Chapter Thirty Six
Francesca
I miss our house in the suburbs as we stand together at the bathroom sink off Sal’s bedroom, brushing our teeth at the single basin.
He watches me in the mirror as he rinses his tooth brush and drops it back in the toothbrush holder. “What are you thinking about?”
I rinse mine and drop it in next to his. “Ethan’s house. I was just thinking I wish Adrian wouldn’t have ruined it.”
He wraps his arms around my waist, tugging me close and giving me a lengthy kiss. “How did he ruin it?”
My eyebrows rise and I just stare at him. I don’t want to bring it up, but isn’t it obvious how he ruined it?
“Oh,” Sal says, realization dulling the shine in his handsome brown eyes. “Well, sure, that wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t ruin the house. We can still buy it from him. I’ll probably have to sell this one since we don’t need two houses less than an hour away from each other. We’ll just remodel the living room. If that’s the house you want, that’s the house you’re getting.”
Shaking my head, I pull close to him even as my gaze drops to his bare chest. “I don’t want to start building our life in a place that has such an awful memory for you.”
He dips his head to kiss his way down my neck, murmuring, “I have plenty of good memories there already, and we’ll make so many more there won’t be room for that one.”
Pushing a hand through his dark hair, I gaze at him with undisguised concern. “I’m afraid it hasn’t really hit you yet. Sometimes it takes a few days for a tragedy to really sink in, and—”
Interrupting me, he says, “I really don’t want to talk about it. I’m dealing with it. I’m fine. I’m just not going to let it consume me. Yeah, it was sad and hard, but it was business. It was going to happen sooner or later with the shit he was pulling, it just had to happen a little sooner. Now, let’s go to bed and not talk about this.”
I take his hand and follow him to the bed, climbing in with him. I haven’t officially moved in—Mateo thought I should wait, though I don’t know what I’m waiting for—but I’ve spent the last two nights here anyway. Tomorrow we’ll have to go back to the mansion for family dinner anyway, then I’ll stay there since Dad’s funeral is Monday.
“I hope we don’t have to go to any more funerals until we’re old and gray. I don’t want to experience any more death,” I tell Sal, curling up beside him.
His strong arms encircle my body and he pulls me against his chest, kissing the crown of my head. “Yeah, I hope so, too.”
“What did you think of Mia?”
“I liked her.” He trails the tips of his finger along my arm, relaxing me. “I’m curious to see her around Mateo tomorrow. I’m still not sure I can get behind your twisted pairing, but I’ll keep an open mind.”
I smile sleepily, my head resting a little more heavily against his chest. “Meg will be there so I don’t know if you’ll see it. He moved the dumb maid into his bedroom. He makes bad choices.”
Chuckling lightly, Sal continues to caress my arm. “Yes, on that we can agree.”
I attempt a nod, but my head is too heavy. I tip my head on its side instead, yawning. “He needs Mia. She’s the perfect light, healing counterpart to his destructive darkness.”
“Preparing your wedding toast already?” he asks lightly.
“I like toast,” I murmur, almost unintelligibly.
“What?”
I pry my eyes open, but yawn again. “Oh, crap, I forgot what we were talking about. You said toast.”
Laughing in earnest now, Sal leans down and kisses me. “Go to sleep.”
I drape my arm across his shoulder, resting my face on his chest and closing my eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
---
I rarely volunteer to do drinks in the study, but I do tonight just so I can keep an eye on Mateo and Sal. I expect everything should be okay since Mateo does want peace, but it’s hard to trust when I know how much he hates people keeping secrets from him, and I kept a doozy.
Since he let me have Sal, I’m feeling excessively grateful tonight. Probably also a little because Sal’s mom was so awful yesterday, and I’m desperate for this dinner to go well.
Of course I serve Mateo first, but I also offer up a friendly smile as I hand him his drink.
He’s him, though, so this only makes him watch me like I’m up to something.
I don’t know who is supposed to be next, but I bring Sal a drink since I like him best. I lean in and steal a kiss, too.
“Dosing me, huh?” he teases.
I grin. “Obviously.”
Once I serve everyone, I make my way to Sal’s wing chair and sit on the arm. It’s strange to watch him sitting here, completely at ease chatting with Adrian, when we all know two days ago Adrian put a bullet in his dad’s head. It seems like he should struggle more with it. If my father mattered to me, I certainly couldn’t sit here across from the man I knew killed him, drinking scotch and making small talk. I guess I still don’t see Sal the way I see my family—when he’s cool and detached after what I know he’s experienced, it feels wrong. I know a different side of him, and this one is foreign. I didn’t want him to stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s almost unsettling how seamlessly he fits in with these guys.
He got to meet Alec tonight, but Joey hasn’t shown up yet. Dante won’t be here tonight, but since tomorrow is Dad’s funeral, he’ll be there. I am not looking forward to any part of tomorrow. Even though Dante doesn’t have a say, I know he’ll disapprove of my relationship with Sal. I feel bad for making Sal go with me. I’m tempted to tell him I’ll go to this one alone, since we do have his dad’s funeral coming up, too.
Mia comes to the study unexpectedly—it doesn’t take two people to do drinks, but apparently she’s just in here to tell us dinner is ready a few minutes early tonight. She sounds almost apologetic, since normally we have dinner down to a science, and not everyone has had a chance to finish their drinks.
I frown, getting up off the chair and approaching Mateo. His gaze lingers on Mia in the doorway, but it snaps to me when I remark, “Joey’s really late.”
The chatter behind me comes to an abrupt stop. I glance back, confused, and see everyone staring at me. I look to the doorway where Mia stands. Even she clasps her hands together and looks down, a shade paler.
Mateo clears his throat, then throws back what’s left in his glass. Placing it on his desk with a thud heard all through the suddenly silent room, he meets my gaze. My stomach reads the signs before my brain can get there and it rocks.
“Joey had a hand in the assassination attempt that resulted in Meg’s shooting. He told Castellanos where to find me that night.”
I can’t help frowning in confusion, then denial. My head is shaking, the desire to argue completely useless, but still present. “What? No, he wouldn’t… Why would he…?”
Mateo raises his eyebrows, glancing beyond me at Vince. Then he shrugs, looking at me again. “I couldn’t say.”
“Did you…?”
“He’s dead,” Mateo verifies.
I cover my mouth, but my legs are suddenly weak and I sink into the chair in front of his desk. Mia moves to the side as people start to trickle out, giving me a moment to grasp what they already know.
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, looking up at Mateo. “I don’t understand.”
Now that most of the room has been cleared out, Mia approaches, leaning down to place a supportive hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Francesca. I forgot you didn’t know.”
So much for tonight’s family get-together being better than the one yesterday at Sal’s mom’s. Sal comes to my other side, placing a hand on my other shoulder. It’s completely foreign to have this much emotional support, but it’s hard to enjoy it.
“How did he…?”
“You don’t want the details,” Mateo tells me, faintly shaking his head.
“I just… I don’t…” I don’t even know what to say, I just don’t know how to reconcile this. Joey is a laidback guy, not someone who would plot to have Mateo killed. He doesn’t even have a solid reason to. Sure, Mateo wouldn’t let him move back into the mansion once he got out of jail, but that was mostly a practical decision. He was still on parole, so Mateo wanted him to have his own space and not drag the rest of us into his legal troubles.
That’s not motive to try to take out your own brother.
The only person with motive like that would be Vince. Granted, Vince and Joey are best friends….
Were best friends.
I look back over my shoulder to see if Vince stayed behind with Sal and Mia, but he’s gone. Seeming to understand who I’m looking for, Mia lowers her voice—a pointless gesture since we’re all standing so close together, but she does it anyway. “Vince hasn’t taken it very well. I’m sure he just didn’t want to hear about it again.”
“Joey didn’t hate you,” I say, looking up at Mateo in utter confusion.
“But Vince does,” Mateo says simply.
Mia’s hand trembles slightly on my shoulder. I don’t know the details of all this, but I’m suddenly wary of reviewing them any further in front of Mateo. It’s too dangerous.
Briefly glancing at Mia, Mateo remarks, “I suppose he did it for Vince.”
That still doesn’t check out. Joey isn’t proactive enough to take up somebody else’s quest for vengeance.
Wasn’t.
God, I have to refer to my brother in past tense now.
My heart aches for Joey and for all of us. There shouldn’t be so much death.
“Did he even get a funeral?”
Mateo shakes his head no, but I already knew the answer. In a scenario like the one described, even though it makes no logical sense to me that it even happened, of course he wouldn’t get a funeral.
Something Sal said to me once floats to the front of my consciousness: I would ask if the bastard knows how many people it takes to keep him alive on a day-to-day basis, but he clearly does and that’s why he has you all trained like fucking monkeys.
Shaking my head faintly, I ask, “How many more people have to die to keep you alive, Mateo?”
Mia withdraws her hand from my shoulder, straightening to look at him. Sal’s grip on my shoulder tightens, a protective instinct. Mateo’s eyes are trained on me, and at least in this moment, I get the impression he understands how much he costs us all.
“Hopefully no more,” he says, simply.