“Do you know the old story of the rich man who built a splendid tomb for his beloved wife?” I circle him again and stop behind him. “As the years passed, he filled it with treasures and finally made it his own dwelling, forgetting the love that inspired it.” I grip his hair and pull back his head until he meets my gaze. “You see, Kent, some people are like that wealthy man. They think they love, but they only love themselves. They’re nothing like the men whose honor never dies.” I let him go with a shove. “You fall into the first category.”
He stares at me with hate. “Go fuck yourself, Dante. I hope you never find the necklace.”
“Oh, I will.” I walk around and face him once more. “When I do, I’ll leave a stone on your grave, a nice big diamond to haunt you with the knowledge that there’s nothing to spend it on where you’ll be rotting in the ground.”
He tries to spit on my shoes again but misses.
My laugh only infuriates him more.
He pushes to his feet and storms at me. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Ulysses grabs his arm. “Easy now. You’ll want to save your strength. You don’t have much of that left.”
“Fuck you all,” he screams.
I stay until the end. Until then, he chooses to keep his mouth shut. I always knew he’d never break, not under torture and not under a knife. I just never expected him to betray me.
When the light goes out in his eyes, I walk to the door. “Send someone to his place to get his dog. He lived alone. There’s no one to feed it.”
“Yes, boss,” Reino says.
“While they’re there, they can search his apartment.”
Ulysses opens the door for me. I walk into the late afternoon sun. There’s a chill in the air. Or maybe it’s in my heart. Maybe I’m the one who’s forgetting like the rich man in the story, neglecting Lee’s memory in lieu of the people who are very much alive.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Tatiana
* * *
The day is sunny, and the birds are chirping. Even here, at the cemetery, the world carries on. The sun rises, and the robins go about catching worms and hatching their pretty blue eggs.
I stand in front of the mausoleum where my parents and grandparents are buried, taking in the gable with the simple cross.
I’ve been here before. My mother brought me to put flowers in the wall-mounted vases that frame the granite door, the ones in which I’ve just put the roses. But it feels as if this is the first time that I’m crushing the dead birch leaves under my shoes and seeing the snowy white of velvety petals against the veined gray of the granite.
Judging by the decayed wreaths on the stone steps, no one has been here for a while. I should’ve come sooner. I don’t know why I haven’t. I don’t know why there are no flowers, no signs of me having been here.
I won’t be surprised if Leander doesn’t ever come. He wasn’t close to our mom. He never gave her the respect or love she deserved. The only interest he had in our father was what he could inherit from him.
The crunching of steps on the gravel path pulls me from my thoughts. I glance over my shoulder. Dante is walking toward me, his eyes burning on my face as if he’s been studying me from a mile away. His guards are standing at a respectable distance, giving me privacy.
My husband doesn’t look away until he stops next to me. He searches my face for a few beats before cutting his gaze to the fresh flowers. Something dark and harsh flashes in his eyes, but when he looks at my mother’s name that’s carved into the stone, whatever I saw or thought I saw is gone.
We both face forward, standing shoulder to shoulder in silence. His warm fingers wrap around my hand where it rests loosely at my side. The touch is comforting, a reminder of life in this lonely cemetery.
He breaks the silence first. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your appointment. How did it go?”
“Good.” I smile, gazing at the roses. “Hypnotherapy is very relaxing. It’s not what I imagined.”
“What did you imagine?” he asks in a low, tender voice.
“That I’d wake up from a deep sleep and remember nothing. Instead, I’m conscious of everything that’s happening. It’s not like those shows on stage where a spectator is hypnotized and told to do something they can’t control.”
He rubs a thumb over my knuckles and says with humor, “That’s a relief.”
