Page 38 of Bitter Lies
I pull the official letter from the pocket of my suit jacket, folded in thirds, and hold it out for her. I watch the delicate artistic movements as she peels it back, removing the letter written in cursive from the confines of the envelope.
“As we expected,” I tell her while she reads. “He requests our presence at his manor tomorrow evening. He’s wasted no time.”
“Not our presence,” she corrects. “Mine.”
“And you are not stepping one foot over the threshold without me there. Outright war or not.” There’s no room to budge on the subject.
“It really is to be a war, then.” Her eyes scan the letter in the dim light from the garden lanterns and the stars overhead. “He’d really go on a murder spree because of me. Ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous if it’s your life on the line.” I step up and wrap my hands around hers when she starts to shake. “If you’re serious about this plan of yours, then it’s time for us to take action, and this is only the first of many steps. It’s a dance, and you have to be prepared. Keep your wits about you. Or we’re all going down with you.”
She lifts her chin up to meet my eyes. “I’m not going to back down, and I’m not going to get you killed, Ricardo. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
I’ve never wanted to kiss another person this badly in my life. My mouth waters for her, aches for her. A growl rises inside of me, and my skin is too tight, driving me mad.
If I don’t keep myself in check, then we’re all finished.
Done before we even start.
This control has to mean something. All the years of sacrifice have to mean something. Otherwise, what’s the fucking point?
12
ISABELLA
Long after Ricardo takes his happy ass out of the house, I stare at the ceiling memorizing the swirls in the plaster above my head. Unable to sleep and unable to stop the barrage of anxious thoughts attacking my mind like killer bees.
I can barely stand to be with myself.
Thank god Ricardo bolted; that’s all I can say.
One wrong move, and he’d see the absolute terror grating along my insides, threatening to bring me to my knees. When I’d been so close to breaking down, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull myself back up again.
Thankfully, he said nothing. He left with a warning to expect to hear from him tomorrow afternoon and to let the others know I’d be going out. Something about a believable excuse for my absence or some shit like that.
My family will want to know what’s going on, where I’m going, and with whom.
He’s so right.
Once he left, barely looking at me, I crawled back inside and up the stairs to my room, forgetting entirely about my victory at the dinner table. How it felt to be the one in power while I turned his world upside down in front of everyone.
He came in his boxers because of me.
Now, I have an entire night and part of the day tomorrow to worry about every little thing that can and probably will go wrong once we enter Drago’s domain tomorrow.
Lying on my back in bed, every position is uncomfortable, but my body isn’t the problem. It’s my brain. Unable to quiet, to focus, to slow long enough for me to even consider working on my heart rate.
Exactly what I wanted, I try to tell myself, a chance to prove I’m a worthwhile part of this family. That I’ll be of use to our business. Now I have the opportunity I’ve waited for, and I’m fucking terrified.
In the morning, there is only Mia and Lucia waiting at the small round table nestled against a wall of windows to the right of the kitchen.
“You look like absolute shit,” Lucia says, hiding half of her expression behind a giant cup of coffee.
“Yeah, I love you too.” I head straight for the pot they left on the warmer and pour the rest of it into a second mug, not as large as my younger sister’s, but enough to get me through the morning. My stomach gives an angry growl, and I wonder if feeding it will help soothe the beast or make it worse.
“Did you sleep at all?” Mia asks.
“No, these bags under my eyes are completely natural. You’d know.” I’m not in the best mood, and immediately, guilt washes through me, and I groan. “I’m sorry.”