Then I meet Rosalie’s eyes. She’s standing near the staircase, wrapped in a dark red and white Christmas robe despite it being several weeks past the holidays now. Her brow is knit and her arms are folded.
“Are you alright?” I ask her as I approach slowly.
She nods. “I didn’t open the door, Nikolas did. I’m fine, and he’s fine,” she tells me. I eye her for a second or two and find that she is telling the truth. She doesn’t look bloodied or burnt anywhere that I can see. Unless she’s hiding it under her robe. I can’t imagine why she’d lied to me, so I quickly move on to finding my brother.
“Carmine?” I call out.
“I told you to stay out of it, Alessio,” Carmine’s voice comes from the parlor room. There are several mirrors set about along with a dress that hangs over one of them but hidden inside of a tailor’s bag.
Ah, that’s right. Rosalie was trying on her dress today.
“I’m marrying into this family, there’s no staying out of it,” I remind him. “Besides, I’m supposed to be your second. Or has Soren taken my place?” I step up to him with my hands in fists.
“There’s no time for arguing,” Soren interrupts.
“This isn’t about you,” I snap at him, then look back to Carmine. “Up until a month ago, I was the one making sure our family stayed afloat while you were drunk, high, and doing God knows what every single night. Losing yourself.”
“It’s different now, Alessio. You know that,” Carmine insists.
I scoff. “So, you’ve found yourself and you’re ready to take command of this family, good for you, but I’m part of this too. I’m second eldest, I’m not Cassian. I’m not a little boy to be kept out of the fray.”
Carmine sighs. “You’re right. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“If we spend too much time trying to keep the other alive, we’re going to get killed in the process,” I grumble. “Now, tell me exactly what happened.”
Carmine looks behind my shoulder. “Damian…Rossi, is it? You were here for the impact, why don’t you explain.”
I feel Damian’s presence behind me just like this morning and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“Of course, Mr. Dresvanni,” Damian says in a low and professional tone that lacks emotion. It’s different from how he spoke to me at the shooting range.
“During Ms. Fiorelli’s gown fitting this afternoon there was a knock at the door. Nikolas proceeded to the door. He only opened it partially before I got to him. I sensed that something was not right. I tackled him to the floor and held the door closed with my feet just as a small package on the porch detonated,” Damian explains.
My heart shoots into my throat. He was right there when it exploded? At the door…holding back the explosion with his feet while Nikolas was shielded underneath him.
“Are you injured?” I blurt out.
Damian steps around me and stands between my brother, Soren, and myself.
“I was minorly burned, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle,” he tells all of us, though his eyes flit over to mine and stay there for a few seconds longer than his words. “Nikolas is upstairs with Beau cooling off.” Beau is a young man the Fiorelli’s adopted after his family was killed. They seem to have a thing for adopting orphans.
“Good,” I say simply, reigning myself back. I need to remain composed. I can’t let Carmine find any reason to keep me in the dark or push me away from this.
Besides, isn’t it Damian’s job to do what he did? I should expect the man to get hurt, I should expect all of us to get hurtat this rate. I swallow hard and turn my attention to the more important details.
“How large was the package?” I ask.
“It was quite small. As was the bomb. The technicians are looking over the remaining pieces still, but based on my own experience, I don’t believe the device was intended to kill.”
Carmine clicks his tongue. “If it wasn’t intended to kill, only injure, then perhaps it is serving as a warning,” he suggests.
Eivor walks into the room with a huff. “A warning that I won’t be taking lightly,” he waves his arms and heads over to the alcohol cabinet, immediately grabbing a bottle and pouring a glass of what appears to be whiskey.
“Who do you believe would be warning you, Eivor?” Carmine asks.
“I think it’s fairly obviously,” Soren retorts.
I squint at them, and then look at Eivor, who is taking a drink and shaking his head.
