Her Dark Melody

by Michelle Love

  She nodded. “Although, I’m very rusty. I need to practice more than I have been. It’s hard to find the time with work being so hectic.”

  “We should get you a piano here,” Jackson said suddenly. “Then you could practice here, and maybe I could see more of you.”

  Ama didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he being friendly or setting a trap for her?

  “That might be a solution,” she said carefully. Jackson gave a nod.

  “Consider it done.”

  Ama exchanged a glance with Olivier. She hated that every conversation she had with her husband was loaded, making her feel tense and jumpy. She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  “You okay?” Olivier, of course, was the one asking, and she smiled at him.

  “Just tired.” From fucking your glorious half-brother, she wanted to scream at Jackson, but then she felt remorse. Maybe her own attitude wasn’t helping the marriage. She wasn’t going to go soft on him …but she could make an effort to be friendlier. Was she so scared of leading him on?

  Yes.

  The thought of Jackson making love to her made her want to vomit. He had bought her, for chrissakes. That wasn’t love. That was possession. Ama felt sick and pushed her chair back.

  “Forgive me, Olivier …Jackson. I really am tired. I think I’d better go lie down. Will you excuse me?”

  “Of course.” Olivier stood as she got up and kissed her cheek. “Get some rest, honey.”

  She smiled at him gratefully and thought, if I weren’t already falling for Enda, it would be so easy to love you, you sweetheart of a man. She glanced at Jackson.

  “Goodnight, darling,” he said in an even tone. She nodded.

  “Goodnight, Jackson.”

  The next evening, when she returned from work, a Bösendorfer Imperial Concert Grand piano was waiting for her in the drawing room. Ama couldn’t believe it. She sat down on the stool and ran her fingers lightly over the keys.

  “I hope you like it.”

  She turned to see Jackson in the doorway, watching her. She cleared her throat. “It’s too much.”

  “No.”

  He walked over and pulled up a chair next to her. “Ama …we have gotten off on the wrong foot. I know you don’t love me, and I’m not saying that I’m in love with you. But I want the chance to be. At least the chance to see if we can make this work. I’m not under any illusion that you won’t file for divorce the moment the contract is up. But maybe we could enjoy these two years.”

  Ama considered his words. “Jackson …I don’t want to live in a house of misery, where I’m afraid to sleep with my door unlocked. Let’s get one thing straight. I will never, ever sleep with you. Ever. But if we can put that aside and tolerate that …we could try to be friends. Companions. If you need sex, feel free to look around. There are plenty of open marriages.”

  Careful now, she told herself, don’t give him any reason to suspect you. Just because your brain is still frazzled from having Enda Gallo’s cock buried deep in you this afternoon …careful.

  Jackson’s expression was carefully composed. “Fine.” He got up and walked away from her, and she sighed. The house was too quiet tonight. She went to her room and locked the door behind her. Had she done the right thing? Or had she aroused his suspicions, which would make sneaking off to the apartment much harder?

  Ama reached into her purse and pulled out the burner phone. She had been about to put it on her desk at work before she left, but something told her to take it home. She wanted to know that she could talk to Enda whenever she wanted. That she could hear his voice. This afternoon she had spent another blissful hour in his arms, but they didn’t have time to actually talk or to find out about each other in the stolen moments they spent. Not that she was complaining …her lover had ravished her body, leaving her shivering with pleasure.

  She smiled at the memory and went to draw a bath.

  Enda Gallo went back to his hotel. He knew he could stay at the apartment he had rented, but every time he went there increased the chances he would be recognized and that his cover would be blown.

  And, besides, without Ama in his arms, the place seemed lonely, echoing with the memory of her. At least at the hotel he could distract himself and get some work done. Back in Italy, his property business had taken him years to build, but now he was about to form a partnership with his friend, Raffaelo Winter, to open a chain of boutique hotels around the world.

  He called Raffaelo at home in Naples now. It was eight a.m. in Italy, and Raffaelo picked up straight away.

  “Ciao, Raff.”

  “Hey, ciao, my friend.” Raffaelo sounded relaxed, and Enda guessed that he must be at home with Inca, his gorgeous wife of almost ten years. Enda had met Inca soon after she and Raff had become engaged and had been devastated when she had been stabbed by a jealous stalker. Enda had tried to be there for Raff as much as he could during her recovery and the time they had spent together had only strengthened their bond. People remarked on their physical similarities, but Enda had laughed off the suggestion they could be related. His mother, his dear mother, had passed away only recently, and it was due to Raff and Inca—and Raff’s twin brother, Tommaso—that he hadn’t felt entirely alone in Italy.

  He chatted easily with his friend now before Raffaelo told him his news. “We’re coming to the States soon. Inca wants to visit her friend, Olly, in Seattle, so we thought we’d do that and then come down to SF. Sound good?”

  Enda was overjoyed. “God, man, yes. How soon can you come?”

  Raff laughed. “That bad, eh? Well, we’re flying to Seattle this Friday, staying for a week, and then down to you. So, ten days? We don’t have any restriction on time, so we can stay as long as we’re welcome. Bo is performing at Pride, then doing a couple of nights at the Fillmore, so Tommaso and their vast brood will be there too.”

  Enda grinned. Tommaso had fallen in love with singing superstar Bo Kennedy at Raffaelo and Inca’s wedding—or just after—and between them, they now had seven kids: five of their own, Matteo, Tommaso’s son, and Tiger, Bo’s teenage boy, both from previous relationships. They divided their time between Italy and the United Kingdom and so they were rarely in the US.

  Suddenly Enda wanted to tell Raffaelo about Ama—about how much he cared for her and thought about her all of the time. He so desperately wanted to introduce her to his friends. Maybe there was a way …

  “Hey listen, before you go, I wanted to float an idea to you. I know we said on the next project we would concentrate on hotels, but how about we look into building music schools for the less privileged? Jackson’s new wife,” he almost choked on those words, “Amalia, is a classical pianist and tutor, and she got me thinking maybe there’s a new outlet.” He knew he was rambling now. “Anyway, just something to think about.”

  “Of course. I like the idea of that. Let’s talk when I’m in town. Maybe we should meet Amalia.”

  Enda punched the air silently, grinning. “Definitely.”

  When he had ended the call, Enda went to shower, then got into bed. What he would give to take Ama to meet his friends as his partner. Two years, he said to himself. Two years and she’ll be free, and then I’m going to marry that girl.

  The thought brought him up short. Marriage? Wow. Marriage had never been something he had aspired to or wanted, but with her …with Ama … well, damn.

  His phone bleeped, and it was with delighted pleasure that he recognized the number as Ama’s burner phone.

  Missing you. Thinking only of you.

  Enda smiled and tapped out a reply.

  I wish you were with me right now, Bella.

  Me too, gorgeous. Sleep well.

  Enda brought up the subject of the music schools at dinner with his family, careful not to give away that he and Ama had already discussed it earlier that day, when they had spent a blissful afternoon in his apartment, screwing each other senseless and talking. They were learning so much about each other in those preci
ous hours. Enda discovered that, despite her great beauty, Ama hated to be judged on that, and preferred to be complimented on her brain or her humor. That underneath her almost regal presence, she was, at heart, a book nerd, an art lover, and someone who declared she would be unable to live without music. Not just classical, either, but rock, and cheesy pop songs—and Johnny Cash.

  Enda found himself opening up to her about his family—or lack of it—until Olivier came to find him. “I never knew they existed,” he admitted, and then grinned at her. “And in the end, I got the best and the worst of brothers. I love Olivier. He gave me a way to know my father, and he’s been nothing but supportive. I even suspect if he had known about us, that he would have been our biggest cheerleader.”

  Ama smiled at him. “I was thinking the same thing, actually. Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea to clue him in. I would hate to put him in an awkward position.”

  “Agreed.”

  So, now, as they all sat around Macaulay Gallo’s vast dinner table, Enda made sure he didn’t make eye-contact with Ama when he told them his and Raff’s ideas.

  Jackson made a scoffing noise. “Really? Where’s the profit in that?”

  Enda looked at him coolly. “I would think, in your position, that you would see that money isn’t everything. How many more billions do you need, Jackson? Isn’t it time you gave something back?”

  “Didn’t I just broker the deal that saved Amalia’s sister from an abusive marriage?” Jackson grinned at his wife, who stared back in dislike.

  “I don’t think that’s what Enda meant,” she said softly. She turned to her lover and tried not to show in her face how much she felt for him, “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Schools all over the country are having their funding for the arts cut to almost nothing. They’re forcing the kids to focus on science and math and disregarding the kids who were born to be artists, actors, musicians. It’s just wrong.”

  Enda smiled at her. “Maybe you should come along, meet Raffaelo, and be our consultant on the inside.”

  “Love to.” Ama hid a grin, obviously realizing what he was up to, but Jackson cleared his throat.

  “I don’t see why that would help.”

  Ama turned cold eyes on him. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”

  Enda saw the anger in Jackson’s eyes. His father did too, apparently, because Mac changed the subject hurriedly. “Jackson, I was going to ask you. I got a call today from that interior designer you told me about. She was under the impression that you have arranged for some work to be done.”

  Jackson nodded. “I have. All of the bedrooms, except yours, Dad, because I know you’ve just had it remodeled.”

  “Excuse me?” Amalia looked bemused. “All of the bedrooms?”

  Jackson nodded, his smile smug. “Yes, darling, all of them. I thought we could take a penthouse at a hotel while the work is being done.”

  Ama flushed angrily, and Enda narrowed his eyes at his brother. He was trying to force her to share his bed. Asshole. Ama picked up her wine and sipped it casually. “A single room will be okay with me. Or I can stay with a friend.”

  There it was. In the open. With those simple words, Ama had outed the sham of her marriage to both Olivier and Macaulay. If she had shouted, ‘I’m not sleeping with Jackson,’ at the top of her voice, it couldn’t be more obvious. Enda watched Jackson’s face turned from red to purple and suddenly felt afraid for Ama. He knew of old what Jackson’s temper was like.

  Penelope …three years ago, she had borne the brunt of Jackson’s temper and what had happened had scarred everyone …

  Three years ago …

  Enda took a slug of whiskey and turned back to the party. He hated these things, but his father, Macaulay Gallo, who he couldn’t get used to calling ’dad’ yet, had insisted.

  “If you want to be part of this family, Enda, you must see how we operate.”

  He had meant it kindly, but it struck at the heart of Enda’s misgivings. He hadn’t yet decided that he wanted to be part of this family. It had been four years ago when Olivier had found him, and since then, he had grown close to his older brother, but his father was still distant. The youngest Gallo son, Jackson …Enda had loathed him on sight.

  He looked over to him now and saw him standing with his girlfriend, Penelope. They were obviously having some sort of argument, Jackson berating his girlfriend for some slight he perceived she had made.

  Penelope was a lovely young woman. With caramel-colored hair and dark blue eyes, she was the head of a local charity. Her family was old money, but Penelope worked tirelessly to help others. What the hell she was doing with Jackson, Enda had no clue.

  It was two days later, in the city, that Enda had seen her meeting with another man. From the delight on his face—and hers—they were obviously in love. Enda was glad. Penny looked radiant as she talked with the man. Good, Enda thought. Jackson can go fuck himself. You go for it, Penny. He had intended to just walk away, but she suddenly spotted him and the color drained from her face. Enda cursed to himself, then walked over.

  “Hey, Penny. Hey there, I’m Enda Gallo.” he smiled at her companion and shook his hand.

  “Danny McNamara. Would you like to join us?” The young man looked uncomfortable. Enda hesitated, looking at Penny. He didn’t want to be rude. Penny nodded tightly.

  “Just for a minute, then I have to be going.”

  They sat, and Penny explained who Enda was. The young man, Danny, nodded.

  Enda couldn’t bear the tension. “Look, I just wanted to say. I’m glad. You both look so happy. Hell, I’m delighted for you, Penny. You have my word; Jackson will not hear of this from me. Fuck him.”

  Danny looked relieved and Penny looked close to tears. She put her hand on his arm.

  “Thank you, Enda.” She sighed, wiping away her tears. “I tried to finish it with Jackson …he won’t accept it. He just cuts me off. I can’t do it anymore, Enda. He’s …abusive. He cheats constantly. And he …” She broke off and shook her head. Enda and Danny exchanged a concerned glance. Penny didn’t have to say anymore. That Jackson beat her was obvious.

  “You don’t have to worry about it anymore, Pen,” Danny said.

  Enda nodded. “Is there somewhere you can stay while he gets the message?”

  Penny nodded, looking over at Danny. “We’ve just bought an apartment in Palo Alto. He’ll have no clue we’re there.”

  A week later, Penny had called Enda in hysterics. “It’s Danny. He was in a hit-and-run. Oh god, oh god, they’ve taken him to the hospital, but it’s bad, Enda, so bad. I know it was Jackson …please, can you come?”

  He raced to the hospital, but it was too late. Danny was pronounced dead on arrival, and Enda had to help a hysterical Penny while processing his own shock. Was Jackson really capable of murder? He didn’t want to believe it, but something in his half-brother’s make up made him think he would be. A month later, his worst fears were realized.

  A still-grieving Penny left her office just after eight p.m. and went down to the parking garage. She got into her Mercedes and was distracted by her phone ringing. She smiled when she saw who was calling.

  “Hey, Enda, how are you?”

  “I’m okay, sweetheart. I was just thinking about you. How're things?”

  “I …”

  Penny never got to tell him. From her backseat, a masked attacker pounced, one arm curling around her neck. When she grabbed at his arm to try and prize it free, he drove a knife into her stomach again and again. Penny screamed until she could no longer breathe when the blood loss and shock grew too much. Her killer was savage and merciless, stabbing her again and again until she slumped in the seat. In her last moments, she could hear Enda screaming her name and the final whisper of her killer.

  “Jackson Gallo wants you to know—nobody leaves him.”

  With a last thrust of the knife, he stabbed Penny in the heart and ended her life.

  Enda would never forget that night. The sound o
f a defenseless woman being brutally murdered …and the worst thing was, in the midst of it, Jackson had walked into the room where Enda was with a triumphant look on his face, and Enda knew, for sure, his half-brother was a murderer. Enda flew across the room and punched him, the brothers rolling around until Olivier pulled Enda off Jackson. Enda stormed out of the room, calling the police as he got into his car and sped to Penny’s office. He got there just as the police arrived. He would never forget the sight of Penny, slumped in the driver’s seat, covered in blood. She had been butchered. That much was obvious. Enda had no compunction in telling the police everything he had heard and that he thought Jackson was behind the murder.

  Jackson was questioned about Penny’s murder, but never arrested or charged. There was simply no evidence against him. Penny was buried, at her request, next to Danny, but at her funeral Jackson played the part of the grieving boyfriend perfectly. Staggered by the lack of justice wrought by Jackson’s position and billions, Enda was repelled by him and had left the country. He’d stayed away from his family since then—even Olivier, who he adored. Olivier had finally flown to Italy to plead with him not to abandon him and Mac, just because of Jackson. It had taken some persuasion, but finally, Enda agreed. When Olivier told him, a few years later, that Jackson was marrying Amalia, Enda couldn’t help but feel a chill go down his spine.

  When he found out the circumstances of the marriage, the arrangement, and the coercion of Amalia Rai to marry Jackson, Enda had felt the shock keenly. Enda determined then to go to the wedding and make sure that the signs weren’t there—that Jackson had finally fallen in love for real.

  He had been disappointed, but not shocked, when he saw in his younger half-brother the same possessive contempt that he had shown Penny. Amalia was there to be his property. Enda was pleased to see that Amalia hadn’t been as subservient as Jackson would like, even on her wedding day. And when he, Enda, had made love to the beautiful bride in the garden just hours later, he’d seen her strength.