties. Do you need me to look into anything else?” Tony asked.
Hell no. I was happy with these results. That’s what my heart said. But my brain was already churning, needing to know if there were any stones I’d left unturned.
“Give me a sec,” I told him as I paced in front of the window.
An intel hub had gathered intel on my family, which led to Marcel being kidnapped. They’d been smart enough to cover their tracks. The only suspect I’d found after all this time had conveniently died just as info about him being tied to the incident appeared.
That felt like a cover-up by the real culprit. But it was something an intel hub could pull off. It was definitely something Juliet With Curves could pull off. Maybe I was looking in the wrong direction.
Money was easy to hide. If Blossom really ran an intelligence network, she wouldn't be stupid enough to have payments wired into her personal account or the flower shop's business account.
She was too smart for that. So why was I looking for money? My gaze remained fixed on the tulips. An intel hub didn't just collect payments. They collected information. And that required legwork most of the time. I was looking in the wrong place for evidence.
"Tony."
"Yeah?"
I walked toward the center table, stopping beside the tulips. I stared down at them for a long moment before speaking again.
"Forget the money. I'm looking in the wrong place. What I really need to know is whether Blossom Brooks, her employees, or anyone connected to that flower shop crossed paths with Marcel before he disappeared."
“To get accurate intel, I’ll need more info on Marcel. Where was he taken from? Where does he live? What are some of the places he liked to visit? What dates do you want me to investigate? Get me that information, and I'll see what I can find."
"I’ll have it to you by lunch tomorrow,” I drawled, that cold feeling of dread settling over me again.
“Okay. I’ll start looking into her staff, their photos, their cars and license plates, their homes, and their social media to find everything I can on them.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
“No problem.”
After ending the call, I lowered my phone and continued staring at the tulips. For a second there, hope had started to bloom again. For a second, I’d let myself believe everything would work out fine.
And now I was back to wondering if I was going to have to end the first woman I’d ever truly loved. I tossed my phone onto the couch and sat down beside it. I started to reach for my glass again.
My hand hovered over it before moving over to the flowers. I plucked one of the tulips from the vase. Holding it between my fingers, I slowly ran my thumb across one of its petals.
"So soft," I whispered. “So easily broken,” I drawled as I rubbed the petal until it began to fall apart. “You’ve lied to me about so much. How can I ever trust you? Do you even want my trust? Do you even want me? Or did you use me?” I whispered as pieces of the petal fell onto my lap and the floor. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.
“But if you... if you’re the reason Marcel... ”
I closed my eyes. I’d wait. I’d wait until I had real evidence before thinking about that. Letting the flower fall to the floor, I threw back the whiskey in one swallow, welcoming the burn this time.
I set my glass down on the table, then lay down on the couch. The liquor was starting to take effect now. I closed my eyes, not wanting to stare at those damn flowers any longer. But even with my eyes closed, I could still see her.
Blossom's smile was the last thing I saw in my mind before exhaustion finally claimed me. Then I entered dreamland, where she awaited me, tormenting me there, pretending to love me. There was nowhere I could go to escape her.
I had a feeling the only way to truly escape her was to rip my heart out of my chest. Because that’s where she lived. And as long as it was beating, it would always beat for Blossom Brooks. My Juliet.