by K. I. Lynn
All I could do was trust that he would help him, and I prayed with a depth I hadn’t known I possessed that I’d put my faith in the right person.
A maid came forward with a bowl of warm water and a rag as soon as I stepped through the threshold. She helped to rid my hands of the dried blood.
Once she was satisfied, I followed my grandfather into his office. There were two guards standing at the doorway, and I did a double take at one of them.
I blinked in surprise at the familiar dirty blond with a crooked smile. “Mia bella,” he said with a wink before closing the door, and my stomach dropped with understanding.
“They were your men, not my father’s,” I said. Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked them away.
“Yes,” he said with a sad smile. “He was supposed to give you his card if you refused to listen again, but you never looked at it, did you?”
I shook my head. “I thought he was sent by my father. I…if I’d known…”
“My informants were made aware of a plot to…dispose of you.”
Dispose. The word had my stomach rolling. I added it to the growing list of outcomes my father had envisioned when he’d found out where I was.
“Your father had gotten word that you were stripping and used that as an excuse to tie up what he saw as a loose end.”
“That, or use me as a pawn.” The tears that filled my eyes spilled over, and I wiped them away with the heel of my hand before willing them to stop. “How could he?”
“That is something I’ve been asking myself. His ego has grown so much, and he believes he is untouchable. Somehow he even managed to convince himself that I wasn’t watching him. That I still hadn’t enacted my revenge for what he did to my daughter, let alone what he did to you. That he was safe.”
My brow scrunched as I remembered the multiple times his men came to the club. “You’ve known where I was for years. How?”
“Because strip bars are a great way to launder money.”
I balked at what he was saying. It couldn’t be… “Do you own Castle?”
He shook his head. “No, but we have a great relationship with Al. One day he was showing me his new girl, and I was shocked to find it was you.”
“Why didn’t you come?” I asked. Though I had to wonder: If he’d appeared back then, would I have gone?
“Word spread about what happened with your father,” he said, his eyes a mixture of sadness and anger. “You needed the moment of independence. I couldn’t clip your wings, not after everything you’d been through, so Al kept me informed. The deal I made with myself was that I would let you have your freedom, but if you began to spin out of control, I would bring you in.”
“So you were fine with me being a stripper?”
He shook his head. “No. I listened, I waited, and I offered, but besides a few unsavory admirers, you were fine. The most alive I’d ever seen you.”
“You didn’t watch…”
He shook his head. “Never. I am not your father. I sent those I trust most to report back, and Al kept me informed as well.”
As he continued, I flinched at the memories of my father’s hands on me and drew in a shaky, steadying breath.
“We’re in a real mess,” I admitted. Defeat washed over me. There was no way out that I could see.
“Yes, you are,” he agreed. “You will be safe here.”
I would be, but as I glanced to the door, I wondered if some of the men on the other side wouldn’t find a reason for that bullet or another to kill Domenico.
I needed him.
“And Domenico?” I asked.
“Will go back to the Ferrante,” he answered.
I shook my head. “No. He can’t. They’ll kill him.”
His hand slammed down onto his desk, and I jumped at the burst of anger. “And he’s killed us! That man is a vicious killer, Arabella. His hands are forever red from the blood he has spilled.”
“I know he’s a monster. A killer.” But I love him.
“Saving your life absolves him of that?” He shook his head. “You are being ridiculously and recklessly romantic.”
I stared down at my hands, at the tiny remnant of red that remained in the small creases on my fingers. “Maybe, but I’m no saint either. I’m not the pure little girl you once knew. That was taken from me, and it hardened me. And that monster is the only thing that makes me feel alive.”
He shook his head. “He cannot stay here.”
“Then once he is patched up, we will leave,” I said. Just please save him. “Please, just help him and we will go.”
He sighed, his body sagging. “Not everything is as it seems, Nipote.”
I shook my head. “It never is in this world of money and power.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.” He stared at me. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
I shook my head. “No.” But when he woke, he would find out. My deepest secret—one that I’d kept was also the one few Ferrante knew—I was Vitale blood.
And if I was correct, when it came to the Vitale bloodline, I was now the sole heir to the Vitale family. After all, that was what my father had hoped to use to propel himself further. I wasn’t sure what his endgame was, but I did know he would pay when everything settled.
If everything settled. If I didn’t make it, I knew the man sitting in front of me would make certain my father didn’t either.
“You have choices to make, but for now, why don’t you go get cleaned up and meet me for dinner at seven.”
“I want to see Domenico.”
He shook his head. “It will be a while. You can see him after dinner.”
I nodded and stood. If he helped Domenico, I could do as he asked, though my whole body vibrated, desperately missing his presence.
The door opened, and the guard I’d recognized stepped in.
“Luca, show my granddaughter to Francesca’s room.”
The man I now knew as Luca nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Nonno,” I said as I stepped toward the door.
“Arabella,” he called out, causing me to turn back to him. “I know you are caught up in quite a snarl, but I want you to know I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety. Even if that means making it so he is able to leave here as your escort.”
I gave him a soft smile. I knew it was hard for him, but it was all coming from that place of fatherly love that I’d been denied for years.
“Thank you.”
I followed Luca through the central hall with its large marble staircase. A glance down the extra-wide hall, and I was reminded of the sheer size of the estate.
I’d forgotten that, though my grandfather was second, he’d raised his family here alongside my great-uncle. Both were great men who’d lost their wives and daughters early, and I could see the toll in his eyes.
“You know, you could have at least told me who you worked for,” I said to Luca as we ascended the steps.
“Would you have believed me?” he asked as we reached the top and continued down the hall.
“Maybe.”
We stopped at the third door down. There was no special marking—it looked just like the other doors, but when he opened it, a wave of nostalgia hit me.
“Relax here. There will be a maid up soon to help you.” He closed the door behind him, and I was alone in silence.
The room was familiar. One I’d been in long ago, one that hadn’t changed. There was a large four-poster bed against one wall, and a floral duvet spilling over the edges. An image of me being curled up under the soft blanket swirled in my head as the memories flooded my mind.
It was my mother’s bedroom. The one she grew up in. The daughter of the second-in-command. A Vitale by birth.
As I walked around, my fingers flitted across pieces of furniture, creating a warmth that settled deep inside me even as the pain from her loss ripped through my heart once again. As the memories flowed, it was almost as if she were still there. I could almost see her s
itting at the cream-colored vanity, applying makeup. As I sat on the pink velour stool and looked into the mirror, a tear fell from my eye.
Before I could stop it, a torrent of tears erupted.
I missed her. So very much. Add that to the shitstorm that had been the last five or so weeks of my life, and I let all the pain and anxiety and fear out. Expelled everything but Domenico, all the truths that broke me, and I blanketed myself in the memories, in the still-lingering feeling of my mother within the walls of her home. There was the safety she always shrouded me in, even though it had cost her everything.
The swell of emotions that had built up for so many weeks spilled out of me, and I couldn’t hold it back, not when I didn’t know how Domenico was. All the what-ifs and negative outcomes circulated through my mind. Thoughts drifting in and out. What would I do without him?
“Excuse me, Miss?”
I sniffed and wiped at my eyes with the heel of my palm. “Yes?”
At the door stood a girl around my age, her hair pinned back in a bun and wearing a dress that fell past her knees, an apron topping it. In one hand she held a large wicker basket. “My name is Amelia. Master asked me to help you get ready for dinner.”
I looked down at what I was wearing, at the dried blood that splattered across my body, smears of dark red that still stained my skin. Only my hands were mostly clean.
“I…” I looked up to her. “I have nothing else.” Our bags were still in the car.
She closed the door before stepping forward and taking my hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She guided me through the only other door, which led to a large attached bathroom.
I could only stand and stare as she started the shower and pulled some toiletries out of the basket and towels from a small linen closet.
She moved in front of me and began tugging my shirt up my body. With all that had happened in the past six hours, I had no protest left in me and I allowed her to help get my clothes off.
She placed them in a plastic bag, probably to be destroyed, before reaching up for the chain around my neck.
I set my hand on hers. “Don’t.”
“I’m just going to set it down on that tray while you shower,” she promised, her eyes never leaving me as she slipped the gold over my head. “Miss Francesca and Master Laureano,” she said as she looked at the photos in the locket.
“Did you know her?”
She shook her head. “No, but there are photos of her in many places, and Master has a large painting over the fireplace in his office.”
He did? How had I missed that when I’d just stood in that very room? I needed to look the next time I was there.
She guided me over to the shower. “I will be back in a moment. Take as much time as you need.”
The warm water cascaded down my body in soothing droplets that turned to rivulets riding the curves of my skin. For a long time I just stood there, sighing with each muscle that loosened the death grip they’d held ever since I was taken.
I was safe. The fear still sat in the back of my mind, while the fear that clung to my skin like sweat swirled down the drain.
We weren’t really safe, only safe for now.
Domenico’s blood, still clinging to my skin, began to melt away. A few days of rest and we would leave, run away from all of it. Feuding families served only as a Romeo and Juliet reminder, and I was not going to be driven to death by them. I wanted to live, to be free, but above all, I wanted to be with Domenico, no matter what.
Somewhere along the way I’d fallen for him. The beast. The demon leader who held so much beneath the surface. His ruthlessness was ingrained, his domineering in his blood, his ability to command a group of men his purpose. But the most important aspect, his secret weapon, was his ability to truly care for someone. He wasn’t the man my father was—the villain who would use his own daughter as currency. Or Roman who would do anything to best Domenico.
Domenico’s ability to care wasn’t flashy or in your face, but was subtle and strong.
And Domenico cared about me. It was there in his touch, in his words of claiming. I still didn’t know why he’d risked so much to free me, why he’d put his life on the line, but I was grateful to an extent I couldn’t measure.
The click of the door had me drawing in a breath, and I reached for the body wash and washcloth. After scouring everything, I stepped out to find Amelia waiting for me. She handed me a towel for my hair, then used a second one to help dry my body before wrapping a silk robe around me.
I’d never had another help me bathe before, except my mother when I was younger, yet I allowed her to help me. Something about her put me at ease, and I felt that she was trustworthy. A feeling that I had lacked in my life until I’d found Domenico…until I’d been forced to return to the life I’d run away from by coming to my grandfather.
With everything that had happened, I welcomed her assistance. Someone to help me get one foot in front of the other and direct me when I felt lost.
Before we moved on, she clasped my locket around my neck. “Better?” she asked with a small smile.
I swallowed and nodded. It helped, but the only thing that would really make things better would be for Domenico to walk in. Instead I was left waiting, worrying, as the doctor took care of him. Hoping and praying he would be okay, that he would look upon me again with his intense silver eyes.
Amelia opened a door I hadn’t even noticed, and my eyes widened in surprise. It led to a large walk-in closet lined with clothing, some of it protected by plastic coverings.
“One of the other girls ran to get you some new undergarments, but while we wait, let’s find you a dress.”
I had undergarments in the car, but I decided not to mention it.
Bright pink jewels sitting on one side of a bright fuchsia dress caught my eye, and I stopped. The last party my father threw, the last New Year’s Eve my mother was alive, she’d worn it. Other dresses were familiar as well.
“These are my mother’s,” I said in a whisper.
She nodded. “Your grandfather acquired them after her passing.”
My brow scrunched. “What else did he acquire?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
I stepped back out into the bedroom and looked around, my gaze narrowing on a familiar jewelry box. I walked over and flipped the lid. Sure enough, the box was my mother’s.
After her death I’d asked my father if I could have it, but he’d said no. It still held all her jewels. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in diamonds and gold. The two other most prominent jewels were our birthstones—topaz for me, aquamarine for her.
I pulled out the necklace that held both our birthstones and added it around my neck with my locket.
“What about this one?” Amelia asked from the closet.
It wasn’t one of the spectacular evening gowns but a tasteful, off-the-shoulder blue A-line dress that hit at the knees. I remembered it—a favorite during the summer. My fingers played with the jewels around my neck.
“Perfect.”
Amelia dried my hair, straightening out my waves as she did so, curling the ends as she went. While that was going on, the girl they’d sent to get me new undergarments returned, and we were able to get me fixed up and into my chosen outfit.
It was strange, stepping into a dress that my mother once wore. It was a little large due to my weight loss, but thankfully it had a tie-up back. I think that was why Amelia picked it. Her shoes, however, were nearly a size too large, but we found a pair with clasps that would help keep them on.
When I stepped out of the room, two men were stationed across the hall. They were my guards, but I wondered why I needed them. One started walking, and I fell in line behind him as the second followed me.
As we walked, more staff and members of the organization stepped out of our way.
The respect I was regarded with was both familiar and strange after years of no one showing respect as I walked among them. The men aro
und me watched each step, but their eyes weren’t filled with lust and an underlying desire to fuck me. Part respect, part wariness.
We headed down to the main floor, and one of the men hooked my arm in his to help steady me. I was used to six-inch platform heels, but for some reason three-inch heels that were too big were more difficult to navigate.
They led me to a large set of doors and opened one, allowing me to step in.
The dining room was stunning. A large dark wood table that seated at least a dozen people was set for only two. The door shut, and I found myself alone as I stepped to the far end of the table.
A fire crackled in the fireplace, dispersing warmth and a soft glow.
The head was set, and I stood behind the open chair to his right. Placement meant a lot in seating. It was a position of respect.
“Please, Arabella, sit,” my grandfather said from the doorway. Once again, the large oak door latched closed, and we were the only ones in the room. “Would you like a drink?” he asked from a bar where he poured a glass of amber liquid.
“Wine would be wonderful,” I said as I sat and scooted the chair closer to the table. I didn’t really care if it was red or white. It’d been so long, and I needed a drink.
The intricate design of the china was another familiarity that struck me. It held the Vitale family crest in the center and had a scalloped edge. The smaller plates were rimmed with an ivy design.
With two glasses in hand, he made his way to the head of the table and placed one in front of me before setting his own down and taking a seat.
“Thank you,” I said before taking a sip of the deep red liquid.
“You’re welcome. Do you feel better?” he asked.
“Yes and no. How is he?”
He took a sip and relaxed back in his seat. “Ah, your worry is overwhelming you.”
“Please, tell me,” I begged. I just needed the relief that would come from the knowledge he was okay.
He blew out a breath. “He is out of surgery and steady.”
I drew in a stuttered breath and blinked the wetness from my eyes. He was alive. “When can I see him?”
His brow furrowed. “Later. First, I need you to tell me what happened to you.”
