by M. L. Ray
Levi Zapata.
***
Seattle, Washington
Nook didn’t sleep much the night before they were due to fly to Venice. Her pain was making her feel sick, the baby was kicking up a storm and then there were the letters. Nasty, vicious threats about Martha but they were getting to her, especially now when she was about to leave her daughter in Martha’s care for four days.
Nook knew it was ridiculous and wildly unfair to Martha, who had been nothing but a rock to her and Tab, but…
Nook woke at three a.m. and sliding silently from under Knox’s arm, went to the bathroom and, burying her face in a towel, cried, letting all the tension release.
As she sobbed quietly, she didn’t even hear the bathroom door open and started as an arm was slid around her waist and her head was tucked gently into a shoulder. She knew from the size of the arm that it wasn’t her husband.
She wiped her eyes with the towel and looked up into Martha’s concerned face. “Sorry, hormones.”
Martha kissed her temple. “It’s not just hormones, though, is it?”
“What do you mean?” Nook made a show of dabbing her eyes again so she wouldn’t have to meet Martha’s gaze.
“Nook. I know about the letters.”
Nook frowned. Had Martha been going through her stuff? Martha smiled. “Nook, the person who has been sending them… they’ve been emailing me telling me what they were doing. I know when and what they say every time they send them.”
Nook shook her head. “Then why didn’t you say something?”
“Truth?”
“Yes, please.”
Martha sighed. “Because you didn’t say anything. Because you didn’t throw me out, or stop me from being with you or Tab, because you ignored them. You must, you must, have had pause and for that I wouldn’t and don’t blame you for even a second. If the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would have been able to show the same compassion.”
Nook felt guilty. “I kept them. In a shoe box in my closet.”
“Well, they’re evidence, aren’t they? Nook, please don’t upset yourself. I’m not one hundred percent certain on who it is but I have a pretty good idea.”
“Who?”
Martha’s face hardened. “Shawn’s cousin. A spoilt brat little heiress from Nantucket—Jocelyn. Vile creature and always was. She has nothing better to do than this.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?”
“I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. After what Shawn did to us, I vowed I would have nothing else to do with that family… except take their money for medical bills,” she added with a grin, “I have no problem with that.”
Nook gave a chuckle. “I don’t blame you. I’m sorry, Martha, I should have come to you when I got the first one.”
“Don’t worry about it. And, look, if you would rather Flynn look after Tab while you are in Venice…”
“No. Tab is so looking forward to her time alone with you and I trust you with her life. I do.”
Martha’s smile was shy and her face blushed pink. “Thank you, thank you for saying that. Now…” She got to her feet and helped Nook to hers. “Go get some sleep, for the love of God. Venice awaits.”
She helped Nook back to her bedroom then kissed her cheek. “I love you like a sister, Nook. All of you.”
“I love you too, Martha. You are my sister.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Nook slid into bed beside Knox. Her eyes felt sore and heavy but the weight in her chest had eased. In the morning, she would kiss her daughter goodbye for four days—and it was only four days—and head off for a wonderful trip to Italy. That was all that was going to happen. Nothing bad… nothing bad… Finally, her mind at ease, Nook fell asleep.
Martha, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. Every word she had said to Nook was true, every feeling, every belief she had was from her heart. Except… she had always known who they were from and why. The letters had knocked her confidence. No, it was more than her confidence, it was her belief that she deserved to be as happy as she was in this little family. The emails she had received from Jocelyn were so much more spiteful and hateful than the letters she had sent to Nook.
Jocelyn made no attempt to hide the fact that she was enjoying her torture of Martha.
You killed my cousin and I will never stop forcing you to remember it, you bitch.
When Martha tried to reply, the first time, her email came back undelivered. Jocelyn sent her threats and her poison from different accounts each time, no doubt helped by some tech-savvy lackey she’d probably fucked to get on her side. There was no way Jocelyn was intelligent enough to set that kind of thing up.
It had frustrated Martha at first but when she’d realized that Nook’s attitude to her hadn’t changed at all, despite the fact Martha knew the letters had been sent and received, Martha couldn’t quite believe it. Nook really did believe in her and when Nook had asked her to look after Tab while she and Knox were in Venice, Martha was astonished.
And grateful. Beyond grateful. She loved Tab like she was her own.
Now, laying in her bedroom—and it was her room, not just the guest room anymore, Martha stared at the ceiling marveling at how life had played out for her. So easily, she could be dead or in jail now, but because of the kindness of a woman who owed her nothing but had given her everything…… it was Martha’s turn to cry quietly now, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were the tears of someone who had finally found a home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabella Papini looked nervous, Levi thought as he raised a hand in greeting to her. She sat alone at a small table outside a café he’d never been to before. Isa had wanted to go somewhere a little off the normal, and so when he sat down and smiled at her, he mentioned the lack of people-traffic on the streets.
“It’s quiet and I like that. I come here when I need to think.” Her voice was a little shaky and Levi frowned.
“Are you okay, Isa?”
She shook her head. “No, not really, but I don’t know why. Levi… I’m sorry to jump right in without any preamble but may I talk to you in confidence?”
Levi nodded. “Of course.”
She studied him with cautious eyes. “You won’t tell anyone? Cat, Juno… Arturo?”
“Of course not, if that’s what you want. Isa… please, tell me what’s wrong?”
She took in a deep breath. “This might sound crazy… but I think… I think Ferdie might have been murdered.”
Levi’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
Isa’s eyes never left his face. “By Arturo.”
Levi was aware he was gaping at her and shut his mouth. The waiter came to take their coffee order then Levi sighed. “Isa… that’s a pretty serious allegation. And as far as I know, Arturo didn’t even know Federico.”
Isa pulled a crumpled photograph out of her pocket and handed it to him. With a shock, Levi saw the photograph of Arturo in the background, staring with undisguised hatred at a smiling Federico Martello.
Levi was speechless. He looked up at Isa’s pale face. “So?”
“So, he knew him, at your alma matar, Arturo knew Ferdie and has lied about it.”
Levi placed the photograph carefully on the table. “Isa, Ferdie died of an overdose.”
“He’d been clean for months. Months. We were… we were going to go public about our relationship. We were happy.” Her voice broke and a few tears escaped and Levi’s heart went out to her. “That last night, the night before he died, I got a phone call asking me to ask him about Lucy Graziano and the baby she was carrying when she died. So, I did. Ferdie got really upset about it. He told me she died, and that he was destroyed over her death. He denied he got her pregnant. Did you know about the pregnancy?”
Levi nodded. “I did, I’m sorry.”
Isa’s smile was humorless. “Except it couldn’t have been Federico’s. Feder
ico was infertile. When he was going through detox, he’d had a raft of tests and because we were thinking about starting a family, he’d been tested. He was infertile. It wasn’t his child.”
Levi somehow knew she was speaking the truth. “Then who…”
Isa tapped the photograph. “Arturo Corri. I think he got Lucy pregnant, then found out she was in love with Ferdie.”
A deep sense of dread was settling over Levi. “Isa, do you have any proof of any of this?”
She hesitated and shook her head. “I don’t. I really don’t, except gut instinct. I think… mio Dio, Levi, I don’t know anything except Ferdie was clean one day and dead of an overdose the next. I have this photograph. Arturo lied about knowing Ferdie and now he’s back in Venice and seemingly, he’s close to Juno. He’s also sleeping with my sister. I’m scared for her, and for Juno. It may not seem like it because I don’t know Juno that well, but I care for her like she’s my sister. She would have been my sister-in-law if Ferdie and I had married.”
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “And I know I must sound crazy. But something happened back then, back at the Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa. Levi, there’s something else.”
Levi’s eye widened. “What else?”
“Don’t ask me how I got hold of this but…” She pulled a sheet of paper from her bag. “It’s Lucy Graziano’s post mortem report. Do you see the pattern of injuries?”
Levi ran his eye over the report, wincing at the graphic description of Lucy Graziano’s stab wounds. “They said it was suicide.”
“You and I both know this isn’t a suicide. It’s a slaughter. Now, look at this…”
She slid the newspaper over to him. Fausta’s picture dominated the front page.
Prima Ballerina uccisa! La polizia caccia un selvaggio assassino! Levi could speak conversational Italian but he struggled a little with the dense text of the article. Isa traced a finger over a certain line.
“This reads: The victim was found with multiple stab wounds to the torso, including multiple abdominal wounds.” She looked up at Levi. “I will bet you any amount of money that it’s the same killer, the same pattern of wounds as on Lucy Graziano.”
An image flashed into Levi’s mind, a horrific image of Juno in her ballet leotard, stretched out on the stage of a theater, dead, her costume soaked in her blood. No. He pushed it away. He would not believe this so readily. He couldn’t.
Please God, no… no… let Isa be wrong about this…
He looked at her and saw only conviction in her eyes and felt his heart plummet. Not just because he didn’t want to believe that his friend Arturo could be a murderer.
But because, right now, at this very moment, his friend Arturo was alone, at a remote location, with the love of Levi’s life, and the woman, who less than twenty-four hours ago, had agreed to be his wife.
Juno.
***
Arturo looked at Juno now as she stood in front of him, her arms folded across her bare chest. “Juno… if you’re not comfortable with this…”
Juno shivered even though the air was warm on her bare skin. She was dressed just in her tutu and some flesh-colored underwear but she had yet to uncover her breasts. They had taken some test shots with her leotard on but she had known, coming here this morning, that they had planned to take some topless shots. She had thought she was ready.
But now, topless, in front of the man she had so nearly had sex with, and with Levi Zapata’s ring on her finger—not an engagement ring but the one he’d pulled from his pinky finger and slid onto her ring finger when she’d tearfully said yes to his proposal.
Last night had been so emotionally overwhelming that when today, she awakened to remember she would be naked in front of another man, it seemed wrong somehow.
But she had agreed to it, and it had been scheduled for weeks now. They were at an old abandoned de-sanctified church on the mainland. It had taken a couple of hours to drive there and although Arturo was friendly, Juno felt as if there were a tension between them and she didn’t understand it.
Arturo took a few shots now, moving around her as gracefully as a dancer. “Juno…”
“I’m ready.” Slowly she lowered her arms, then didn’t know what to do with them.
“Why don’t you move through a typical warm-up routine, then we can focus on specifics.”
So, she did, moving into first, second positions and onwards through her usual warm up. Her breasts, which had always been a little larger than a normal ballet dancer’s figure, moved with her and she was conscious of them wobbling around, unsupported. She couldn’t feel less sexy than she did right now.
“Juno, stop.” Arturo came to her. His intense green eyes were on hers. “Stop thinking about the fact you’re half-naked. Imagine you are dancing and your only audience is Levi.” He touched the ring on her left hand. “Congratulations, by the way.”
She blushed scarlet. “That, there, what an incredible color…” Arturo clicked off some shots as Juno dipped her head shyly. “Beautiful, Juno…”
She closed her eyes and imagined she was dancing for Levi. She ran through some basic steps then, as Arturo gently encouraged her, she did some leaps, some jetés before going up en-point and lifting her free leg behind her, curving it backwards and grasping it behind her head.
“Perfect, Juno, hold that as long as you can. God, the light is incredible on your skin…”
Juno held the pose for a few beats before releasing, breathing hard. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I got the shot. The shot. Take a look at this.”
Juno grabbed her sweatshirt gratefully and pulled it on as she walked to him. Arturo showed the shot he’d downloaded to his laptop. “Mio Dio, that’s me?”
Arturo laughed. “Who else?”
Juno could hardly believe she was looking at herself. The woman in the picture was both in light and shadow, the light of the sun playing across the curve of her belly, her navel deep and hollow in the smooth expanse of skin. Her breasts were in shadow, perfectly shaped, the nipples hard and erect. Her face, her eyes closed, her lips parted. It was an incredibly sensual shot and Juno didn’t know whether to feel freaked out or absurdly flattered.
Arturo was watching her and when she looked at him, his gaze was intense. “You are so very beautiful, Juno. It’s only you that cannot see it. I wish you would. I wish you knew how special you were.”
For a long moment, her breath caught in her throat. There was sadness in his eyes, regret but also something else. Something that frightened her. “Arturo, I…”
His lips were against hers then, just briefly, then he turned away. “I’m sorry, that was totally inappropriate, forgive me.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Really, I’m sorry. I respect you and Levi and I know that was… just call it… mio Dio, just call it the sad fantasy of this old man. Forgive me.”
“Of course.” Juno felt the tension back again, but she could see Arturo was embarrassed about his momentary lack of self-control. “Arturo, you are my friend… our friend, and I’m sorry that you and I were not meant to be. It’s not that I don’t find you attractive…”
Arturo held up his hands. “Please, stop.” He grinned at her. “Honestly, I knew from the start you were, let’s just say as the young people do; not that into me. It’s okay, really. Excuse my lapse. But your beauty is intoxicating, Juno. You must sense that.”
She shook her head. “I don’t see it but thank you for the compliment.” She pulled the sweatshirt down over her tutu—she’d filched it from Levi’s closet that morning and it almost reached her knees. It smelled of him too, all spicy and woodsy. “Are we done? I said I’d be back at the ballet studio for practice later.”
“Of course, I’ll pack up and drive you back.” He started to pack his camera equipment away, Juno helping where she could. “I’m surprised.”
“About what?”
“That the ballet studio is carrying on so quickly after… you
know.”
Juno nodded. “All of us were, but the thing is, we have commitments to see through or we could have our funding cut. Giselle has been cancelled, of course, but we still have the Jewels show to do. Tickets have been sold. So, regardless of Fausta’s death, we have to go on. It’s been hard, of course, but in a strange way, we want to honor her by doing this as she would have done it.”
“You sound almost fond of her.”
“I’m not going to be a hypocrite and say she was my best friend—far from it—but she didn’t deserve to die like that. Not at his hand.”
“Tudor Welch?”
She nodded. “I know we don’t know for sure but… yes, him.” She cursed silently and Artur put a hand on her arm.
“He will pay for what he has done. They always do.”
Juno half-smiled, half-frowned. “They do?”
“Eventually.” He met her gaze. “Eventually those people who take our loved ones away will pay.”
Juno felt a shiver go through her. “Arturo…”
“Listen to me, behaving like some kind of mafioso. I just meant… eventually God will judge them.”
“Of course.” But she couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant… what had he meant?
They packed up his car and set off for the city. They rode in companionable silence for a time. The sky had darkened and fat drops of rain began to hit the windshield. Thunder rumbled above and flashes of bright white lightening ripped through the black sky.
“You’re not afraid of storms, are you? Because I can stop and we can take shelter but really, we are perfectly safe.”
Juno shook her head. “No, I love them. They’re so… majestic.”
“Majestic is a good word for them,” he smiled at her, “and very apt for today. You were majestic back there.”
Juno grinned at him. “Arturo, stop complimenting me or I’ll get a big head.”
“Sorry.” He laughed. “Listen, not to step on Fausta’s memory, but I assume now, you’ll be the principal?”
Juno’s smile faded. “They haven’t made a decision yet and to be honest, Arturo, I don’t know if I want it. Not like this. I want to have deserved it.”
