“He left you a plot of land. Your father always knew you would follow in his footsteps, and he planned the perfect place to build something of your own.”
I noticed the subtle clenching of his jaw, a slight movement that didn’t escape my observation. The way his hand tugged on his messy locks. Silence hung like a held breath as he weighed up whether to add more.
“And? What else?” I pressed.
“You mentioned something when I was holding you. My mom’s name.”
I wasn’t ready and didn’t have time to mask my shock. Adrenaline surged inside my veins with a force that made me dizzy. My mouth went slack.
“Rosetta,” I gulped.
Romeo didn’t press, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door. I cleared my throat. This time, it was me hesitating whether to speak. I’d done nothing with the name Lanton had dropped with such venom. Matteo had taken chunks out of Donato territory in her name as revenge. But what if it had all been a lie? What if someone had made sure Matteo thought the Orazio rivals had taken Rosetta?
“You asked me if I killed Lanton,” I dropped my voice to a harsh whisper. His eyebrow kicked up in interest. “I overheard your conversation with Bruno. He asked for your help to avenge Diane. Paolo filled me in on the other rumors about him, the blondes he favored, and what he did to them. I didn’t do it for you but for them. It was…sloppier than I intended, but that’s not important. I taunted him a little at his end, and he mentioned your mom’s name.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, waiting for Romeo to say something, anything. I could hear him grinding his teeth. Fury threaded through every sharp, frozen line of his body.
“I don’t know if he was lashing out, one last parting shot. But she was blonde, wasn’t she?”
A low growl escaped from his throat, but he quickly suppressed it and turned his back to me. I noticed a slight tremor in his broad shoulders. He didn’t acknowledge my confession.
“Focus on getting better, and I will take you to your land at the first opportunity.”
His hand clenched around the doorknob, and I spoke without thinking.
“Thank you, Romeo.” The words were hard to get past the knot in my throat. “Thank you for looking after me.”
His shoulders bunched up around his ears, and I could see the effort it took for him to stay composed.
“You don’t need to thank me, wife. I will always look after you.”
The door snicked closed before I could respond, leaving my stomach swirling with confused emotions. Telling him about Lanton and his mom lifted a weight off my chest. It must have been crushing me, letting her name slip while I was feeling unwell. But I knew I needed to get better. My father had chosen a specific plot of land, and it was calling out to me.
20
Dad’s office had become cluttered since I was here last. An empty whiskey glass teetered on a stack of manila folders, a ring of condensation seeping out. I pinned my focus on it, thankful for my years of masking emotion. Still, I struggled to find the words to reply. Slow shock snagged my tongue. My dad narrowed his eyes and repeated himself. The light stubble over his jaw made him look rough, and it suited him despite how out of character it was. He wasn’t even wearing a tie, the collar of his shirt askew.
“It seems inconceivable,” I edged carefully around the accusation he’d made.
“I can’t put aside my misgivings any longer. Lanton was in the height of health. I refuse to believe he’s dead because of bad shellfish.”
His lips twisted as he thumped his fist on the table, and the papers trembled on their unsteady tower.
“His wife was sick–”
My dad slashed his hand, narrowing his eyes into furious slits. He’d been chain smoking in the office, and it reeked of ingrained, stale ash.
“That little bitch wouldn’t know up from down. If she wasn’t such an airhead, I might think she was involved too.”
An uncomfortable dampness of sweat clung to my shirt, a result of my nerves. It was up to me to steer this conversation away from this train of thought before it went too far.
“It’s a leap to assume Paolo is The Gardener.”
I parceled out air from my lungs, attempting to calm the thunder of my pulse. It was a siren in my ears.
“I know this puts you in an awkward position, Romeo. But your wife will never know it was you who killed her cousin.”
I fought the urge to dig my nails into my thighs. The bite of pain would’ve cut through the rising panic, but it would also alert my dad that his theory disturbed me more than I let on.
