I move the cage to my study. My men watch Gabriela down in the cove but give her space, privacy.
The birds died together. That’s not old age.
The goldsmith wasn’t quite forthcoming at the start of our meeting and I knew from his behavior that something was up. He was too skittish, too anxious. But it didn’t take much to buy his information. Then again, maybe he was paid to appear anxious.
I was right. Gabriel Marchese had commissioned the cage. Not my uncle. He’d told the smith what he’d wanted, given several photographs of my house. He’d even given him the piece of music for one compartment and had wanted a second, secret compartment.
He’d also had him destroy the plans once he’d paid for the cage.
My uncle wouldn’t have known about the second compartment. He wouldn’t have known that he’d be delivering his own confession in that gift.
He partnered with Marchese and Marchese fucked him.
Although I wonder how long they’ve been partners.
What I found in that second compartment was a thumb drive. I assumed the pellets inside it were just to keep it from rattling around in the little pocket. Without a thought, I’d left the food at the bottom of the cage when I’d retrieved the drive. My guess is the birds had eaten those pellets of food and died. To be sure, though, I’ve already sent a sample for testing.
I don’t like to see Gabriela upset, don’t like her to lose one more thing, even if they are just birds. But what’s more important is what I found.
On that drive were photographs and voice recordings.
I know now how that second boat arrived so quickly when Gabriela turned to her father for help after Alex’s murder. I wonder if that’s the reason Marchese is fucking with my uncle because my uncle fucked with him.
Although I can’t be sure on that. They could have been in on it together from the start. But would Marchese have given his permission for his own daughter to be left at the bottom of a well? He’s an evil prick, but isn’t that too far even for him?
It doesn’t matter. Either way, they both fucked me.
But Marchese wanted me to learn the truth. Or at least his manipulated version of it.
When I’d asked Rafa to get Gabriela’s phone set up, to add the phone numbers and make sure she had what she needed, he’d added something else. Something I wasn’t aware of. He’d added spyware that could track her calls, her keystrokes, location. All of it. I’m sure her new phone has the same.
One of the voice recordings on the drive is from Rafa to his father on the night Gabriela was kidnapped telling him she was on the move and that Marchese’s men were coming for her via the cove.
Now, did Rafa’s father and Marchese plan the second boat together? Or was that purely my uncle’s doing? Marchese wouldn’t know that his conversation with his daughter had been picked up. He wouldn’t know that another enemy would be out there too, once she was far enough away from land and too far for me to protect her.
In all the speculation, I am certain about three things:
Marchese is my enemy.
My uncle is my enemy.
Rafa is my enemy.
Rafa.
Christ.
The photos of him are the most damning. Overkill even. Did Marchese intend on hurting me personally somehow by showing me over and over and over again the many times Rafa betrayed me? Betrays me still.
But why?
Why would Rafa betray me? What does he have to gain by that? Is it as simple as seeking his father’s approval? Christ. How pathetic if that’s it.
I get up, brush my hand through my hair. I walk out of the study and to the man standing at the patio.
“Is she still down there?”
He nods. “She’s on the phone with her brother is what I’m told.”
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out, swipe the green bar when I see it’s Lucas, the man overseeing the surveillance of both Rafa’s house and my uncle’s.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Rafa’s got company,” Lucas says.
“Who?”
“Your cousin. Clara.”
“Clara? She’s in Syracuse.”
“Not anymore she’s not. Want us to go in?”
“No. Not yet. I’m on my way.”
“Stefan, is that a good idea?” Lucas asks. He’s been around a long time. Served my father before me. He knows our family. And he’s warned about the Catalano family since the day of my father’s death.
“It’s a fine idea.” My voice comes tight and short as I walk out of the house and tell one of my men to have the Bugatti brought around.
“I know that family, Stefan. I’ve known them longer than you. They’re no good. Your father knew it, too.”
I don’t like that. I don’t like hearing it. But maybe it’s more true than I’m willing to accept.
“Thank you, Lucas. I appreciate that.”
I disconnect the call and a few minutes later, I’m driving on my own to Rafa’s house because I have to. I have to see for myself. Hear for myself. I have to know.
27
Stefan
My head isn’t any clearer by the time I park the car and walk up to Rafa’s front door. I’m about to ring the doorbell when I hear Clara’s flirty laughter coming from the back of the house. I walk around, opening the gate quietly as I do.
But it’s not quiet enough. Rafa’s no fool.
Before I’m two steps in, he’s come around the corner, pistol in hand, his face hard.
I’m not surprised by his sudden, armed appearance. It’s one of the reasons he’s my right-hand man.
“Rafa,” I say, seeing him with different eyes.
He uncocks the gun and tucks it into the back of his jeans. “Stefan,” he starts, and I note that he is surprised. Anxious even. “What are you doing here?”
I walk toward him. I can feel how hard my expression is and I need to concentrate to keep it level.
“I wanted a drink,” I say.
In the time it takes me to answer him, he’s schooled his features and now gives me an easy smile. At least it’s meant to look easy. Now that I’m paying attention, though, I see it’s not. Not really.
“Well, then I have a surprise.” We walk around the back of the property and I find Clara sitting on the patio.
“Tada!” she announces, standing, stretching her arms wide.
“Clara dropped by out of the blue,” Rafa says.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I say, kissing each of Clara’s cheeks when I get to her. “Aren’t you supposed to stay in Syracuse?”
“Ugh, Stefan,” she starts, sitting back down and picking up her glass of wine. “Syracuse is the most boring place on earth.”
“I offered to move you to Rome.”
“I’d rather be here, in Palermo. With my two favorite cousins,” she says, smiling up at Rafa who is still standing.
“You’re alone again?” Rafa asks. His tone is so opposite Clara’s light one.
I nod.
“I told you. You can’t do that, Stef. There are people who…” he trails off.
“I can take care of myself, Rafa. And besides, you’re here. I can trust you, can’t I?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “What can I get you to drink?”
I see he’s drinking a Peroni. “Beer’s fine.”
He disappears into the house.
Clara sits back, taking a cigarette from what I assume is Rafa’s pack and lighting one. She folds one leg over the other and studies me as she exhales smoke.
“Now that you married her, can I come back?”
“You’re already back. You clearly don’t need my permission.”
“I was just visiting. Dropping in.”
“It’s quite a drive to drop in.”
Rafa comes outside then, sets a bottle of beer in front of me and has a second ready for himself. He finishes the open bottle and picks up the second.
Using my wedding ring as a bottle opener, I pop the lid and d
“You know what I miss,” Clara begins, setting her cigarette on the ashtray and leaning forward toward me. “Us.”
“Us?” I’ve always known Clara to be more cunning than Rafa may choose to see. It’s never bothered me before. It bothers me now.
“Us,” she says, standing. “Together.” She reaches back to unzip her dress and a moment later, she’s standing in a bikini.
I thought she’d have been naked under there and I mentally berate myself for thinking it. For thinking her so deceptive. I’ve known her all my life. She’s family.
But then she gives me a wicked grin, reaches back to undo her top and drops it to the ground.
I look at her. At her heavy breasts with their large, dark nipples.
And she’s not done yet. I wonder if she’s encouraged by my silence because she hooks her thumbs into her bikini bottoms and pushes them down slowly, bending deeply as she does, giving Rafa an eyeful.
“Clara,” he says, her name a command.
She cranes her neck to look at him, remaining bent over all the while.
“Yes?” she asks coyly.
“Put your clothes back on.”
She turns to me, straightens, cocks her head to the side.
I slide my gaze down, down to the bare slit of her sex, to the pussy lips just visible to me.
“Do you want me to put my clothes back on, Stefan?” She turns in a circle, faces me again. “You used to prefer me like this.”
I sip my beer, let my gaze slide over her once more, then meet her eyes. “That was past. Get dressed.”
Her expression changes, hardens. “That sad little virgin bride of yours can’t be giving you what you need.”
“You don’t know what I need, Clara. We had our fun, but I’m married now. Things are different.”
“You were forced to marry the spoiled brat. Everyone knows that. No one would judge you.”
“I could give a fuck about anyone judging me. Get dressed. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Her eyes turn to slits and she looks to Rafa.
He gestures to the house. “Go inside. Close the door behind you.”
She grits her teeth, bends to pick up her discarded clothes and, surprisingly, does as she’s told.
Rafa watches her until the sliding glass door is closed fully.
“You fucking her again?” I ask him.
He nods once.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it mattered. She shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, she shouldn’t.”
Silence falls again. Rafa picks up his second beer, drinks half of it.
“I actually came here for a reason,” I say.
“I don’t mind you coming just to have a beer. We used to do it a lot. I miss it.”
“Me too. So much has changed. But I want to repay your father for his help in finding Gabriela. For that beautiful wedding gift which I’m sure cost a fortune.”
“He doesn’t expect anything. I’m sure—”
“I want to organize a dinner. You can bring Clara if you want. You should. If you’re a couple, Gabriela’s going to have to get used to it. And Clara’s going to have to get used to Gabriela.”
“We’re not a couple, Stef. It’s not like that.”
“You’re just fucking her.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll leave it up to you.” I finish my beer, stand. “Saturday. A dinner to honor your father. To show my gratitude. It’s time this family came together as a family.”
Rafa stands. Nods. “That’s a good idea, Stefan. It’s past time.”
“I’ll see you Saturday.”
Rafa walks around the table and we look at each other for a long moment and I try to see him as he was. Because now, what I see is the face of a traitor. How sweetly they smile.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“You’re like a brother to me. You know that, don’t you?” I don’t know why I say it.
No, I do.
His betrayal, it wounds me. Because what I say is true. He’s always been like a brother to me.
He studies me, and what I see in his eyes isn’t the expression I expect. There’s a deep sadness inside him.
“You are a brother to me, Stefan,” he says. He leans in to hug me, kisses my cheek. And once again, I’m left thinking of Judas in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Of the kiss that nailed Christ to the cross.
28
Gabriela
I step out of the shower just as my phone starts to ring the next evening. I wrap a towel around myself, check the display. It’s Rafa.
Taking a deep breath in, I sit on the edge of the tub to answer.
“It’s done,” Rafa says.
“He’s moved?”
“Yes. With the nurse you wanted.”
“Where are they?”
“I’m just texting you their location. You can call her to confirm.”
“I will,” I say. I’d feel better if Rafa had given me the money to do it myself, but he wouldn’t do that. Said he’d take care of the transfer. That I had to trust him. I just hope I’m not wrong about this because if I am, Gabe will be the one to pay.
“If you need anything else—”
“I’m trusting you. I probably shouldn’t.”
I hear him sigh. “I understand that you don’t trust me. But hearing your father and you talk, fuck, Gabriela, I shouldn’t have taken you to him. I shouldn’t—”
“He told me the truth, at least.”
“Only to hurt you.”
“No. Well, that too, probably. But that’s not all. He’s losing to Stefan and he’ll do whatever he needs to do, hurt whomever he needs to hurt, to change that.”
“Fathers are…difficult.”
“Understatement.”
“Your brother’s safe at least.”
“You won’t tell Stefan where he is?”
“No.”
“You won’t tell anyone else?”
“No. I swear it.”
“Why are you helping me, Rafa?”
“I don’t know. This whole thing is a fucking shit show. It’s not what I wanted. Not how I wanted it.”
“What do you mean?”
Silence. “It’s complicated.”
“The birds died,” I say out of the blue.
“What?”
“The birds in the cage. They were both dead when I came into my room yesterday.”
“Both?”
I nod even though I know he can’t see me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you think Stefan…I mean, I don’t understand anymore. I can’t wrap my head around any of this.”
“I don’t think Stefan did anything to your birds, Gabriela.”
I know it’s stupid to even think it. I mean, why would he? How would he?
“What are you going to do now?” Rafa asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“What can I do? I have no money. I’m in Sicily in a heavily guarded house and I’m married to the man who holds the keys. And if that’s not enough, I’m trusting the man who is betraying his best friend.”
“That friend is your jailor,” Rafa says.
But it doesn’t feel right. I can’t just forget the tender moments. The good things Stefan has done. The way he’s cared for me.
“You just promise me, Rafa, please, that you’ll keep Gabe safe.”
“You have my word.”
I hear the bedroom door open and I startle.
“Gabriela?” it’s Stefan.
“Just a minute,” I call out. “I have to go,” I whisper to Rafa.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
I disconnect the call, take a moment to calm myself before opening the door.
Stefan is at the balcony doors. “Why did you close these?” he asks. They stand open now.
“No reason.”
He looks me over and I tuck the towel closer. “Have a drink with me before dinner.”
“Dinner already?” I ask, simultaneously looking at the clock to find it’s almost eight. I’m trying to avoid the drink invitation because I’m having a hard time looking at him.
He raises his eyebrows.
“I’m not actually hungry,” I say.
“A drink first. That’ll get your appetite going.”
“Why?”
“Why will it get your appetite going?”
“Why do we need to have a drink.”
“Because we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Christ.” He walks back to the still open bedroom door and pushes it closed. “I’m trying to be civilized,” he says, stalking toward me.
“A civilized mobster.”
His face hardens.
“I don’t want to have a drink with you.”
“That’s too bad.”
I step backward, turning to go into the closet to put on a dress.
“No,” he says, catching my arm.
“Let me go. I’ll get dressed.”
“No.”
“Fine. Christ. You want a drink? I’ll have a drink.”
“What happened, Gabriela?” he asks.
“Nothing. Let me go. I’ll get dressed.”
“No,” he says, tugging me toward him, looking down at where I’m clutching the towel. “Drop it.”
“Why?”
“You told me you wanted to trust me. Trust me.”
I don’t move. So much has happened since I said that. Too much.
“Or do your wants change with the wind? I don’t believe that. I think you’re too complicated for that.”
“Leave me alone, Stefan.”
“No, Gabriela.”
“What do you want from me?”
He comes closer still. Taking my face in his hands, he makes me look at him. “I want all of you.”
I’m taken aback, trying to make sense of his words. I don’t move when he undoes the towel and it drops to the floor. I watch him, try to understand the scope of emotion in his hazel eyes.
He walks backward to the bed, taking me with him. He sits on the edge of it, pulls me to stand between his legs.
From here I can already see the outline of his erection and my body responds.
“You know what the problem is?”
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