Chapter Five
A HAND COVERED HER mouth, and her fears swung from one end to another in lightning speed.
One moment she was preparing herself to catch Dario cheating on her.
The next moment she was preparing herself to do some kung fu, tai chi, or whatever because she had just been caught by someone who was presumably bad—
“Don’t make a sound.”
Kendra would have crashed to the ground if not for Dario wrapping around her waist as he slowly guided her to walk backwards in the dark.
Oh, thank God.
He hadn’t been cheating on her.
Rather, Dario just had his hand over her mouth because...
Why did he not want them to make a sound again?
She couldn’t remember if he said anything else after that.
All she knew was that he wasn’t cheating on her, and oh thank You!
Thank You so, so much.
Thank You!
It was only Kendra’s third time to pray her entire life, but this time...
This time, she truly believed because now that reality was starting to sink in, Kendra was also starting to appreciate how things could have ended differently. Violently. Even...murderously.
She could have well lost her life five seconds ago if it had been someone else. Someone bad. Or someone who had a grudge against the La Roccas. But instead...
She was safe and alive, and that...that was proof enough for Kendra. From now on, she was going to believe in Him with her whole heart. It was all because of Him that it was her husband and not someone else who was guiding her in the dark, and oh?
The bookcase wasn’t a bookcase, but instead it was a secret door? That led to a secret room that was...whoa!
Lights blazed into life as soon as the bookcase-slash-door swung shut silently behind them, and she could only look around in a daze, unable to believe that this was real life.
There were screens all over one wall, mounted together almost like puzzle pieces of a board, and even though Dario didn’t look bothered at all as he started tapping on the keyboard—
This reminded her so much of The Purge—
No, wait, don’t think that!
It didn’t end well for Ethan Hawke in that movie, and what if she was the Ethan Hawke in this world?
No, she had to think of something better, something that had more survivors like...like...oh, oh, right, Panic Room!
And wait, there was another good movie, but with zombies—
"I love it when you look like you're having the most interesting conversation with yourself, cara."
Aargh.
Kendra did her best to look innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Her husband only smiled, and dear, oh dear!
She knew now wasn’t the right time to think about anything but her survival, but Dario’s calmness was contagious, and more importantly than that, the way that smile was playing over his lips...
It just made her toes curl so hard because she knew.
Now that she had been married to him for over a week, she had of course taken the time to secretly gobble up anything and everything that was written about him, and that was why she knew Dario La Rocca had never been photographed smiling.
But here he was.
Smiling.
At her.
His wife.
Dario looked surprised when she suddenly raised herself on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
"What was that for?"
"A secret."
He shook his head. "You never fail to surprise me."
"Good."
He laughed. "You look like a proud little kitten."
"Meow."
The word simply slipped out of her, but the moment it did, and the moment she saw his gaze gleam—
"Ah, cara.”
Why did it feel like she had just done something really, really bad?
“I'll have to reward you for that later."
"I'm good!" Because she totally was, with how he was saying reward like it was a punishment. The kind of punishment that involved his hands and his mouth and approximately zero clothing, and she needed to stop thinking about this immediately.
"But I insist."
She hastily looked for a way to change the subject and turned to the screens and—
Kendra almost gasped when she saw something move on one of the feeds.
That was...the bedroom.
Why was there someone else in the penthouse when it should only have been the two of them—
"You've finally noticed."
Dario's voice had changed. Not the tone. The temperature. Like someone had opened a window in winter and the cold was coming from inside him.
He tapped the zoom key. Once. Twice. Three times.
And Kendra's blood went cold.
Thelma.
In their bedroom.
And she was rummaging through Kendra's clothes.
Again.
It was happening all over again.
Why?
The word covered everything and nothing. Why the clothes. Why their bedroom. Why here, why now, why again, always again—
"Do you trust me, cara?"
Her heart. It was breaking into pieces all over again.
But this time...
This time...
Kendra had already decided.
And that's how she heard herself whisper, "Yes."
For one moment, Dario simply gazed at her.
She swallowed hard. "I trust you."
He yanked her close, his mouth crushing hers in a kiss that tasted like a vow, and when he lifted his head, every shattered piece of her heart had been put back together.
"There's something I need you to watch."
Her husband gently sat her down in front of the screens before he started typing again and they went a full hour back.
The lobby feed came first, and Kendra felt sick to her stomach at the way Thelma was just so confident in the way she pretended to be her, and even crying about losing her key and that was how she gained access to the penthouse apartment.
“They knew it wasn’t her,” Dario told her.
What? Then why—
“But we let her in because we wanted to see what she was up to.”
Dario played the living room feed next, and that was when she saw her twin start hiding cameras all over the penthouse. Why was Thelma doing these things?
She watched Thelma find the breaker panel—
Ah.
So that was why the power was out.
Kendra could feel her heart breaking all over again as her sister sauntered back to the bedroom she shared with Dario.
Her husband turned away when Thelma started to undress, but all she could do was stare. It was the worst kind of déja vu, watching Thelma slip into one of her nightgowns before smoothing it down.
I don’t understand.
Kendra only realized she was crying when her husband wiped her tears.
"I'm sorry," she managed. "I'm just so stupid. I don't know why she keeps doing this. And I just...I just can't make myself hate her and I don't want to, I'm sorry."
"You do not have anything to apologize for, cara."
"So you like me stupid?"
"Not stupid, but kind."
She was sure he still meant stupid, but it was adorable how her husband had changed, considering he had pretty much called her an idiot the first time they met.
"What do you want us to do about your sister?"
Afterward, Dario gave instructions to Bonnie, and when Bonnie walked into the bedroom feed, Kendra watched her twin's face change in real time.
The cheerful woman who ate too much pasta and wanted to scout the library was gone.
In her place was the Bonnie from the car, the one with the closed-door face, and Thelma—Thelma who was never rattled, Thelma who had smiled from Porter's bed like she owned it—actually stumbled getting out of the sheets.
It was Kendra's first time seeing her twin clumsy.
Thelma's face lost all its color when Bonnie pulled up the footage on a tablet and held it in front of her.
Every second. The lobby. The breaker. The cameras.
The nightgown. All of it, timestamped and recorded, playing back at her like a mirror that showed what you actually looked like instead of what you wanted to see.
Bonnie handed Thelma a contract. Dario's legal team had drafted it. (He apparently had one working around the clock, as a "precaution." Kendra was starting to understand that her husband's definition of "precaution" and the rest of the world's weren’t even in the same language.)
Thelma's hands shook as she signed.
In minutes, it was over. Thelma had agreed never to come within three miles of Kendra, consented to enter a private rehab program for counseling, and in return, no charges would be pressed.
Kendra watched Bonnie escort her twin to the elevator on the lobby feed.
Thelma walked quickly, head down, arms wrapped around herself, and for one terrible moment Kendra felt sorry for her—and then felt stupid for feeling sorry, and then felt guilty for calling herself stupid when Dario had just called her kind, and the whole emotional tangle was so classically Kendra that she almost laughed.
Almost.
"I asked her why," Bonnie revealed when she returned, almost reluctantly, handing the signed contract to Dario. "What her reason was for doing this."
"And did she...did she answer you?"
Bonnie glanced at Dario. Dario gave a small nod.
"She said she just hated you for being you."
And there it was.
Her whole life, she had wondered what she'd done, what was wrong with her, what she could change or fix or be to make Thelma stop.
And the answer was nothing. There was nothing.
There had never been anything. It wasn't about what Kendra did.
It was about what Kendra was. And that was a thing Thelma couldn't take, couldn't copy, couldn't try on in front of a mirror and adjust the straps.
It was, somehow, the most freeing thing anyone had ever told her.
Her husband's expression had turned grim, and she touched his arm quickly. "It's fine. I'm really okay."
And it was true.
Because maybe...
Maybe this meant it was over.
Kendra started thinking out loud.
Maybe therapy would help?
Kendra missed seeing Bonnie and Dario wince upon hearing this.
Leopards didn't change their spots overnight, yes. Kendra knew that. But the keyword was overnight. Anything was possible given enough time. People changed. People grew. Even Thelma could—
When she turned to her companions, looking at them expectantly, Bonnie suddenly recalled having something urgent to attend to downstairs, and excused herself with a speed that was impressive even for a woman trained in six forms of hand-to-hand combat.
And then Dario...
Oh!
He kissed her, sudden and deep, and swept her up in his arms, and as he made love to her that night...
It was then she knew.
Her heart had finally healed.
And it belonged to Dario La Rocca.