22. Renzo
G iulia and I showered together, and even though I wanted her again, I knew she was exhausted. She hadn’t napped for long, and after having sex again, twice within the hour, I took pity on her and let her rest.
It felt like a rare treasure to have her in my bed and know that she’d be there when I woke up and reached out for her.
The first time I’d taken her, I wasn’t surprised that she’d run off. I’d fucked her so unexpectedly that night. Now, though, things had changed. Our tenuous relationship had evolved into something more, and I was confident that she’d linger.
Besides, she couldn’t run away this time. Not easily. We’d driven up the coast for three hours to reach that Romano property where we’d found Cecilia on the brink of death.
I tortured myself by watching her sleep for a little longer. If I could be honest with myself, I’d admit that I was smitten. I would confess that I was utterly besotted with this woman.
My enemy. And at the same time, my other half.
As she rested, trusting me to be near her while she was at her most vulnerable state of unconsciousness, I thought back to what we’d learned earlier. I couldn’t understand why Cecilia had verbally lashed out at Giulia when she approached.
Sometimes, death did funny things to people. I’d killed a few to know that in that moment before the ultimate end, strange things could be blurted without any censure, sometimes without any filter of making sense, either.
When I thought more on how Cecilia confessed to carrying someone’s illegitimate child, I considered Giulia with that description too.
I’d fucked her three times now, three occasions of my flooding her with my cum. If she were to become pregnant with my child, it would be an illegitimate baby as well. Born out of wedlock. Conceived before she’d been married.
I wouldn’t let her have my child with someone else. Over my dead body would another man raise my daughter or son. More than that, I hated to think of Giulia attempting to raise a baby on her own, without my help or resources, if she should try to run away from her engagement to Nickolas.
Knowing she could be knocked up still didn’t prevent me from wanting her again. Being this close to her sleeping in one of my spare shirts, I was tempted to wake her up with my cock or mouth.
I would never stop wanting her.
And that wasn’t fair to either of us. I intended to keep her—forever, and if we were to have a child together sooner than later, I would rather have done it properly, with the protection of her being a Bernardi.
I huffed a quiet laugh as I got out of bed without waking her. It was still early, just after dawn, and I wanted to entertain my thoughts apart from her and let her sleep in.
An Acardi becoming a Bernardi.
It sounded ludicrous because of what we’d been told all our lives. Both of us were trained to loathe each other, but now that we were together, it seemed so stupid, a waste of energy and anger.
I left her sleeping and retrieved my phone. My call to Dean ended four hours ago, before I woke Giulia from her nap. Since then, we’d fucked, showered, eaten, and fucked again. It might have been more like five hours when I considered it, and I had no doubts that Dean would have some information for me.
I’d instructed him to let me contact him, versus the other way around. I figured it would take him a while to have any answers for me.
I stood on the porch outside, looking over the railing to watch the moonlight reflect on the waves at sea.
Dean answered quickly, and he confirmed that he had news.
“It wasn’t terribly difficult to get some intel,” he explained, “because the tests were already requested.”
I had no doubts about his ability to secure a hacker to find any electronic medical tests. This capo, this right-hand man, was invaluable and damned skilled at anything I asked of him.
“Requested by whom?” I asked.
“Marcus Romano.”
I raised my brows. Huh. That at least proved that the old man knew his daughter was pregnant. “So he was aware that he was giving Luka a bride who wasn’t virginal.”
We weren’t often so archaic to have brides prove their virginity. Some Families still had a doctor or other delegate to perform a manual check that the women were virgins. Others had the habitual showing of the bloody sheets. More often, it was implied. A hymen could break from other means, and I bet many cases of virginity were lost when the woman pleasured herself. It was only when infidelity was rumored, when women were caught in the act of having sex before marriage, that it became such a big deal.
Or, like in Cecilia’s case, when she was confirmed to be carrying a baby before her wedding.
“Not only that,” Dean added, “but Marcus Romano paid to have these medical results hidden.”
“Damn.” That made me more suspicious. The Romanos were already shady as hell, but this was not a mere omission of truth. It was a deliberate coverup.
“So, yes, Marcus wanted to hide the fact that Cecilia was pregnant when she married Luka. His motivation for that is yet to be uncovered.”
I bet he won’t tell why, either. However, this could’ve been a bargaining chip Giovanni could have used against Marcus. I wouldn’t be marrying Cecelia. No one would. She was a corpse now. But if Giovanni knew about this baby, maybe he wouldn’t have entertained even the possibility of my marrying her.
“The test results also confirm that the baby is a boy.”
A son. It was a boy. I hadn’t told Dean yet that I’d found Cecilia dying at the place. Word would spread soon enough, and even though I trusted Dean, I didn’t need to complicate what the man focused on.
“And the father?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t have that information yet. The paternity testing has been ordered,” he confirmed. “But it’s not conclusive yet.”
“Dammit.”
“And I imagine that when that test is concluded, Marcus may want to erase evidence of it. I will keep my eyes open for it. The IT specialist I have tracking these documents and lab work orders will watch it closely, but in the meantime, no identity has been provided for the father.”
Hmm… I agreed with him. If Marcus wanted the father’s identity to remain a mystery, he had to have a damned good reason for it.
Maybe… I cringed at the first thought that entered my mind.
Maybe it’s his. It seemed so ridiculous, so far-fetched and out there, but once the thought hit me, I couldn’t ignore it.
Cecilia’s child might have been the result of incest. If Marcus—or Nickolas—fucked her, that’d be incest as a father-daughter or sister-brother incident. That would surely be something to cover up and hide. If Marcus or Nickolas fucked their own blood, then of course they’d have a motivation to cover it all up.
Then why offer her in marriage to Luka?
“As soon as the paternity test results are in, I will forward it to you via a text, if you’d like,” Dean offered.
“Yes. Please. I appreciate that. I feel that the identity of this man will be a critical development in figuring out who killed Luka.”
“I agree,” he said. “I think that this has to be a significant connection.”
But to Rocco Acardi too? And Isabella?
I sighed, wishing I had more information. I couldn’t explain why, but I felt like I was running out of time to figure this out.
Seeing Cecilia dying was a startling moment, but as hardened as I was to witnessing death, I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t stuck in a traumatic reaction to that woman dying, but it had served as a stark reminder of how short life could be.
How short the rest of my life could be, and I didn’t want to lose a second of it that I could share with Giulia. It was useless to wonder how or why we’d connected so quickly and deeply. We had, and there was no going back from it.
But time was also running out, it seemed, for the killer. Assuming that it had to be one person, the same person, they were changing up their speed. Luka was killed at his wedding, then by the time his funeral passed, Rocco was dead.
Cecilia was only killed today, and viciously, in a different manner. No poison was used on her and her unborn baby. Slashing at a person and murdering them with a knife was a much more personal means of killing. Passionate.
And it worried me that the killer was getting out of control. Whoever was picking off these prominent people in this criminal world was getting desperate and changing up their methods.
If that suggested more danger to us, to me or Giulia, I had to remain on guard and be even more alert.
She won’t be going home at all. Giulia didn’t realize it yet, but as soon as she woke in the morning, I’d need to explain it all.
I couldn’t, in good faith, take her back so she could live at the Acardi residence. I couldn’t lose her. She might trust that guard, but I didn’t. I especially couldn’t trust Isabella if she was so set on arranging Giulia to be with Nickolas.
Who might have fucked his sister. It seemed like a big conclusion to jump to, but I couldn’t ignore it now that it had entered my mind.
“This is all such a fucking mess,” I mumbled to myself as I headed back inside. I’d hung up with Dean several minutes ago, and I debated calling him back to just talk this out with him. To hear his opinions about all of it.
Sooner or later, I’d need to rely on him to help me with Giulia. She would remain with me. I made up my mind there. And I had to have some assistance in keeping her away from Giovanni.
Until he explains this stupid rivalry.
It would have to end with me and Giulia. We would have to start a new generation. The past could stay back there. I had to focus on the future I wanted.
I walked back into the master suite, ready to get into bed and hold her for the rest of the morning.
But she wasn’t there.
I narrowed my eyes, looking around the room and wondering how in the fuck she’d run off this far from home.
And why.
We were meant to stay together. She fought it more than I did, but I couldn’t blame her for that. All her life, she was trained to know she can’t change anything about what was expected of her. I had to do that. I had to step up and handle this demand for change and insist on our having a chance to stay together.
I ground my teeth, peeved that I would need to work harder to convince her.
When I stepped closer to the bed and spotted her earring, a small diamond stud, I grew worried. It wasn’t a clear sign of her struggling. The bedsheets were already tangled from having sex, but I tried to look at the room for any hint of a fight.
Did she run?
Or was she taken?
All I knew for a fact was that she wasn’t here.
And that was the only place where she belonged. With me.