Absolution Savage Duet Part Two: Russo Saga Part Five

by Nicolina Martin

  “Bianca,” he says, his voice cold and hard.

  She narrows her eyes, then she lets go and blood returns to my hand. I’m suddenly extremely self-conscious about being here. My eyes move to the other men and women around me. Do they all hate me? Does everyone here know about Christian and me? How much exactly do they know?

  In rapid succession I’m introduced to Matteo, Luca, Eric, Anna, Nathan, and Sydney. It’s less tense. There are smiles, and greetings, and congratulations on Cecilia’s behalf, and a lot of ‘we can’t wait to meet her’. I’m trying to remember all the names. It’s overwhelming. The two women greet me a little more heartily. Nathan is polite, but I sense an underlying tension. Eric radiates danger. Much like Christian does when he turns dark. I shrink back and glance at the woman by his side, Anna. She looks so timid, but she’s gotta have balls of steel if she’s chosen to be with him.

  Or did she get to choose?

  You’re mine. Christian’s words come back to me. Was it the same for her?

  We eat. There’s an overabundance of cake, and Italian delicacies that I fail to remember the names of as soon as they’ve been introduced to me. There are games. Lots of laughter. Cecilia is finally properly introduced to her large extended family and finds a little soulmate in Ava, Nathan and Sydney’s little beauty of a daughter.

  Christian doesn’t leave my side the whole afternoon. I’m tingling from his presence, constantly aware of him, his scent, his low rumbling voice.

  I’m stunned by the change in demeanor in the Russos as the hours pass by. I’ve seen nothing but cruelty, possessiveness, force, but Salvatore seems genuinely fond of the children. I miss David, but I know that with his autism he’d find this crowd too much, so it’s probably the right choice to let him stay at his mom’s. Nathan and Eric don’t leave their women’s sides the whole evening and are constantly attentive to their needs, as if they worship the ground they walk on.

  I glance at Christian with a sucking feeling in my chest. Is that how it could be? Would he care that much about me? Our days in the cabin come back to me. He can be tender. He can be beautifully tender and caring.

  What am I doing? Why am I fighting this?

  Something makes me turn and look behind me. In the doorway in the far end of the room stands a woman with long strawberry blonde hair, cascading down her shoulders, wearing a demure, white dress and white ballerina shoes. My heart stops as our eyes lock.

  Chloe.

  Chloe!

  I rush through the room and throw my arms around her. “Chloe!”

  “Kerry?” she gasps and pushes away, taking me in. “Kerry! Oh my God! What are you doing here?”

  “Me? What are you doing here? Where have you been? I’ve missed you so much! Your parents! Do they know you’re back? Where have you been?”

  “That’s… a very long story. Kerry… are you and Christian…” She chews on her lip and a worried expression crosses her face as she glances over my shoulder. I follow her gaze and see that Christian is studying our interaction, his eyes dark and unreadable.

  I beat her up.

  Oh no. I look back to Chloe. “No! No, we’re not,” I say quickly.

  She looks relieved and my chest clenches. We’re not, but my whole soul yearns for him. How could I betray my friend? I can’t.

  “I heard what he did,” I say quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s a long time ago.”

  I regard her, my best friend, and realize that I don’t quite recognize her anymore. There’s a harder streak in her, she seems taller somehow, mature. My happy-go-lucky girl has a new darkness in her.

  “What happened to you?” I ask. “Where have you been?”

  “Here. And away,” she says, avoiding my gaze, glancing over my shoulder again. I follow her gaze and find Salvatore right behind me, towering over me, locking me between him and Chloe. Tension crackles, surrounding us, and then it dawns on me. He knew where she was, all this time. Salvatore knew where my friend was, and he didn’t tell me. A black cloud of rage rises in me.

  “You fucking bastard,” I yell and slam my fist right in his face. “How—” I scream as I’m pushed face first into the wall, and then he snatches me with him into the next room. My face hurts and my hand throbs with pain.

  All hell breaks loose, Chloe pleads, Christian tears Salvatore off me, and the two men face off, their fists tightened. Everyone comes rushing, yelling. People step in between Salvatore and Christian. I cry as I cradle my hand.

  “You’re quite the little troublemaker, aren’t you?” says a cold voice behind me. I spin around and stare right into Bianca’s hard gaze.

  Anna steps in between us. “She didn’t choose this, ma’am.” Her voice is just as stern as the older woman’s. “I’ll take it from here.” She lays her arm around my shoulder and pulls me with her.

  “Cecilia,” I gasp and look around me.

  “The kids are on the upper floor, watching a movie.”

  “Oh God,” I whimper. “What have I done?”

  “That man needs a good punch. Too few dare. Good on you.”

  “He’s gonna kill me!”

  Anna pulls me down on a leather couch in the next room, away from the ruckus. “Christian won’t allow that to happen.”

  “But without him?”

  “You’d be pretty fucked.”

  “Everyone hates me!”

  “No, they don’t, Kerry. Stop it. You’ve had shit luck. I kinda recognize myself in you.”

  I look up at her. “Yeah?”

  She smiles warmly, her large, brown doe-eyes twinkling. “Yeah, but it turned out really well in the end.”

  “It’s really fucked up… Between Christian and me.”

  “Kerry. I don’t know enough about it. What I do know is that you have one hell of a man who wants nothing but to take care of you and your beautiful child.”

  I swallow and glance toward the other room, where things seem to have calmed down. Everyone keeps telling me that. It’s what my heart has told me for a long time, while my brain keeps telling me to run.

  Chapter 25

  Kerry

  I fight to keep up the charade of everything being normal as I leave the mansion. Salvatore has been unreadable at best, charming with Cecilia, less charming with me, his cheek a little red below the left eye, where I hit him.

  His parting words to me have chilled me to my core: ‘You and I are gonna talk.’

  My fist hurts and I regret hitting him with a vengeance. Anna and I have exchanged phone numbers. Chloe has promised to call me. She looked guarded, though, and I just can’t shake the feeling that she’ll disappear on me again.

  Cecilia rushes to Christian who follows us out, hugs his legs. “Kis! Don’t leave.”

  He crouches before her. “It’s you who’s leaving, honey.” He glances up at me and a stab of uncertainty shoots through me. They need each other.

  “Do you want to come by? Some day? See her?”

  Christian stands and his lips pull into a smile. “Yeah. I’d want that.”

  I raise my hand in an awkward goodbye. “Okay… See you.”

  Then I flee. I feel his gaze as a tingling in my back until I’ve passed the gates.

  I don’t know how to maneuver this new world I’ve been thrown into. Christian’s less than friendly family, his outright hostile mother, and Salvatore, who had murder in his eyes when I’d punched him. I hope Anna can help me. I hope Chloe wants to see me. I still need to unravel the mystery with her disappearance and now reappearance. I’m relieved to know that Christian was honest. He actually didn’t know.

  Cecilia is exhilarated, full of sugar and happiness. She talks about Ava, and some other kids, and with a twinge in my heart I realize I live pretty isolated. I meet with Mom, Gayle and Rebecca, but I don’t know any other families, or people with kids. At least she’s with Carmen’s children during the days. That’s gotta make up for it. Right?

  My head spins as I drive home. The afternoon, turne
d early evening, was tumultuous, but there’s one single thing that stands out, and that’s Christian’s expression of joy as I invited him.

  Christian

  I sit outside her house and wait. For what? I don’t know. I should get out of the car and go to her, but I’m frozen from the shock of realizing how much I depend on these two people.

  It’s been five days since the disastrous birthday party. Salvatore is furious, but so am I. He deserved that punch, and he should own up to what he did instead of blaming Kerry for being unstable. What the fuck was he doing hiding away Chloe Becker? All this time? Did he keep her locked up somewhere? He’s gotta fucking talk to me. Kerry thought I had something to do with the girl’s disappearance, and at least that’s out of the way.

  I’ve also had a serious talk with Bianca. It hadn’t occurred to me that my family would hold a grudge against Kerry. None of this shit is her fault and they gotta back the fuck off and accept my choices.

  Kerry. I know she’s home, alone with Cecilia. I’ve circled the neighborhood twice. I just don’t fucking know how to hang with normal people and be what… chatty? What do we even talk about? Weather? Last night’s TV?

  I don’t fucking know, but I’ll learn. Maybe.

  Kerry

  Cecilia jumps on the couch in front of the TV, transfixed by cartoons. I am putting plates in the dishwasher and almost fly through the roof when the doorbell rings. It’s six fifteen Wednesday evening. Christian hasn’t called, or texted, or made even a peep and I’ve become increasingly worried that he won’t come.

  When I walk up to my front door with a palm over my slamming heart, I swear to God that I will install a peep hole, because opening this door, never knowing who’s outside, with the life I live, is frying my nerves. Filled with trepidation I unlock and pull open the door.

  Christian’s imposing presence fills the doorway. Neither of us speak, we just stare at each other as the space between us suddenly crackles with energy.

  “Can I come in?”

  I twitch to life, coming back to myself. “Yeah, sure.” I take a step to the side and gesture for him to enter.

  “I think this is the first time you’ve actually invited me here,” he says as I close the door. “Voluntarily.”

  “Maybe.” I feel him in the house all the time. Every square inch of this house is inundated with his being, or the absence thereof. “Cece is in front of the TV.” I nod toward the deeper recesses of the living room.

  He glances at me and an expression I can’t interpret passes his features. “Okay.”

  As he moves toward the couch where our daughter sits I flee back into the kitchen. My body is on fire. His appearance makes me breathless. This won’t work!

  I keep listening to them chatting, playing something. Cecilia’s light voice. Christian’s grave murmur.

  After I’ve put everything away, wiped every surface, and my kitchen is squeaky clean, I don’t know what to do, so I pour myself a glass of white wine, and then I just sit there by my kitchen table, paralyzed.

  “Kerry.”

  I almost tip the glass over from the surprise. “Hi. Yeah!”

  “She’s sleepy. I should—” He glances over his shoulder, and then back at me, his eyes unreadable. “—be on my way.”

  In my mind I grab him and beg him not to go. In the real world, I force a smile. “Okay. I’ll follow you to the door.” I veer off to pick up Cecilia on my way, hitching her up on my hip. “Wanna say bye to daddy?”

  “Daddy,” she says and reaches for him.

  Christian takes her hand, but his eyes are trained on mine. My heart speeds up as the air thickens. Yeah, this is not gonna go well.

  “Ker,” he licks his lips and my eyes follow his tongue. His gaze falls to my mouth, and then back up to meet my eyes again. He clears his throat. “Thank you.” He takes a step back.

  “Wanna come again?” I blurt out.

  His skewed smile makes my heart skip a beat. “I plan to.”

  When he has left, I put Cecilia to bed, and then I pour a second glass of wine. And a third. I’m shaking.

  Slightly hungover the next morning, while boiling water for tea, I get a text message.

  We should talk. Call me.

  It’s from Salvatore. My heart rate skyrockets and my mouth turns desert dry in an instant. The memory I’ve tried to suppress, his black eyes, the glare with a promise of pain, after I hit him, comes back with full force. It knocks the wind out of me, and I stumble back until the back of my knees hit a kitchen chair and I sit. My hands shake.

  Fuck.

  Suddenly I want Christian, but I can’t use him as a shield between me and everything that isn’t right in my life. In many ways he’s part of the problem.

  I text back, autocorrect messing up everything I write, but finally I manage a few words.

  Can’t now. Later.

  It delivers. Is read. A message is being written, interrupted, then the phone rings. My gut clenches hard. Salvatore.

  “Yes,” I gasp, out of breath as if I’ve been running a marathon.”

  “Miss Jackson. I’m not used to people telling me no.”

  “Then maybe you should learn some patience.” Fuck no! “I mean—”

  “You are to arrive at my place in one hour. One of my men will pick you up.”

  “I—”

  The line is dead. My body goes slack with raw fear. He’s not beyond hurting a woman. Luciano Salvatore isn’t beyond anything. Every instinct screams at me to call Christian, but at the same time I have such a vivid feeling that I need to face this. It’s my actions that put me here and I have to grow some balls and just do this. I’m not waiting, though. I refuse to just sit idle until some goon comes by and pulls me with him.

  I stand and dart out into the living room. “Ce, we’re going to Grandma.”

  She perks up and stands. “Gramma!”

  I run up the stairs and put on jeans instead of my soft pants.

  In the car I call Mom, making sure she’s home. She hears something is off, but what can I say? Nothing. As usual.

  “What’s going on, hon?”

  “I just need to do something. I’ll be at your place in ten, and I won’t be gone long.”

  I hope I won’t be long. I hope I’ll come back in one piece.

  After having left Cecilia with my mom, her worried face full of questions, I hit the freeway toward the more affluent suburbs on the hills. It’s a twenty-minute drive, and it messes fundamentally with my mind. When I finally arrive at the gates by his mansion, I have conjured up images of corporal punishments, of torture and agony.

  One of the guards, a man I saw a few days ago at the party, leans in as I roll down the window. “I need to speak with Salvatore,” I blurt out before he even opens his mouth.

  He narrows his eyes, stands and turns half to the side, speaking into his radio. Turning back, he nods and the gates slide open. “Good luck with that.”

  I swallow hard and stare at him, then I press my lips together and rev the engine. Fuck them all!

  The always-present Ivan opens the door and gives me a curt nod. I want to ask him if he ever does anything else other than stand there.

  “He’s in the dining room,” he says and tilts his head toward the double glass doors at the far end, between the two wide, curved stairs that lead to the upper floor.

  I nod. “I know the way.”

  I walk with heavy steps, my legs barely obeying me. At the far end of the large dining table sits Salvatore with an espresso cup and a laptop in front of him. He looks up when I enter, raising an eyebrow.

  “You’re a woman of many surprises.”

  “Yes,” I say, my lips numb, my mind blank. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out.

  “You look like a frightened little bunny.” He stands and walks toward me, his steps measured. My mouth goes dry as he rounds my corner of the table and comes up behind me. “I like it.”

  I swallow hard, the instinct to run immense. Fingers touching the skin o
n my nape, pushing my hair to the side make me jerk, but I force myself to stand still. He leans in, his breath fans my ear.

  “You’re real trouble, Miss Jackson. I lose face when I get fucking slapped in my own house. By a girl, no less.”

  “I—I’m sorry, Mr. Salvatore. I didn’t think.”

  I scream when he suddenly grabs the hair at the back of my neck and forces me face first down on the table.

  Salvatore leans in, his body pressed against the whole backside of mine. “You know, I can do what I want with you. I can fuck you. I can have you thrown in chains and beat you to within an inch of death. I can kill you. There’s no one who can challenge me. Your beloved Christian will bitch about it, your dear friend will pout, but there’s nothing anyone can do. You do best remembering that.”

  I fight the tears, but it’s no use, they fall anyway. His hold on my hair is vice-like and my scalp screams in pain, but it’s nothing to the chill that spreads through my body. I don’t want to plead. I refuse to plead. I can’t imagine for a second that Luciano Salvatore would listen to sniveling and tear-filled excuses.

  “What do you want from me?” I finally ask, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “I want your absolute obedience. I don’t want to hear no fucking ‘later’ if I tell you to come here. I don’t want stubborn glares and silent disliking. You’re in my world now, Kerry Jackson.”

  “You really don’t know me, do you?” I say, my voice hoarse.

  He rips me up by my hair, making me cry out and clutch for his hand, then he throws me into the wall, following suit, his hand grabbing my chin. He leans in, pressing his body against mine, his nose traveling along the side of my neck until his mouth is by my ear. A scent of expensive cologne wafts up. “Sweetheart. I’ve tamed more stubborn women than you in my days. Sooner or later everyone breaks. Is that really where you want to go?”

  “No,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. It’s just… my friend.”

  He straightens and looks me over, then his hand comes up before my face. I flinch, but all he does is trace my hairline with the tips of his fingers. Our eyes are locked. I stare into his dark gaze that softens slightly as he tucks a lock behind my ear.