Chapter 3

Victoria

My eyes kept going back to my phone. Over and over again, every time my phone so much as vibrated with an incoming text or call, my heart would stop then race, before feeling the sharp clench of disappointment each time I looked at my phone’s screen.

It wasn’t him.

Why would I even think it would be? I had called Adrian less than a few hours after spending the most perfect morning with him, hurting over what my sister had learned about the man I knew I was more than half in love with. He had a secret, one I knew nothing about, but one that obviously meant we couldn’t have a future together.

Unless Anya was just trying to get me out of her brother’s life without causing too big of a mess in the process. Why else would she have called Scarlett and asked her to keep me away from her brother?

Fuck, I hoped that was the case. It was why I kept looking at my phone with a longing that was starting to cripple me. I ached for Adrian to call, to text, to put me right. To tell me that it was all a misunderstanding. That there was no reason, not one single thing, that stood between us.

So far, I had gotten a text from my cousin Allegra, and several from my brother. My grandmother had even called to check in, and to see if Scarlett and I were settling in at home all right after having been in Sicily for the last three years with her. Hell, I had even gotten a text from Dante, no doubt sent by mistake, probably intended for Scarlett. He was closer to her than me. Maybe not as close as Ciro was with her, but still, they both preferred her to me any day of the week.

I suffered through dinner with my family. Papa kept trying to pull me into conversation, but I pretended to have a headache, my excuse for the way I kept staring off into space for no particular reason, replaying every single moment I’d had with Adrian over the last two days. If Scarlett hadn’t assured him that I had checked my glucose levels before dinner, he probably would have thought it was my diabetes. For once I wouldn’t have minded using that to my advantage if it meant Papa didn’t look too closely into the reason I probably looked like someone had killed my best friend.

“I would appreciate it if you girls stayed home the next few days.” Papa finally succeeded in pulling my focus to him as the housekeeper’s assistant cleared away our main course dishes and proceeded to place the coffee on the dining table.

His tone had changed from doting father to that of the man used to having every order that left his mouth followed in precise detail. Heads rolled when things didn’t go the way he expected.

I tried to listen when he doled out warning, or suggestions that were really commands. But honestly, I rarely did what he wanted.

It wasn’t that I didn’t respect him enough, or love him enough. I just couldn’t live happily in a world where I was expected to smile prettily on the rare occasions I was showed off to my father’s associates, and then forced to live in some gilded cage for the rest of the time. Papa let me go shopping and participate in all the charities I loved to contribute to, but those were things people expected of me. As if I was too simple-minded to do or be anything but Vito Vitucci’s little doll that he let out of the house once in a blue moon.

Scarlett had never been one to just sit by and let our father—or anyone else for that matter—walk all over her as most people thought they could with me. She was so much like Papa. All she had to do was walk into a room and all eyes were drawn to her. She exuded a confidence and power most people overlooked in me, but I was okay with that. I liked that they underestimated me. It meant they weren’t looking at me when I planned an attack.

“Papa, it was just a stupid guy playing games.” Scarlett tried to dismiss the incident from earlier that day, though there was something in her eyes I didn’t fully understand. “I’m sure your men will deal with it.”

It could have been from what had happened earlier, or it could have been because of Ciro still acting like a jackass, punishing not only himself, but especially her from the supposed nobleness of staying away. She was used to Ciro, though, so I figured it was more the former.

Carlo Santino Jr., a man I assumed was a pest to Papa, was in town. For some reason, it had everyone acting like he was the boogieman. I had no idea who the guy was, but when he had approached Scarlett while she had been out earlier, it had gotten everyone’s underwear in a twist. Or so my twin had told me.

I had still been with Adrian when it had happened.

“Santino is good at games, passerotta,” our father told her, his face turning darker. “Just for once, please listen, yeah?”

She smirked at him over her cup of rich coffee. “I’ll try, Papa.”

He rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, but then gave her a tender smile that made my twin glow.

I loved the connection the two of them had, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little jealous. I knew Papa loved me, that I was special to him, but everyone knew Scarlett was his favorite.

I would never be able to hold a candle to Scarlett in his eyes. It wasn’t because I was somehow lacking when compared to my twin. We each had our strengths, and when put together, we could have taken on the world. No, my father’s affection was less when it came to me because I was so much like my mother.

Scarlett was blind when it came to the relationship our parents had once had. She thought Papa had loved our mother desperately, but I didn’t have the heart to set her right. We might have just been toddlers when Aslinn Vitucci had died, but Cristiano had confessed to me exactly how far from perfect our parents’ marriage had been.

They had loved each other, but they had hated each other just as much. I didn’t know how they had stood each other for so long to have had three children together, yet they had somehow made it work. Nevertheless, those same qualities Papa had both loved and hated in my mother, he now saw in me, and it had affected our relationship. We would never have a relationship as close as his and Scarlett’s, but I was okay with that.

“Victoria?” His tone was just as strong and lovingly gentle, but I wasn’t blind to the consternation in my father’s eyes. I was always on his mind, but it was with worry. Worry about my disease. Worry about me getting into trouble. I was pretty sure he was going to get an ulcer from all his worrying about me, if he didn’t already have one.

I gave him a full-on grin that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I will endeavor to follow Scarlett’s lead, Papa.”

His eyes touched lovingly over my face for a brief moment before he pushed his chair back and stood. “You girls will be the death of me one day,” he predicted as he came around to touch his lips to the top of my head before moving on to Scarlett.

He tapped her on the nose, something he did only with her. “Watch over your sister,” I heard him murmur to her before raising his voice to say goodnight.

“Goodnight, Papa,” I called after him, rolling my eyes at my sister who only took a savoring sip of her coffee, hiding her smile behind the mug.

No sooner had Papa left, Cristiano stood to leave us, as well. “I have an appointment,” he attempted to lie.

“Right.” Scarlett snorted.

“Sure,” I said with a nod. “Blonde, brunette, or redhead?”

He kissed my cheek. “Smart mouths, the both of you,” he grumbled, though I got a wink. “Goodnight. Love you.”

No sooner was he out of hearing range, did Scarlett stand, too. “I think I’m going to have an early night. Want to watch some mindless sitcom with me until we both fall asleep?”

Before I could really think about it, I was shaking my head. For some reason, I didn’t want the comfort of my sister’s company tonight. Didn’t want to soak up the love that we had for each other and let it heal whatever the hell Adrian had broken in me today. I wanted to let the pain fester, to relive every amazing moment I had spent not only in his arms, but especially the moments where we had just talked and gotten to know each other.

But … I hadn’t really gotten to know him, I realized as I followed Scarlett upstairs, each of us going to our separate bedrooms. I had told him about myself, almost everything except for my illness, yet we hadn’t talked about him even once.

I had been so caught up in soaking in simply being with him that I never once realized he might have kept me talking so he didn’t have to tell me about himself.

As I entered my room, my phone made an angry noise. Figuring it was either my brother or Allegra, maybe even Dante annoying me, I crossed to my bed and fell across it as I lifted the phone from my nightstand. If I had taken my phone down to dinner, Papa would have only sat and glowered at me until I took it back to my room.

Sighing, I swiped my thumb across the screen to see who had texted me. Seeing the name of the sender, my heart did a somersault in my chest. I jerked upright, my fingers shaking ever so slightly.

The screen was overflowing with so many messages I had to scroll down several times to finally get to the first one.

Come to me.

The first twenty or so messages were all the same, each sent less than a minute apart. Even though they were the same three words over and over again, I read each of them, picturing his darkly handsome face twisted with pain and anxiety that I hadn’t replied to him.

After the first twenty, the messages changed tone. I could imagine his face growing angry as his desperation to get me to answer intensified.

Come to me or I will come to you.

What the hell did that mean? He would come to me? He couldn’t come there. He didn’t know the layout, didn’t know the guards’ schedules. If he tried to get in here, he would be shot. I couldn’t let him do that. Couldn’t let him get hurt or killed because of me.

I rushed to the window, trying to see out into the darkness of the night.

He was reckless; I at least knew that much about him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he really did try to come for me.

Even as I worried for him, a thrill went through me that he wanted to see me so badly that he would risk getting shot to do so.

Dammit.

After watching for any sign of change outside for a long while, I turned angrily away and headed for my closet. There was no way I was going to go to him in the yoga pants and old T-shirt I was wearing. Fuck that. If I had to see him, then I was going to be dressed in something that would make him wish he could be with me. Something that would make him beg for my forgiveness and pray to God that he could have one more chance with me.

As I stepped into my favorite heels—a sexy pair of Jimmy Choo’s that screamed “fuck me,” or so Scarlett had described them when I had first bought them—two more messages came in rapid fired.

I lifted my phone, half-expecting him to tell me he was about to climb the damn wall outside the compound.

Victoria …

… please.