“There you are,” he says, opening the door. For the first time today, I smile like I mean it, taking his hand outstretched toward me. “Woman of the evening. You look spectacular, Cecilia.”
“Well, you don’t get the chance to perform for Luca’s audience every day. Father wanted me to dress the part,” I tell him, stepping out of the car.
He dips his head in agreement, placing that warm hand on the small of my back. “You’ll make Don Ferrara proud.”
No, I won’t.He’s not even here tonight, the event too small for him to make the trip back from Rome until his business there is settled. Cesare, however, showed up.
Of all my father’s men, he is by far the kindest. He once found me crying on the stairs because I’d gotten a B on my math exam, and instead of dismissing me like everyone else, he sat with me, looked over my test, and called the teacher a moron. She wasn’t one, but I appreciated that someone cared. To this day, he’s the closest thing I have to an ally in thepalazzo.
“You know, I’m really surprised Luca couldn’t perform tonight,” I say as he leads us up the stairs of the gallery.
Cesare’s eyes flicker with a thought I don’t have access to before he smiles. “Well, he does have a family. And a life.”
“You don’t think something happened to him, do you?”
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
I don’t. He might be a great pianist, but he’s also a patronizing, womanizing imbecile.
“That doesn’t mean I want him harmed.”
“Of course not,” he says vaguely, never answering my question. Most likely, the man who was supposed to perform in my place is…gone.
But Cesare doesn’t tell me everything. He feeds me crumbs of information sometimes, only when he deems it worthy of my attention. I don’t mind it, though, because I don’t tell him everything either. His main loyalty will always be to my father.
“Is it happening again?” he asks me out of nowhere as we enter the gallery. The interior is tall and spacious, adorned with paintings. We walk the hallway together, smiling at people who pass us by.
“Hmm?” I turn my neck to him, my eyes constantly searching for something.Someone.
“Your paranoia. Your nightmares. You seem oddly distracted tonight.”
“Oh—I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Cecilia…”
His mouth opens to say something more, but the words never come. He thinks I’m crazy too, I’m sure. But unlike my father, he refrains from telling me to go see my shrink, knowing how much I despise her.
“I’m sorry Ms. Donatello couldn’t make it back from New York in time,” he resolves to saying. “I know she would’ve made things better. You know you’re safe with me, though, right?”
I suck in a breath and then expel it, spotting a guard at the end of the hallway. “Thank you for that.”
He takes his hand from behind my back and uses it to wrap my arm around his as we continue walking. “Good. I do, however, have some not so pleasant news. Thought you should know, though maybe now is not the best time…”
“What is it?”
“Well, if I tell you, it stays between us.”
“As always,” I say.
He sighs, his voice all smiles for public pretense, and then says the last thing I would’ve wanted to hear tonight—or ever. “Your father made a list.”
I halt. The words float between us, weightless at first, as if the world has stopped moving and time has ceased to exist. Then, everything resumes a second later, the information crashing down on me like a boulder.
“What…?”
“I found it in his office the other day,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
A heads up… No heads up could have prepared me for the disappointment that seeps into my chest.
