The man would forever serve as someone who perpetually confused my thoughts.
My heart was heavy with the disappointment on not visiting with Chiara and Alessandra, I barely glanced up when Philippa arrived with my dinner. It’d now been a month since the events that had ended in Antonio’s death, and though Romeo had removed me from my prison to place me with him, I hadn’t checked to determine if he’d put me under lock and key. As long as I didn’t know, I could pretend that I was free to wander. I could believe that Romeo was better intentioned than he’d proven himself to be.
“Have you seen Romeo today?” I asked her as she pivoted around to leave.
“In passing,Signorina.”
“In passing? Does that mean he’s been in the house?”
“Yes. He is here now.”
Stupidly, I whipped my head around as if he might be standing right behind me. “What is he doing?”
“I am not certain, but he’s been traveling a great deal up and down the stairs.”
I looked down at the back of my hand and caught the glimmer of my engagement ring peeking up at me. “All right, Philippa. Thank you.”
I peered out the window and into the Chicago night. The weather had gone from cool autumn to cold winter now and a gust of wind pushed a cascade of snowflakes against the pane. Romeo had broken his promise to take me to visit my sisters, but he was not in danger. I expected to feel upset at him, even insulted, but I didn’t. Instead, I felt sad. He was the man his father and the mafia lifestyle had created him to be, a traitor prince. Just as I was a dethroned mafia princess.
Those roles had been decided for us right at birth, and they weren’t about to change now.
When the hour grew so late that I became weary, I slipped into Romeo’s bed and drifted to sleep. I stirred momentarily when I felt him join some time in the night, but he didn’t demand anything from me so I nodded back off. Sometime later I was disturbed by a noise, but it didn’t go on for long, so I never even opened my eyes. At least not until it happened again.
There was a whimper and then the bed shook. I blinked and took in my darkened surroundings, turning over to face Romeo to discover that what had disturbed my slumber had been him. He appeared to be completely out as he thrashed beside me. He’d thrown his head forcefully back into his pillow with his jaw so clenched I could make out each tendon in his neck. He’d bent his arms at the elbows with his hands in loose fists; I couldn’t tell whether he was attempting to guard himself or trying to ward something off.
He shuddered and writhed, his mouth beginning to move but no words spilling out. I watched him for a few moments, unsure if I should wake him up or not. His curly black hair had become tousled, his breathing accelerating into something approaching panic.
I’d seen enough.
“Romeo?” I whispered, hoping to not startle him. He didn’t seem to hear me because he started to thrash again, one hand latching onto the sheets and blankets like they were life rafts. “Romeo?” I spoke with a little more volume.
“Muuhh… No…” he muttered incoherently in a much higher-pitched voice than normal, and with that came another whimper. Whatever might be haunting his dreams couldn’t be pleasant.
The nearly full moon had cast its light across his features, highlighting the worry marring his brow. Despite the frigidness of the weather outside, Romeo was sweating, his perspiration beading along his hairline and upper lip. He rolled more violently this time, taking the bed linens with him as his legs became desperately tangled. Hopping out of bed, I padded barefoot over to his side, concerned about him. I’d never seen him like this. So vulnerable.
So human.
Deciding to stand back so I’d be out of his line of fire should he lash out, I called out his name. “Romeo. You’re having a nightmare.Wake up.”
His eyes snapped open, looking frenzied and wild, and he bolted upwards into a seated position. “W-what?” he stuttered out, another first. I’d never heard him be anything but articulate. “Where’s Mama?” he asked raggedly, pronouncing the word with an emphasis on the second syllable, just like our family did. I knelt by his side. Had he seriously just asked for his mother?
I lowered down to my haunches. “I’m sorry but your mother’s not here.”
He swallowed slowly as if gulping down a pincushion full of needles, but when he spoke again, it was with his typical deep tone. “No, of course not. I… I knew that.”
“I think you must’ve been having a bad dream.”
“Yes.” He brought a trembling hand up to his face and rubbed a hand over the scruff of his short beard.
“Her name was Dahlia, right?” I asked, and he nodded, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead on his knees, rolling himself into a ball. It reminded me of something a child might do. I sat beside him on the bed, skimming one of my hands over his bare expanse of back. He froze when I touched him but didn’t flinch, so I continued my faint caresses. “What happened to her?”
Romeo remained silent for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. Eventually he did, though he kept his face hidden. “Giving birth to Natalia.” My main memory of Romeo’s younger sister was when she’d cried over the body of his slain brother Gianni. “Something went wrong. Even though she was in the hospital. They saved my sister but…”
He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. “How old were you when this happened?”
“Six. She was… she was everything my father isn’t. Kind. Affectionate. Good. When she died, any decency my father had inside him died, too.” He spoke to his knees, keeping his voice soft and low.
I didn’t reply. As far as I was concerned, Angelo Cavetti was the devil incarnate.
