Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sienna
The Present
Examining myself in the mirror, I do a little twirl. My goth/Victorian wedding/funeral gown is complete, and all that’s left is some cleanup work on the veil.
“Will you be wearing that to my funeral?” Fabien stops in the doorway.
“That assumes I’d attend your funeral.” I brace my spine, hating the gnawing feeling of guilt trying to claw its way into my heart.
Fabien cocks his head. “You wouldn’t cry for me, piccola volpe?”
“I’ve shed enough tears for you, Fabien,” I say, feeling the heavy truth of those words in my bones.
“In that case, no more tears for me,” he says softly, adjusting his tie. It’s crooked, but my feet remain rooted firmly in place. “I have some business I need to handle this evening, so don’t expect me home for dinner.”
“You’ve made it clear what you think of my food.” And me.
“Still love your food, and the woman who made it. Always.” He winks at me, sauntering out.
A part of me wants to chase after him, to make sure he knows he’s walking into a trap. But what kind of villain would I be if I took the easy route?
I fall to the floor and do something I claimed I wouldn’t, and that’s shed a tear for him.
For me.
For our son.
For what might have been, if we were different.
If I were different, not so broken and hollow and empty.
My hand falls to my empty womb, and it all comes out in violent sobs until there’s nothing left except rawness and regret.
And isn’t that what a tragedy is?
Collapsed on the hardwood, I don’t know how long I lay there, but something warm and slobbery touches my cheek, and I open my eyes to find Lacey. “What am I doing? A shit job at being the villain.”
I scramble from the floor and grab my phone, sending Fabien a message.
You’re walking into a trap, you know that, right?
Aww, my wife is worried about me. That’s sweet.
Fabien, I’m serious!
I know, baby, but thanks for the heads up. When I get this Kirksey business settled, you and I are going to have a proper funeral for our son.
Afraid that I wouldn’t be able to speak the next words, I’m grateful we’re texting.
Fabien Oliver Calvani, Jr. I’d already named him in my mind.
A proper funeral for Fabien Oliver Calvani, Jr.
Just when I think I couldn’t possibly cry another tear, my eyes become bleary.
I never stopped loving you.
Maybe it’s because I’m tired of being the villain. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of being a coward. My thumbs hover over my reply, and before I can chicken out, I hit send.
I never stopped loving you. So where does that leave us?
Don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. Together.
Nodding to the phone, I toss it down and carefully change out of my school project back into my work clothes.
With sketch pad and pencil in hand, I get to work on our son’s funeral gown. A symbolic gesture; I don’t have possession of his tiny remains, but I want this gown buried with his memory.
And maybe, just maybe, I can finally bury the past and allow myself to be happy.
Fabien
The present
My wife loves me. I grin like an idiot.
“And you’re sure about this plan, boss?” Saint asks as we position the dummies inside the back of all the SUVS in my fleet. “Mrs. Calvani is going to be livid.”
A tortured groan escapes me. And just when I’ve finally pried open Sienna’s heart. Damn, I’d best be getting some kneepads for my impending groveling. “She will be, but one problem at a time.”
Getting the scene situated, I climb into the middle of the back row, with Saint driving our vehicle. We make our way across the city to the sketchy industrial warehouse district, perfect for this little play to unfold.
The warehouse door opens, and we pull at the vehicles inside, with Kirksey’s crew watching from across the street in an abandoned warehouse.
Everyone hustles to the underground panic room, where I close and lock the bunker door. Kirksey’s proven his MO is bombs, and this baby will survive a nuclear fallout.
We wait. And wait. And wait.
I’m a patient man, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.
Pulling up the security feed from the house, I find Sienna and Lacey in the work studio, and panic floods my body; my wife was supposed to be in the panic room. Switching to the exterior camera feed, it’s hard to see over the mist of crimson spotting my vision.
Jermaine’s opening the back gate, and a crew of Kirksey’s men swarms inside the property.
“This was a setup! We need to get back to the house!”
“Boss, wait, are you sure?” Saint attempts to halt me as I shove him out of the way, opening the door.
I call Sienna as I sprint to the vehicle, and she answers on the third ring. “Get to the panic room now! Run!”
She swallows loudly. “Can’t.”
Sienna
The present
“End the call, and slide your phone across the floor to me,” Kirksey commands with his gun drawn.
The panic in Fabien’s voice lingers after I’ve ended the call, doing as Kirksey commands.
He squats down and retrieves my phone, cracking it with an ominous crunch. “Nice studio,” he muses, taking a look around. He strolls over to my bust, his grubby fingers touching the lace veil, and I dig my nails into my palm.
“Thanks, but I’m not giving studio tours at this time.” My tone is light, but my heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest.
That gets a chuckle out of him.
“Why are you here instead of the warehouse?” Acting confused, my forehead bunches. “I gave you Fabien on a silver platter.”
“Here’s the thing, doll. When you stopped answering my texts, I was worried you had a change of heart. When Jermaine confirmed you’d switched over to team Calvani, I made a course correction.”
Jermaine! He was the one who told me it was safe to leave the panic room. That’s what I get for halfway trusting anyone from my old life.
“It wasn’t a bad plan, Fabien faking his own death; it’s just that my plan is better,” he says smugly.
My brain has a difficult time processing his words as I stall for time. “What is it you want from me? I fulfilled my end of the deal.”
“You didn’t think I was going to let my new madam slip through my fingers?” Kirksey tsks.
“I didn’t accept your offer,” I remind him.
“Wasn’t an offer, doll,” he informs me. “Spoils of war. You’re my new right-hand girl, and Al is going to take her place as my new wife.”
“Alessandra?” My eyebrows lift skyhigh. Despite the gun in his hand, I chide, “She’s too young for you.”
“Hey now, I’m not a complete ruthless bastard. Gonna wait till her eighteenth birthday next week.”
“Does she know about this plan?” I pray that Alessandra is on lockdown and doesn’t.
“She will, as soon I collect my new bride when she returns from her overnight field trip.”
“Because she’s still in high school. Knew you were a former pimp, but I didn’t realize you were a pedo too,” I inform him coolly.
He crosses the room, digging the barrel of his gun into my temple. “Didn’t expect so much judgment from a whore,” he spits.
The sound of gunfire in the courtyard has me jumping, and Kirksey’s now distracted on his phone. “What’s happening?” he barks.
I take my chance, sprinting out of the work studio, only to run into Jermaine in the hallway. His gun is raised at me as I skitter to a stop. “Sorry, Ms. Sienna,” he says apologetically. “You were the only Calvani to ever show me kindness.”
“And this is how you replay that kindness?” I gulp.
“A Calvani is still a Calvani.” He clicks the saftey off.
Behind him, Lacey rounds the corner with teeth bared, and a smile stretches my face.
“Ain’t the time to gloat, Mrs. Calvani,” he warns me.
Oh but it is. “Attack!”
Lacey charges, and Jermaine turns in time for my dog to knock him to the ground. His gun goes flying across the floor as she begins mauling his face, and I sprint to pick up the weapon.
Kirksey comes charging into the hallway, and I don’t hesitate, pointing the gun and pulling the heavy trigger until I hear the click, and I’m knocked back against the wall.
Time stills, my ears ringing as if I’m underwater.
Kirksey appears completely shocked as crimson seeps through the hole in his chest. “You fucking shot me.”
He aims his gun at me, and there’s another pop, and my left hand falls to my chest. I lift it, expecting blood, but there’s none.
Kirksey’s brain and blood is spattered against the opposite wall, his limp body crumbling to the floor as Fabien appears, his gun smoking.
“Lacey, leave it!” my husband firmly calls, but the dog gives Jermaine’s lifeless body one last shake before releasing her teeth from his neck.
She comes to heel, her face and fur covered in blood.
“Good girl,” Fabien coos before turning his attention to me.
“Sienna,” he says gently, holstering his gun. “Talk to me.”
My brain processes Kirksey’s words from earlier, and I raise the gun in my hand, pointing the barrel at my husband. “You were going to let me think that you’d died?”
Saint appears, his eyes going wide. “The house is secured. I’ve called in a team to help with clean up, and NOPD is aware of a reported fireworks incident in the area. And Mrs. Calvani, I did advise against this plan,” he informs me.
“Stay out of this, Clark,” I snap at him.
“My thoughts exactly,” Fabien grits.
Saint holds up his hands, disappearing.
“Piccola volpe, let me explain.” Fabien dares to take a step closer.
“You were going to let me think that you died? Yes or no.” My hand remains steady.
“Yes, but—”
“Not another step,” I warn him.
“It was the only way to flush Kirksey out. Obviously, I didn’t know Jermaine was a rat.” Fabien spits on my former assistant’s corpse.
“You could’ve let me in on your plan. I would’ve played the role of grieving widow, but you didn’t trust me,” I hurl at him.
“Baby, do you blame me?”
“Yes!” Whether it’s fair or not, I’ve always blamed Fabien.
“And I’ll gladly shoulder the blame,” he says, having attuned my thoughts. “You wanted revenge. I was going to let you have it, even if it was temporary.”
My tongue darts out, wetting my lips. “I could take it now.”
“You could,” he agrees, his blue eyes unwavering. “If you kill me, will you finally be happy? Because that’s what you deserve,” he says softly. “What you’ve always deserved.”
Killing Fabien would not make me happy, and isn’t that inconvenient?
With a growl, I toss the gun on Jermaine’s corpse and storm out of the hallway and into my work studio. “If my school project is damaged, there’s going to be hell to pay!”