Instead, I focus on how handsome Vincent looks tonight. How hard he’s trying to be a polite host to my silly father. How he keeps glancing over at me.
To see if I’m happy.
And, I am.
When the evening ends, and the driver pulls up to the stone carriage house to collect my father, there are no tears in my eyes.
I love my father, but I belong here. I belong to Vincent.
I hug my dad. Hold him. Whisper in his ear how much I love him.
And then, I let him go.
As we watch the car leave, Vincent wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him and kissing my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, Bella.”
“Me too.” I couldn’t be happier, more at peace.
Later that night, as Sophia is helping me out of my gown, she does something that turns my world on edge.
She’s tired. I’ve told her I can manage, that she should go to bed. But she insisted. Told me that this gown will be ruined if it’s not hung up just so.
As she helps unfasten the row of buttons that runs down my back, she sings softly to herself. Interjecting whimsical remarks I think have nothing to do with me.
Then, she sings a name. One with which I’m vaguely familiar. Esmerelda Bianchi.
The same name as my grandmother.
As she unfastens, I pull the many pins from my updo. Listening.
She tells of a beauty named Esmerelda. Of a scorned lover named Ricardo.
One whose last name happens to be Russo.
Watching her in the mirror, I grab her hand, stopping her. “Sophia, what is that song you sing?”
She waves a strong but veined hand in the air, dismissing me. “Nothing, my love. Just nonsense.”
“But I know the woman you speak of. Esmerelda Bianchi. That is my mother’s mother. My grandmother.”
She freezes, a look of horror lighting her eyes as she stares back at me through the mirror. “A common name. It’s nothing, my love.”
“No, Sophia. It’s not. You said in your song that she scorned a lover. That she broke the heart of a Russo.”
She pulls her hand away from mine. “No. No. You’ve mistaken me.” She shakes her head like a dog after a bath, trying to rid herself of her words like droplets of water.
“I heard you…I…” I sense her sudden fatigue, her worry. And I drop the subject. “It’s nothing. Just a silly song. Right, Sophia?”
She rewards me with a bright smile of relief. A pat of my hand. Bidding me goodnight, she scurries away.
She leaves me. But her words don’t.
Why would she know the name of my grandmother?
And how is Esmerelda connected to the Russos?
10
Vincent
The breakfast Sophia is serving this morning is my favorite. She flutters about me, serving fresh melon, English muffins stroked with orange marmalade. Peppered eggs over easy. She’s more attentive than usual, calling me ‘sir’ every chance she gets.
What’s she gotten herself into?
The coffee never stops flowing.
She’s done something terrible.
When she comes round, offering to fill my already brimming coffee cup for a third time, I grab her arm, pull her toward me and whisper into her ear. “What is it, Sophia?”
She whispers back two words. “She knows.”
Then scurries from the dining room.
I let her go and take a longer look at my wife, who sits beside me. She’s not eating much, pushing her food around her plate with the prongs of her fork. Her gaze goes from the painting above my head, back down to her plate.
She’s avoiding me.
Sophia has slipped somehow. Maybe singing that silly song the village made up about my grandfather? The one detailing the story of the broken marriage arrangement.
It was never part of my plan to share that information with her. Especially now that I think…that I might be…falling for her.
I lay my fork and knife down, blade turned in across my plate. Sip from my coffee. Dab my lips with the cloth napkin in my lap. “Wife. You’re not eating. What troubles you?”
She startles, as if she’s forgotten she’s not alone. She gives an unconvincing shake of her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Brando shows up at the door. His face is set in stone. Not a good sign. But one that tells me I need to excuse myself and tend to business matters immediately.
I push back my chair. Stand. Lean down and kiss the top of my wife’s head. “Be good. I’ll see you at dinner.”
She offers me a tight smile.
It troubles me, this idea that Felicity knows why I’ve chosen her. But the glint in Brando’s eyes distracts me and I push my worries to the back of my mind. I’ve got more pressing matters to deal with. And no matter how she got here, no matter if she likes it or not, she’s mine.
But my gruff self-speak is convincing me of my power over her less and less.
I find myself waking in the middle of the night, fearing she’s gone.
I’m weak. She’s making me weak.
Brando and I walk side by side out to the veranda behind the castle. When we’re sure we’re out of earshot from the staff, he fills me in. “We’ve got trouble, boss. The arms shipment from the Bachmans hasn’t arrived. There’s a delay.”
“Where?”
“In the middle of the ocean.”
Damn. Not good. “Trouble from our end, or theirs?”
“Ours. Turns out John Romano is suspicious of the ship. He heard rumors of what’s on it.” He gives his head a frustrated shake.
The Romano family, our rivals, have grown wary of me. As they should. I’ve amassed great power and wealth in a short time. “John’s always meddling in my affairs.”
“He’s keeping an eye on us, for sure.”
“So what’s the hold up?”
“Someone tipped off the government. Told them there’s a barge headed this way with possible military grade explosives and weapons.”
“And?”
“We’re taking care of it.”
“Good.”
“Hawk has his inside men working with the International Trade Administration.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Let me get on a call with the Bachmans and see if there’s anything they can do on their end. In the meantime, I want the walls walked. Any sign of trespassing I want reported back to me.”
“Yes, sir.” Brando leaves me.
I enter my library. The dark wood, the smell of books, they calm my mood. I pour myself a coffee from the French press. Take a seat in a wing-back chair. And call Rockland.
He picks up on the first ring. “Vincent. Trouble in paradise?”
I give a laugh. “After visiting the Parrish, I believe it is you who lives in paradise, my friend.”
“Ah—my time is mostly spent at our Village in New York, but I enjoyed the excuse to go back. I’m sorry to hear you’ve run into problems with the shipment. Rivals?”
I heave a sigh. “Yes. Another family in the village getting involved, wanting to find out what we have coming to us. I don’t blame them; if the situation were reversed, I’d have my men all over their asses, and yet, I’ll kill them over it if I get the chance.”
“I hear that. I’ll see what I can do on our end to speed things up.”
“Thank you.”
“And take care of that lovely wife of yours. My Beauties were obsessed with her.”
“I don’t think they were the only ones with an obsession.” I think of my wife’s tan body lying over the reclining chair on the sundeck of the Aphrodite and her admirers. “I think she found admirers in some of your single Brothers.”
He gives a full laugh. “I heard you chased them away. Good for you.”
We say our goodbyes and I sit, sipping black coffee, waiting for an update.
Minutes later, Brando appears in the doorway. One glance at his face and my stomach sinks into my leather boots.
“Sir. We’ve
walked the walls. There’s an issue.”
“What have you found?”
“Tracks. Outside of the wall on the far side of the property. The soles of military grade boots.”
“Probably whoever’s holding up the arms shipment is spying on the property.” Fury rises in my chest. “How many men?”
“Ten? Maybe twelve.”
“They want to know what we’re preparing for.” Not enough to worry over yet, but worth checking into. “Signs of scouting?”
“Looks like it. Broken branches. Footprints stopping at the wall, then retreating. Seems like someone wanted to get a good look at our night guard.”
“Did you scour?”
He gives a curt nod. “Yes. Not a camera or piece of surveillance equipment left behind that we can find.”
The last thing we need is the Romanos knowing what we’ve got coming. What we’re going to be storing here. No need to fuel our enemy’s distrust and jealousies any further.
“Come, let’s take a look.”
We walk over the clean, grassy meadow. Walk the perimeter of the wall where the tracks were found. Brando hands me a set of scanning lenses. I hold them over my eyes, gazing over our lands.
I see nothing suspicious. Whoever was here has left nothing behind but footprints. I find the idea almost more troublesome. “Show me where you found the prints.”
We exit the rear gate. Walk along the edge of the forest to where the first boot marks were found. As Brando told me, there looks to be about ten sets of prints. All going up to the wall. Then turning back to the forest.
What the hell do they want? Why were they here? I walk back and forth over the tracks. “Bring me a ladder and a set of binoculars.”
Brando brings his phone to his ear. Murmurs my commands. Moments later, several of my men come running toward me, a tall ladder in hand.
I stand in the largest set of boot prints. Ice forms in the pit of my stomach when I realize what’s in the direction I’m facing. “Put the ladder here.”
They brace it against the wall. I grab the binoculars, sling them around my neck. Climb to the top of the ladder. Hold the lenses against my eyes and confirm what I’ve already suspected.
I’m staring straight into the window of Felicity’s bedroom.
The Romanos are watching my wife.
Blood rises in my chest. Whooshes by my ear. Hot and thumping.
But why?
I climb down. Hand the binoculars to Brando. Dismiss the men.
Fuck. What would they want with her? With only Brando at my side, I begin thinking out loud. “It doesn’t make sense. Why are they watching Felicity? She has no wealth, no connections. No power.”
“Hai torto.” Brando shakes his head. “You’re wrong.”
The first he’s ever challenged me. I take note. Find his gaze and hold it firm. “What do you mean?”
“That’s the way it is with women.” He gives a shrug. “You care for her. Deeply. Therefore, she holds all the power.”
Am I that obvious? Have I become so smitten, to let a woman hold power over me?
He continues. “It’s not just that.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What else?”
“When you care for someone, it creates a chink in your armor. Makes you vulnerable to your enemies.”
“How so?”
His eyes hold mine. “Because they know that you’ll do anything to keep her safe.”
They will hurt her to get to me.
I know this to be true. I knew it at the Parrish, which is why I kept her by my side. White heat flashes over my face. My insides burn and turn to dust. I raise my hand to stroke my jaw and as I do, there’s a slight tremor in my fingers.
More signs of weakness brought on by her. Get it together, Vincent.
Give my head a shake. “We will never let that happen.”
“We’ll keep her safe.” Brando gives me a long, hard look. Then, a tight nod. “As long as she’s in our walls, she’s safe.”
“Damn right she is. As a precaution, since someone has been here, double the night guards until we figure this thing out. And put two on her bedroom door. And a couple below her window tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” He gives a nod, leaving to do my bidding.
I leave the situation in Brando’s capable hands. I want to check on my wife.
Before Felicity, nothing distracted me from my work. Does this…infatuation…make me weak? Always thinking of her. Worrying over her.
Yet, when she looks up at me with desire in her eyes, I feel like the strongest man in the world. Invincible.
I reach the hall, but she’s already gone. Breakfast has been cleaned up and they’re setting the table for lunch. I go to the kitchens, the second time I’ve ever been in them, looking for Sophia. She’s drinking a cup of tea at a small table in the corner, by a window.
She looks up and sees me, horror flashing in her eyes. “Vincent! You cannot be in here. This is where the servants work. If you come here, when will I get a minute of peace?” Flying up from her chair with more speed than I’ve seen her use in a decade, she shoos me out of the kitchen.
When we are back in the hall, she stares at me, interrogating me between gasping breaths from her exertion. “Why were you in the kitchens? Were you looking for me?”
“I want to speak with Felicity. Instead of traipsing all over the castle, I thought I’d start with you.”
She pushes her glass up further on the bridge of her nose. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”
Breakfast. Esmerelda.
Sophia saying, she knows.
“Sophia. Tell me. What did you say to Felicity that had her so quiet at breakfast. What does she know?”
Pink rises in her cheeks. She smooths a flustered hand over her graying locks. “I may have been singing that silly song the village children used to sing about your grandfather.”
“The one about his lover scorning him?”
She nods. “I’m sorry. It’s so…catchy.”
“And Felicity heard you say her grandmother’s name?”
“I was tired. I wasn’t thinking.” She nods again.
“It must have upset her. To hear those things, but not be able to put the pieces together.”
Fear injects into my heart.
I am becoming weak.
I care too much for her and it’s clouding my judgement. Creating a chink in my armor. I swallow back my fears. “Fine. If she knows, she knows. She’s still my wife. Till death do us part.”
It’s time I tell her the truth. The whole of it. And tell her she will learn to live with it. Happily, or unhappily ever after.
I leave Sophia, heading to Felicity’s room.
I find it empty. An eerie feeling comes over me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Are my knees weak, my hands shaking? Or is that my imagination. Surely I’m not sliding into a state of panic over this. She’s probably walking the gardens.
She knows never to leave these walls without me.
Where is she?
I put out a call to my men, to the staff. I want every eye looking for her.
But I won’t wait to hear if they find her. If she’s in the walls, she’s safe.
If she’s left these walls…
I can’t bear the thought of her unprotected.
And in this terrible moment, I am faced with my true self. I can no longer live a lie. She has made me madly, utterly, and completely weak.
Because now that she’s missing, I’ve lost my heart. The breath in my lungs. My mind, my cool, my confidence all begin to slip away.
How foolish of me to put that crown on her head. To humiliate her. To push her from me.
I’ve fallen for her, my precious wife, and now she’s in danger.
I’m going after her.
11
Felicity
I pull the cloak further over my hair, shielding my face. I’m elbow to elbow with the night cleaning crew. They live in the village, and co
me to the castle to scrub and polish while we sleep. They leave after breakfast.
They’re chatting happily, tired, well fed, and eager to be home to their beds. No one pays me any mind. I’m just one of them.
We pass by the guards at the wall. Luckily for me, the guards seem distracted this morning, harsh whispers passing between them. A few stop to listen to their watches, then disappear into the turrets.
It must have something to do with the reason why Brando came to the dining room and Vincent left breakfast so quickly. It works in my favor. I’ll be to the village and back before anyone has time to miss me.
I have to see my father. Only for a few minutes, then I’ll head right back home. I have to ask him about my grandmother. I have to know what the words in Sophia’s song meant. And I know I’ll get no straight answers at the castle.
Our little group makes it through the gates. The soft leather soles of my boots crunch over the dry gravel road. Boots Vincent chose for me before I arrived. Guilt edges its way into my heart, but I’ll be so fast, he won’t have time to miss me.
We disperse down different lanes, headed to our homes. In my case, my father’s home. I walk quickly, but not so fast I draw attention to myself.
No one can know I’ve left the castle. If Vincent found out I’d disobeyed him, that I’d left the walls without him…a shiver runs down my spine at the thought of his anger.
Of what he might do to me.
Hiding my face is more difficult than I’d anticipated. It’s a small village and I know almost everyone by name. I keep my head down, scurrying along the lane.
Finally, I reach Main Street. Shops come into view. The crowd thickens, helping me achieve my goal of reaching my father’s store undetected.
I hurry down the back alley. Up the back stairs to our apartment over the shop. When I open the door, the familiar scent of home reaches me. Basil and lemon. I’m hit by a wave of nostalgia.
Not much has changed. I’m pleased to see he’s kept the place tidy. I check the fridge and see that he’s eating well—it looks like some of the local widows have been dropping off pastas dishes.
I’m running out of time.
There’s no way I can speak to him in the busy store. I’ve got to get him to come up here.
Dark Crown: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals Book 1) Page 11