31. Trilby

T rilby

My chest is about to burst with the breath I've been holding since Savero and Cristiano walked out of the room. I knew Savero wanted to see if I was telling the truth about not being attracted to his brother, but there was more at play here. Way more. And none of it makes any sense.

Who is Augusto, and why is Savero so pissed Cristiano went to visit him? When did Cristiano visit him, and why? Didn't he know Savero would be pissed?

Something is going on between the brothers. Something that involves the rest of the Di Santo family—not just the blood family, but the made one too. I have an uncomfortable suspicion Cristiano will forever be entangled in this world, whether Savero wants it or not.

My head spinning with questions, I lower myself onto one of the stools. Cristiano has gone. I just watched him walk out of this house without looking back once. I'm relieved he didn't, because Savero was waiting for a sign. It's almost like he wants a reason to screw over this deal so he can just walk into the port, rip the doors down, and take everything from my father without going through with the hassle of a wedding. Cristiano would be in danger too. Not that he wouldn't be able to defend himself—I've seen the darkness that glows behind his eyes. I know he'd kill before someone could kill him. But he was right to leave.

Still, that doesn't mean my heart hasn't cracked down the middle.

My throat aches from all the effort it's taking me to not cry.I take a few sips of water before realizing it isn't my glass. There's a small chip on the rim. That means Cristiano drank mine. Still, he pressed his lips to this one before placing it next to my hand and tracing the tips of his fingers across my skin. I bring it to my mouth again and hold it there, my lips touching the same spot as his, and inhale every last breath of him.

I don't look up until Savero walks back into the house. There's a look of morbid satisfaction on his face.

"You're either innocent of my suspicion or you deserve an Oscar for putting on quite the act."His presence seems lighter as he walks past me. "Not that it matters anymore. I don't think we'll be seeing my brother again."

My gaze follows him out, then I stare at the island. I can't show my true feelings—I'm balancing on a knife's edge already. If he believes for a second I'm lying to him, the deal with Papa will be off, and he'll simply take the port from under us. He'll ruin us all.

As his footsteps fade to black, my focus seems to move in and out, left to right.I hold onto the kitchen island even though I'm seated. "Lightheaded" doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. It would be more accurate to say if I were to let go of the counter, I'd pass right out.

"Savero, I ..." My voice sounds impossibly weak and too quiet for him to hear. I vaguely hear him leave the house and close the main door behind him, without another word or a backward glance.

Is this what it feels like to have a broken heart? To have all the blood drain from my head and my limbs? To ache in places I didn't know I could ache?

I lean forward and rest my forehead on the island. The surface is cool against my skin, but I feel even more dizzy for moving.

My shoulders hurt; my chest hurts. Everything hurts. Then a blissful darkness descends over every inch of me. I slip away from the dizziness and feel the earth beneath my body. Cool and firm.

Then my eyes drift closed.