On impulse, I grab my sister’s hand and give it a squeeze in lieu of a goodbye. Then I charge toward the front door on heels that were not meant for such activity. Before I announce my presence, I take a preparatory breath to center myself, and then I’m knocking. I steal a glance in Violetta’s direction and find her still seated, so motionless she could be a mannequin. If she runs from me… I shove that thought aside when the door opens.
“Good early morning, Signorina Nardone.” The butler sweeps his gaze over my formal attire and the very informal hand on my hip. “How may I be of service?”
“I need to speak to Signor Silvestri please. It’s urgent.”
“Right this way.”
He leads me to a formal parlor and leaves me to pace the oriental rug, my heels sinking into the material and leaving behind distinct indentations. The nervous energy zipping through me won’t allow me to be immobile for very long and my mind is no help. It’s filled with uncertainty and with every second that passes I’m becoming more confused as to what I’m doing, and going to do.
“Carina.”
I whip around at the sound of Tristano’s voice. It has such an air of authority that I immediately halt and my spine nearly snaps when I straighten it. He didn’t command me to cease moving, nor does he command me to speak, but I do both.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but Rafael is now in my father’s custody and I had to tell you,” I say, my words all but tripping over themself in my haste to expel them. “My father said he plans to ransom Rafael and I believe him because I put a tracker on Rafael’s cell phone and its current location is my father’s nightclub. If…”
My voice trails off as the words I’ve yet to say become lodged in my throat and choke me.
“If my brother was dead then they wouldn’t have transferred his corpse to the night club.” Tristano folds his arms. “Is that correct?”
I nod mutely.
“Anything else I need to know?”
Like a scolded child, I slowly shake my head. I most likely appear as such, with a look of guilt on my face and my eyes wide with fear. I’ve tried to maintain my composure, but talking about Rafael in such circumstances is more than I can handle with a straight face intact.
“I think there is,” he says. “I think there’s a lot more to your involvement, other than what you’ve presented just now.”
Just as I part my lips to deny his accusation, the front door opens. In walks a man, whom I assume to be one of Tristano’s, and Violetta. He’s not touching her, but he’s so close to her that there’s no way she can get away if she tried.
My gasp is loud. “Why is she here?”
I direct my inquiry to Tristano. Which is why I’m able to witness his reaction to my sister. He blinks several times, as though awakening from a trance or a dream, and then inhales sharply. His gaze meanders from high to low and I don’t have to guess at what he’s doing. My sister, despite her silence, is still quite beautiful. And the head of the Silvestri family is not only noticing, but he appears temporarily stunned by it.
He tears his gaze from her and clears his throat. Then he looks at me, his gray eyes boring into me. “I’m going to ask the questions and you are going to answer them truthfully, or you and I will find ourselves with a serious disagreement on our hands. Am I clear?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
This man is beyond just an authoritative figure of a powerful family; he’s a dominant male in every way.
“Good. Now, tell me how you’re involved with my brother’s current predicament.”
I explain everything, holding nothing back. By the end there are unshed tears in my eyes and I furiously wipe at them before they spill down my cheeks.
“I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
Tristano’s stony expression hardens all the more. “Then you shouldn’t have done what you did.”
I rear back as though he’s slapped me. Shame spreads throughout my body and it weighs on me so heavily that my shoulders droop and I lower my head, unable to keep it level. But also because I can’t hold his gaze.
He’s right and there’s no argument to me made otherwise.
“Carina.” I chance his wrath and bring my gaze up to meet his, only due to the softening of his tone. “You care for him.”
It’s not a question or a guess; it’s a statement of fact.
And he’s right. Again.
Somehow hearing Tristano say that out loud solidifies it in my heart. I love Rafael. But now that love is slowly killing me because of the choice I made.
