Three months of hell, and here we are. All of us, fucking scarred.
As we pull through the gates of the Asante estate, the last thing I want to do is go in there. But I slide from the car and adjust my suit jacket, tugging at my waistcoat.
It feels like the deception comes more easily now. As if the veneer I’ve adopted these last few months is sinking through my skin, settling into me. Becoming who I am.
We’re led through the halls to a new room. This one is the size of a ballroom, hundreds of flickering candles above our heads as a singer croons in the corner. Black-clad waiting staff weave through the boisterous crowd, carrying champagne and brandy.
I follow Matteo as he cuts a path to Salvatore’s side. The chair is closer to a throne, and his back is straight, his eyes icy as always. “Matteo. Morelli. Good to see you.”
He dismisses Dom completely.
My eyes skip to the empty space next to him, and I offer a smirk. “This feels a little more festive at least, after our last meeting.”
Matteo picks up the bait I toss down. “Indeed. Howismy cousin, Asante? Will she be making an appearance?”
Salvatore looks irritated at the question, at the curiosity Matteo doesn’t bother to hide. “She’ll be here. She has been unwell.”
What the hell does that mean?
Asante lifts his glass. “Enjoy the party, both of you.”
It’s a dismissal. I can feel Matteo’s irritation as we stroll away, pausing to collect a drink and finding a spot near the wall. “He has an interesting manner, Asante.”
Matteo ignores me. His face is dark as he downs his drink, reaching out and grabbing the arm of a passing girl as he picks up a second drink. The men around us cast glances in our direction, giving us a wide berth.
“Almost… disrespectful,” I continue in a low tone. I keep the mild expression on my face as I casually search the room, looking for a glimpse of bronze hair. “Considering everything you’ve given him.”
A grunt of agreement.
I’m not averse to sowing a few cracks within their ranks while I’m here. And if anything rankles Matteo, I’ve realized, it’s the thought of not receiving the respect he actually believes he is due.
I stay where I am when he strides off, his eyes sliding around the room as he searches for a woman. I pity her, whoever she is.
Dom pauses. “Find her.”
If I feel like I’m breaking, Domenico Rossi has beenshredded. Even his voice sounds different than it was a few months ago. Deeper. Something savage lingers there as if it’s been woken by the nights he spends savaging innocent people for Matteo’s amusement.
Can we even come back from the depths we’ve fallen to?
“Not long,” I say quietly. Desperately. “We’re going home, Dom.”
My eyes snag on the entrance doors, and I push away from the wall. I don’t look back.
I track them through the crowd.
It seems that I owe Matteo some money, because Stefano Asante has his hand on Caterina’s bare back as he keeps his arm out, stopping her from being jostled by the crowd.
Her shoulder blades are pointed and sharp, bronze hair brushing her spine between them, straight and sleek as she follows his direction. And I slip in behind them, sipping at my drink as I stroll.
I come to a stop in the middle of the crowd. There’s something different in her gait. The way that she walks – almost hunched.
Asante said she hadn’t beenwell, whatever that means.
I force myself to keep going, wandering behind them and watching from the corner of my eye as she’s led to Asante’s side. He glances at her, then at Stefano, exchanging a few brief words.
As they move away from him, Cat still walking in that strange way, I step smoothly into their path. “Buonasera.”
The bronze dress hangs from her frame. Her hands dangle by her sides, relaxed enough, but she doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t give any indication that she’s heard me.
