18
GIA
Dominic’s cell phone rang again. He’d left it in the study. I rushed back into the room and picked it up, reading the display before swiping to answer the call.
“Hello?”
Hesitation on the other end.
“Salvatore?” I asked.
“Who’s this?”
“Gia. Gia Castellano.”
Silence.
“Are you still there?”
“Where’s my brother, Gia?”
“He just left. He wouldn’t talk to me. I think he needs space to process what you just told him.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Where are you? No, don’t tell me.”
I heard a final boarding announcement in the background.
“Look, I don’t know you. I heard about your brother, though, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
I snorted. Didn’t people know it didn’t help to hear that?
“Butmybrother needs someone right now. He probably shouldn’t be alone, Gia. I don’t know your relationship—”
“He’ll be back.”
“You sound confident of that.”
“I am. And I’ll be here when he is.”
“If you can, try to get him to come to the house. The funeral will be tomorrow afternoon. It’s probably good for him to say good-bye.”
“I don’t know that he’s ready for that. I don’t know the whole story, but from what I’ve seen, he’s been running from this for seven years.”
“I know. That’s Dominic. Predictable. He’ll always take the most extreme route.”
It irritated me that he called Dominic predictable, but then, in the way Salvatore said it, I had to agree. My mind moved to something else. “Will the Scava’s be at the funeral?”
There was a pause. “I assume Angus Scava will be.”
A woman’s voice came through, telling him they would be closing the doors if he didn’t board immediately.
“Why?” he asked.
“You have to go. I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him come.”
I disconnected before he could ask again. I had a feeling he knew at least a little bit about me. I paced the study, thinking, planning. The auction would take place tomorrow. But now, with the funeral on the same day, it changed things. I didn’t know Dominic’s plan about the auction, but the funeral opened up another door, another way in. Maybe a smarter way.
I went upstairs to Lucia’s closet and found an overnight bag and began to pack. I found a black dress. I’d look stunning in it. It would be perfect for the funeral. And for showing Victor Scava he’d failed. That he’d now pay. Tomorrow may be Franco Benedetti’s funeral, but it was my coming-out party. I didn’t care about Benedetti. No, check that. I cared that the news held so much power over Dominic, considering their history. I knew now he’d truly done nothing but run, nothing but dig himselfdeeper into this black hole over the last seven years. A hole he would not be able to climb out of, not on his own. I saw it in his eyes, read it in his reaction. It was the same thing that I’d seen while he’d held me at the cabin. That hint of the humanity, the vulnerability behind all the hate and rage. Dominic Benedetti may be a monster, but he was a monster with a bleeding heart. That heart was in no way made of gold. It was more barbed wire and steel and sharp, deadly edges.
