“Nobody.” Emilia shook her head. “It’s probably the best-kept secret in the Cosa Nostra. He portrays that he has money, when in reality the house is probably close to being foreclosed on, and the cars will be repossessed.”
The oven timer blared, and she jumped. For one moment, I watched her composure slip, and she was suddenly unfocused. Her eyes darted around the room, as if she’d forgotten where she was.
Emilia jumped off the stool and wrenched the oven door open. With her back to me, I focused on the slump of her shoulders and the sigh she let out. Gently, she pulled out the rack and tapped the bread. Without a word, she put it back in and closed the door. She reached for her phone, tapped the screen, then put it down.
“Where did you go?” I asked quietly, but I couldn’t hide the concern in my voice.
She took a ragged breath and looked toward the ceiling. “That was the same alarm my brother would set off to let me know he was coming for me.” Reaching out, I pulled her to me, and she sat in my lap. “I used to hide, but the beatings would just be worse when he found me. So I would just wait in the hallway for him. I know it’s crazy, but it gave me just a little bit of control.”
“Why did you let it go on for so long? Surely there was someone you could tell?” I whispered.
“I protected my sisters from the same nightmare. As long as I kept quiet, he didn’t do anything to them.” A tear fell onto my arm, and I held her tighter as we sat in silence.
Everyone in her family who knew, or even had an inkling, would pay. I didn’t know when, but when I enacted revenge for her, it would be lengthy and painful.
Her fingers traced the outline of the tattoos on my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts of revenge. The alarm on her phone buzzed, and the difference between the blaring stove and the phone's chimes was night and day.
CHAPTER 27
NICO
"Are you done?"I pulled her down to my lap and ran my hands over her stomach. I had expected her to push me away, but she relaxed into me. Her body melted against mine, the tension I'd felt radiating off her all evening finally easing.
"I could be. Camilla will be here soon, and she can put the bread away." Emilia let her head fall back on my shoulder and sighed. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon clung to her hair, mixing with the flour that still dusted her clothes. "Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?"
"Can I take you to bed first?" I turned my head, kissed her neck gently, and slipped my hands under her shirt. Her skin felt warm and soft.
"You can take me to bed, but before you get any fancy ideas, you'll tell me what happened." She swatted my arm away and stood.
I watched her move around the kitchen, putting things away and covering the bread with a towel. The loaves were perfect, golden brown and still steaming. She turned and smiled at me, "Okay, I'm done." Emilia reached out her hand, and I took it.
Walking out of the kitchen, I noticed the Christmas decorations for the first time. "Baking and decorating. You were busy tonight." I stopped at the stairs, looking at all the stockings, and a lump lodged in my throat. The names stared back at me, each one a memory, a loss, a piece of my history. Reaching out, I touched the soft white fabric that held my father's name. Constantine. The letters were embroidered in gold thread, my mother's careful handiwork.
"I thought they should be hanging instead of in a box." Emilia let go of my hand and put her arm around my waist. "Your mother told me stories about each of them. I wish I could have known your father."
"He would have loved you." The words came out more abruptly than I intended. "He always said the strongest women were the ones who'd survived fire. You've been through hell, Emilia, and you're still standing. That's the kind of strength he respected."
She squeezed me tighter. "Cecilia said you look just like him."
"I have his eyes, his build. But I got my mother's temper," I managed a small smile. "My father was calculated, patient. He could wait years to make a move if it meant the outcome would be perfect. I'm not always that patient."
"I've noticed." There was humour in her voice now.
"Thank you," I whispered, emotion filling those two words. With one last glance at the railing lined with the names of loved ones I missed, we went to our room.
The house was quiet around us, everyone else asleep. The thick carpet muffled our footsteps as we climbed the stairs. The scent of pine from the massive tree downstairs followed us, mingling with the cinnamon and vanilla clinging to Emilia.
Closing the door, Emilia's head snapped toward me, and she grinned. Reaching for the buttons on her shirt, she undid them one by one until it was open. Slowly, she pulled it off and let itfall to the floor. "Here's how we're going to play this. You tell me what you know, and I will keep removing my clothes." She arched her brow and waited for my answer.
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "Are you seriously trying to seduce information out of me?"
"Is it working?" She tilted her head, that playful smile still on her lips.
"Maybe." I couldn't keep secrets from her when she was willing to strip for me. "Your father's been calling in favors to try and get enough people to mount a fight. Now take off your bra." I crossed my arms and waited.
"Oh, sir, you're so funny thinking you hold the power here." She laughed maniacally and crossed her arms, mimicking my posture.
"Power is a funny thing, isn't it?" I smirked, enjoying the banter. This was new, this lightness between us. A month ago, she would have demanded answers with cold fury. Now, she was playing with me, trusting enough to be playful even when discussing her father's attempt to kill her. "But let's not get distracted. Your father's allies are gathering, ready to make their move. And if you want to keep this little game going, you'd better start removing more than just your shirt."
