by Mandy Rosko
But then Sebastian surprised her. “All right, fine,” he said. “I hate them because they’re spineless. I don’t hate Orlando, not really. He had it worse than I did, and that’s saying a lot.”
She didn’t understand, and it must’ve been clear on her face when Sebastian continued. “Right, of course. You know, for the short amount of time I lived with them, I still lived with them longer than you did. I saw shit in that house that would make you sick.”
Isla swallowed. She didn’t want to know. Not really, but at the same time, she did want to know. Everything about Arturo, his family, and that house enticed the twisted side of her curiosity. “Like what?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Like their bitch of a mother grabbing at Orlando’s ears and pulling on his hair until he bled, slapping him around while they stood there and didn’t do anything. She died the same year I showed up, but I still lived there with them for a couple of months before it happened.”
Isla’s heart lurched, and she thought of Orlando’s sweet face, imagined him as a child, being treated like that.
“I guess she hated him for being her husband’s little bastard. How many times do you think I watched my new brothers run to his rescue whenever that cunt decided to slash her brand new manicure down his skin?” Sebastian made an O with his hand. “Zero.”
“I…I didn’t know that,” Isla said, feeling sick.
She shook her head, banishing that ill feeling. “But wait, that doesn’t make any sense. Orlando’s a grown man now. He wouldn’t hang out with them if they were mistreating him.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes and shook his head, like even thinking about it disgusted him. “Who knows why he sticks around. I don’t think it’s for the money. We all got a payout when Vincenzio was put away, so that can’t be it. Maybe he’s just scared of being alone, or so used to being around them that he’s brainwashed. I don’t fucking know.”
Isla scratched the side of her neck. “Did she…did she ever hurt you?”
Sebastian smiled. It was the sort of smile that could only look more sinister if he happened to be holding a cigarette in his hand, which he wasn’t because it was a no-smoking zone. “She tried a couple of times. See this scar?” He pointed down the side of his throat.
Isla leaned closer. It was there, but she wouldn’t have noticed it had he not pointed it out.
“She always liked getting her nails done.”
“I’m so sorry,” Isla replied, feeling sick in her stomach again.
So it wasn’t just about his parents’ funerals. It was about being thrown into a new house and feeling alone as he and a new younger brother were abused.
That had to be why he was nicer to Orlando, or at least somewhat civil. He must’ve thought they shared a sort of kinship.
“God, I need a cigarette,” Sebastian said.
So her guess had been spot on. He was a smoker.
He continued. “She never got me a whole lot. I was bigger, knew how to get out of her path, but then one day—” he clenched his mouth and jaw “—I couldn’t take it anymore. She wasn’t hitting me or anything, it wasn’t like she had the chance to do that too often, but I could hear the sound of her palm slapping Orlando’s face. Like a crack in the air. And him, good boy that he was, just took it. He’d even started to get bigger, was taller than she was by then, but he still never laid a finger on her, which proves he is a better man than I am, even at that age.”
Isla’s eyes widened. “You didn’t…?”
“I ran over and slapped her back, yeah. Stop looking at me like that, she had it coming. Fucking child abuser hiding behind the fact that she was a woman and expecting no one to defend themselves.”
Isla suddenly had a whole lot more respect for his self control, considering that time she’d slapped him in Arturo’s house. He certainly didn’t hit her back. The situation must have really been extreme when he lashed out at Arturo’s mother, and Isla felt guilty, and sorry, for everything he’d been through.
He continued, unaware of her thoughts or her pity. “You should’ve seen the look on her face when I did it. Eyes wide and completely in shock. Of course, she immediately started to cry, couldn’t take what she’d been dishing out that entire time. She ran out of the room like I was the big bad wolf, and guess who immediately ran in to teach me a lesson for hitting their beloved mother?”
“I guess there’s only two people you could be talking about,” she replied with dread.
Arturo and Silvio.
Sebastian nodded. “Broke my nose and popped some of my teeth out between the both of them. I think they would’ve done worse if Orlando and the staff hadn’t yanked them off. Can you tell I wasn’t too broken up when Vincenzio killed her?”
He was smiling again, as if it was a happy memory.
Isla shivered, then swallowed. “I’m…I’m really sorry. For everything.”
Sebastian sighed. “Don’t apologize. You literally did nothing wrong. Fuck, I came here because I heard what Arturo had done. This wasn’t supposed to be about me.”
Isla bit her lips together. “Arturo has a scar on his side. Did he…was it from the fight?”
Sebastian frowned at her, then his eyes widened as he realized what she was asking. “What? Christ, no. How the hell would I have…” he trailed off, looking away as though trying to collect himself. He shook his head.
“Sorry,” Isla said quickly. “I’ve just seen it and—”
“He got that from Vincenzio, all right?”
Isla’s eyes widened.
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t there for it. All I know was that it happened right before the old bastard was arrested. I think Arturo confronted him about his mother. I’m not exactly on the best terms with my brothers so I don’t know all the details.”
Sebastian didn’t need to give her any. Isla’s imagination was running wild already, and the things she thought of were horrifying.
She then thought of the cameras Arturo had installed in his house. They just popped into her head, and after she’d almost forgotten about them. Was that why they were there? Had he installed them after the attack? As a precaution after what his father had done?
It seemed a little paranoid, but Arturo could be the overly careful type. The contract she’d signed was proof enough of that.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by any of this, the cameras, the lightning of the house, or Arturo’s scar.
A man who would kill his wife to save some money would probably attack his son, try to kill him, to keep from going to prison if Arturo finally lost it one day and confronted him about his involvement.
Sebastian shook his head. He looked tired. “This is so fucked. I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
Isla couldn’t believe it either. She looked at Sebastian. She really looked at him, and she was convinced that the person she saw was not violent, was not a monster, and was not even remotely bad.
He was just kind of mean and angry sometimes, mostly at his brothers, at his past, at all of it. Hell, he had every right to be angry. The fact that he was still able to lash out at Arturo and Silvio meant his brothers were still inviting him around. They wanted to make amends.
This was messier than Isla thought. If it had been anything like one of Jane’s romance novels, everything would be tied up nice and neatly in a clean bow for the happy ending.
That wasn’t going to happen. Some wounds stuck around for a long time.
She clenched her hands on the table. “I don’t know much about you or your family, so I know you’re going to take what I have to say with a whole lot of salt.” Not just a grain of it.
Sebastian grinned. “All right, let me listen to you defend my brothers, and then I’ll go. I guess it’s the least I can do for interrupting your coffee.”
Isla nodded, knowing she had to proceed gently. “Whenever I was in that house, no one ever really had any bad words to say about you. I didn’t even know about that thing with your stepmother until y
ou just mentioned it.”
Sebastian made a face. “Great.”
“No, really, hear me out. If Arturo and Silvio hated you that much, they would’ve talked about what a horrible woman abuser you are or something.”
Isla looked around when those words left her mouth, making absolutely sure no one could hear her. So far, no one seemed to be paying attention to the conversation, which was good. She knew perfectly well how just the tiniest accusation of something like that could ruin a man, innocent or not.
“I believe you when you say things were bad, and I honestly think you were justified. You have the right to defend yourself and your little brother, no matter who the attacker is. Sounds like she wasn’t all that hurt anyway. If you think I’m going to judge you for that, then you’re wrong.”
“Arturo and Silvio do,” Sebastian said.
Did that imply he cared what they thought? Or was she just projecting?
Isla shook her head. “I don’t think they do. To be honest, what little Arturo has said about his mother hasn’t exactly been the best.”
Sebastian lifted both brows.
“I mean, he talks about her like he misses her, but that’s his mother, you know? Other than that, he has said a couple of things that weren’t exactly…flattering.”
She hadn’t noticed it before, and had assumed Arturo was still angry and bitter, but looking back, when he’d explained why his father had killed his mother, because he didn’t want to pay her child support for us, or alimony for the rest of her life…
Well…words like that didn’t suggest Arturo’s mother had been the sort to walk away with grace, especially when her two children were nearly fully grown. Looking back, something about the way he’d said those words, as though implicating his mother of greed, of being the sort of women who would fight for those things in court, regardless of whether she needed them, had suddenly seemed obvious.
It wasn’t an excuse for what happened to her, but some more things were now clear.
“Arturo and Silvio treat Orlando well. I think they just…had to grow up, get older and realize for themselves what was happening. And Orlando has never said anything bad about you either, aside from the fact that you’re angry. I think Arturo and Silvio did grow up since all that happened. I think they want you to be their brother.”
She didn’t know what else to say. Her words already had virtually no impact if the look on Sebastian’s face was anything to go by.
But then he nodded. “Thanks for the chat. It was…educational.”
He got up from his seat.
“Will you call them?” Isla asked. It wasn’t like it was remotely any of her business, but she wanted Sebastian to feel better, even if it was for selfish reasons, like for the sake of Arturo and the happy ending she always wanted at the end of the story.
Sebastian barely glanced down at her. “Are you going to call Arturo?”
Isla’s breath caught, and she looked down at her sketchbook. Heat flushed her cheeks.
“That’s your answer,” Sebastian said. “Good luck with the business, Isla. It was nice meeting you.”
He walked away.
42
Isla sat there in her chair for a long while after Sebastian left. She just stared down at her sketchbook, hardly able to move.
What Sebastian had said got her thinking. Why shouldn’t she call Arturo? Why shouldn’t she make the first move?
It wasn’t like she would be doing anything wrong if she did call him. At the very least, it could buy her some closure if he said he didn’t want to meet with her.
How could she hope to give Arturo, Orlando, Silvio, or even Sebastian any hope of closure if she couldn’t give it to herself?
And okay, yeah, she was trying to find some noble angle to give in to what she was thinking about doing. It was an excuse, but she was rolling with it. She did want Sebastian to contact Arturo and Silvio, but if she couldn’t do it when she was suffering from a broken heart, how could she expect Sebastian to when he had years of turmoil and bitterness under his belt?
Isla pulled out her phone and opened her contacts list. She stared at Arturo’s number. It felt like it was the first time she’d looked at it in weeks.
It kind of was. She’d thought she was getting over him, but that conversation with Sebastian had brought everything all back, and now, staring at his name and number, those gloomy feelings intensified.
Isla’s thumb hovered over the call button for about five seconds before she tapped the message button.
She was going to chicken out and send him a text.
So sue her.
It was a simple text, and she read it over a couple of times before gathering her courage and hitting send.
Hey, how r things? Business is great. Wanted to thank you for that :)
Nothing strange about that at all. Nothing that showed any hint of pathetic desperation that would come from an ex.
She settled her phone back down on the table with a sigh, feeling pretty pleased with herself now that the ball was in his court. He could choose to respond, or say nothing at all.
It might even take him a couple of days to reply with his insanely busy schedule.
Isla opened her sketchbook and decided to finish coloring in her design, riding that small high when the screen of her phone lit up as it vibrated with a message.
Isla tensed, then pulled her phone forward.
From Arturo. Already. No fucking way.
And why was she shocked?
That’s great to hear. So glad everything’s working out.
He texted her with proper grammar. At least it looked proper. It was definitely better than what Isla and Jane sent to each other.
The problem was, there was no opening in what he’d sent her. His response seemed closed off, not inviting any sort of reply back that could start up into a conversation.
That could just be because he was in a meeting. He was a billionaire businessman. They spent a majority of their time in meetings.
Isla would send another text, just to let him know that she’d received and read the one he’d just sent.
Really appreciate what you did. Isla worked to keep her text from looking like a fourteen year old was typing it. I saw Sebastian today. He seems better. Wanted to wish me luck with the business.
She sent the text before she could really analyze what she’d said, so eager to say anything at all.
Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to mention she’d seen Sebastian. Of course, she had said that he was better, but better from what? He wasn’t suffering from some incurable illness.
Arturo’s reply was quick.
He didn’t bother you, did he?
Shit. Isla didn’t want Arturo thinking Sebastian was harassing her or something. Not after the conversation they’d had.
She replied quickly. No, it was a good conversation.
She sent the message off, hesitated, and then quickly typed out another. Do you want to meet for a coffee?
She told Arturo where she was, then waited.
After five minutes, she was convinced he wasn’t going to reply, that she’d stepped over the fragile little line that had been right in front of her.
She told herself not to be disappointed, that it wasn’t so bad. It was just the way things were going to be.
She pretended the lump in her throat wasn’t there, and that she couldn’t hear the sound of her heart beating in her ears.
Then her phone buzzed. She almost didn’t look at the message, but then reminded herself that ripping off the Band-Aid was better than slowly peeling it away and prolonging her pain.
So she looked.
I’m on my way.
Isla’s heart lurched into her throat. He was coming? Now? He was actually going to be here?
She looked down at herself, checking her dress and her lap to make sure she hadn’t gotten any stains on it from the coffee or pencil shavings.
It was fine. She looked clean and her nails were okay. She pu
lled her purse up onto her lap and rummaged through it for her makeup bag.
She unzipped the small black case, pulled out her pocket mirror, and reapplied her lipgloss and fluffed her hair before rolling her shoulders.
She had to relax. She was going to make herself sick if she didn’t calm down.
But Isla couldn’t calm down. She hadn’t actually thought he’d be able to come. She thought he’d be stuck in a meeting, or have other responsibilities to take care of, like golf. Rich guys played golf with each other all the time. Wasn’t that how they networked with each other?
And then she waited, feeling kind of dumb for quickly primping herself like that. He was back at Calendri Corp, and there would have to be lunchtime traffic on the way over here. It would take him at least an hour to get here.
So she was shocked when, twenty-five minutes later, she spotted him walking through the glass door to the patio. It seemed he didn’t even need to look around. He spotted her instantly at her table by the corner of the black gate, their eyes locking across the many other tables between them.
Every bone in her body tensed and tightened. Her muscles bunched up, and her stomach clenched painfully with the feeling of inadequacy. He was so handsome, so perfect, and she’d been sitting there in the sun coloring in her book.
She hadn’t primped enough. There was no way she looked good enough, not when he looked like that.
Another standard black Italian suit, but he rocked it like, well, a billionaire.
His wavy hair was tied back in an elegant ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore no tie today. Maybe he’d taken it off before coming into the coffee shop, as though he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself. His gold cufflinks were gone as well, giving him more of an expensive business-casual appearance that was too damned attractive.
He smiled, and Isla’s insides melted.
She’d heard people use that description before, and she had even thought she’d experienced it herself a time or two.