“Signore,” a voice cut into the space between us and my heart leaped. My head whipped round in its direction and I came face to face with Philippa balancing a pot of tea and a couple of teacups on a silver platter in her hand. “Your tea.”
It made sense that she would be the one who brought out the requested tea, given she was the one in training to serve me specifically. All of a sudden, I felt a knot in my throat and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Expertly keeping the platter balanced in one hand, she poured some into both cups and then presented the platter to Lucia.
“Here you are,Signora,” Philippa said to Lucia.
Lucia gave her a bright smile. “Thank you.”
Objectively speaking, Philippa was far more attractive to me than Lucia. If Lucia was as beautiful as the Sun, Philippa was the glowing moon, and I’d always been more of a night owl. I didn’t understand the gravel in my stomach all of a sudden—the guilt that was registering as Philippa served Lucia. All I’d dreamed of was being with Lucia, so why was I suddenly wishing that I could send Lucia away and explain to Philippa that she meant nothing to me?
Lucia did mean something to me, didn’t she?
Philippa turned to me and presented the tray with the other cup of tea. I looked up into her eyes and my heart thudded a little. I finally managed to squeak out a couple of words as I grabbed the cup, “Thank you, Philippa.”
She stepped back with a subservient bow. “Of course,Signore. Do you need anything else?” Instead of words, I just shook my head. She dismissed herself, gave Lucia a final smile, and then left the gardens behind.
“Are you okay?” Lucia asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
I felt like I’d seen one. What was going on all of a sudden? “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Is it that handmaiden?” Lucia said.
“No, no,” I lied. “That’s Philippa. She’s worked for our family for many years.”
“That’s nice,” she replied.
It felt like all the excited, electric energy I had to be dealing with Lucia was gone. Why? She was where my heart was. She wasalwayswhere my heart was.
We enjoyed a muted tea in the gardens where my eyes kept drifting back over to the cherry blossom tree I’d planted in Philippa’s honor for her birthday.
I missed her. It’d only been an hour or so, but it felt weird not to have her near me.
Eventually, a staff member came to collect Lucia and return her to her family, and I was directed to find my father in his office. None of my siblings were there, so it was just a private meeting with my father and myself.
“How was your time in the garden?” Angelo asked.
It was a weird question to start on, but I answered it honestly. “It was lovely. Lucia likes flowers just like mom.”
“So I’ve been told,” he replied.
“How was your conversation with the Bonifacios?” I asked.
“Productive,” he said simply. “We’ve set up a meeting between the Bonifacio parents, Romeo, and myself for about a month from now. It is at that meeting that you will show up and be killed, and it is at that meeting that we will retaliate and kill them instead.”
I imagined Romeo finding my dead body and I couldn’t imagine him reacting poorly. If anything, he’d probably be relieved. “Are you sure Romeo will react the way you imagine?”
“Of course, you’re family,” my father said. “We fight for our family.”
In a single phrase, my father’s strange behavior started to focus. That was why he’d been involving me more in the family, so that I was seen as family. As far as Savio and Natalia were concerned, even Marcello to a degree, I was more of a stranger than a brother. To ensure that they would see me as a sibling and want to react with that veracity, my father started to involve me more with the family.
What a mind wasted on cruelty.
“What is your plan for me to get shot without dying?” I asked.
My father shrugged. “That’s not my problem, but it had better look real.”
All my father cared about was an excuse to kill the Bonifacios. A little more clarity was shed on the ultimate plan in his mind, and I was a much smaller part of it than he was letting me believe. As long as it allowed him to pull the trigger, my father could not care less if I dropped dead on the spot.
8
