I let out a short laugh as I went back to the kitchen. I felt safe around the masked monster. My soul might be blackened with my sins, my hands stained with blood that would never wash off, but there was no evil in this place. Not true evil. Not the kind that made me scared to breathe.
No, there was a man without proper morals, who brought my exact coffee order and wanted me to be comfortable in his home. I grabbed the coffee, took a long sip, and sighed.
Damn, that tastes good.
Really good.
A smile played on my lips as I marched into the garage. I might not trust Liam with my heart, but the masked devil had a sweet side. Slipping behind the wheel, I stroked the cornicello. Nothing was going to hurt me while Liam was around. I decided as I slid behind the wheel that I would unravel my thoughts around my husband later. For now, it was safe to say that while his hands were permanently bloodstained, Liam McDonagh was a good man.
***
Mama’s face wasn’t swollen. If there was a fresh mark or fading bruise, it was expertly hidden by makeup—as always. She had some fashion magazines and gossip rags on the kitchen table, which she idly flipped through as we chatted. Because she wasn’t allowed to have a tablet or a smart phone—her phone was the basic call-text only kind—she had to page through her material the old-fashioned way. Cesca bustled about the kitchen, prepping lunch and shooing the girls when they popped into the room.
It was mother-daughter time.
Which was beyond strange because we’d never done this before. I disliked being lazy. There was always work around the house to help with. Plus, I’d had a real job.
When Mama rose to use the bathroom, I dropped my head into my hands.
“It’s good you’re here, cara mia,” Cesca said quietly.
I peeked at her from between my fingers. I bit my tongue to keep from telling her how much I detested tabloids. But I didn’t have to say it; she knew.
Coming to the table with a fresh glass of lemonade, the old woman leaned down to brush the hair off my face. “Your mama has very little life. You being here gives her an excuse to let her guard down. To just…be.”
A surge of guilt swelled in my chest. “She could dosomethingto pass the time.”
“You know that mobsters pride themselves on keeping women pampered and out of the menial drudgery.” Cesca clicked her tongue. “Your mama hasn’t had a life of her own since her papa thought her old enough to marry.”
“She could have a hobby.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. I held up my hand to stop Cesca’s lecture. “I’m glad I’m here. If a couple of hours entertain her, then so be it.”
The withered hand caressed my cheek once more, before it withdrew to find more work.
When footsteps sounded at the door, I held up the magazine and smiled broadly for my mother, ready to show her something. Ready to engage with her and give her the escape she craved.
Only…it wasn’t Mama.
“Gabriella, come to my office.” The clipped tone brooked no argument.
With a sigh, I rose and followed my father to his den.
“Where is Liam today?” Papa demanded, falling into his easy chair.
I glanced toward the closed door, wondering if this wasn’t a trap. “At work.”
“Where?”
“The new construction build. You know, the fifty-story complex that his company is building?” I didn’t know that much about my husband’s actual work. It was probably something a good wife would learn about, but since I wasn’t invested in a long-term relationship, I hadn’t seen the point.
“What does he do all day?”
I shuffled my feet. “I—I don’t know. I’ve been at our house this whole time.”
Papa’s voice grew tighter with each question. “What time does he come home?”
This was the same line of questioning he’d taken the other day.
“It varies,” I stuttered.
