Page 15 of Reign of Fate

Bruto’s acting strangely around me and is treating me differently. We’ve always had a wonderful relationship. It’s not often you can say that you like your in-laws, but I truly did enjoy my conversations with Bruto and Sara. From the day Guido and I were married, they were great. They’d come and visit every week, and Sara and I would spend the afternoon cooking a nice dinner for the four of us. There would be times when his sister, Danilla, and her husband, Ruggero, would join us, and we would all have a good time.

Even Sara, my mother-in-law, isn’t calling anymore. I’m sure that Guido’s death hit her hard. Guido and his mother had a special bond, as most mothers and sons seem to have. Since the funeral, I’ve only heard from her once. I’ve tried to reach out and have left messages that have never been returned.

Perhaps their love for me ended when Guido died, or being around me dredges up old memories they can’t deal with. Either way, it hurts because I was closer to Bruto and Sara than I was to my own parents.

My parents are all about status and position. They were mortified when I insisted on marrying Guido. Mom thought that being tied to a crippled man was a horrific fate, especially since Guido released me from my promise. Dad had several other suitors who would make fine husbands, with working legs, as he put it. When I stood my ground, my parents made it seem like I was a martyr and doing Guido a favor by marrying him. It disgusted me then, and when I think of it now, it still angers me.

Since Guido refused to go to any social events and I wasn’t in their social world, I became their lost daughter, which suited me just fine. I think Guido saved me, and I told him so many times. With Guido, I got to be myself. I could laugh loudly, wear scruffy jeans, dig with my hands in the garden, and he would look at me and smile.

The only part of our relationship that upset him was that he wasn’t able to perform his husbandly duties. This caused him great anguish, and at times, it consumed him. At one point, he wanted to divorce me to free me to find someone who couldpleaseme in bed. He never used the wordfuckand always said a man shouldpleasehis wife. I cried to the point of making myself sick. That’s when he gave up on the idea, and we settled into our quiet existence.

We had a good marriage. We genuinely cared for one another, and that’s much more than most Mafia marriages have. I look around his bedroom now and wonder what on earth Ruggero was looking for. The only items I’ve taken from this room were the watches I bought him and the pictures of us he had displayed around the room. His clothes are still neatly in the drawers and closet. His bedside table is filled with his prescription medications, which I haven’t been able to throw out yet.

“He’s gone.” Ivo’s low, sexy voice jolts me from my thoughts as I turn to face him. He doesn’t look happy. He looks like he’s ready to tear someone’s heart out. “Did he hurt you?” he asks.

I force a half smile. “It’s nothing. Ruggero doesn’t know his own strength. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be so aggressive.” I’ve learned that soothing the beasts we call men is the best way to keep things under control. There’s no need for Ivo to get upset with Ruggero; it will only cause more strain.

He comes closer, then asks, “Why didn’t you call me?”

I blink, furrowing my brow. Why would I call him? He senses my confusion, and suddenly, I find him standing inches away from me. My heart lurches and my chest feels heavy. His fingers come under my chin, and his eyes search mine, like he’s trying to read my soul. It’s unnerving. I want to move away, but I can’t. I’m mesmerized by those dark eyes.

“You’ve never had anyone look after you, have you?” he says. I inhale deeply, holding my breath. “My Elisa has always looked after everyone else’s needs. Who’s been looking after you?”

“I…I don’t need anything.” I barely choke out the words, unable to concentrate as his palm cups my cheek. I lick my lips, averting my eyes, afraid that he’ll see what he does to me.

“All right, regina mia. I’ll let it go, this time.” He drops his hand, and I immediately want it back, but instead, I excuse myself, skirting around him and fleeing down the hall to the safety of my bedroom.

IVO

Elisa wants me as much as I want her. She’s conflicted, and I see the battle she’s waging with herself. She leans into my palm, her eyes drifting closed. But I’ve already seen the fire burning. This is not the time or place, so I do the right thing and let her go, leaving me standing alone.

Ruggero wanted to come into this room. Why? Everything is neat and tidy. I pull out each drawer and rummage through Guido’s clothes. Every drawer has his things in it. The closet is the same. There’s not a trace of Elisa anywhere in this room. I can understand her sleeping in another room, but to not even have one personal item in the bedroom that they shared seems odd.

I pull down a couple of boxes tucked away in the closet and look inside. Mostly mementos of his early years. The photos of a once virile man surrounded by his friends and family are hidden because Guido couldn’t look at them anymore.

Perhaps it’s my suspicious nature or sheer gut instinct, but I decide to check around the bed itself. I move my hands over the mattress and find nothing. The only place left to look is under the bed, and that’s where I see it: a small handgun strapped to the underside of the mattress. Guido was either expecting trouble, or perhaps just terribly cautious. After all, he was still considered part ofUltimoMorte,and they have many enemies

I grab the gun, tuck it in the back of my belt, and head back downstairs. Francesco is continuing to go through the library of books, but I see on the table that two other USB keys have been placed next to the original one.

“We’re done for the night,” I tell him. “We’ll start fresh in the morning.” I grab the three USB keys that we found and slide them into my pocket.

“Whatever you say,” Francesco replies. “What do you think is in them?” His gaze fixes on my pocket.

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.” I sigh. “What irritates me is that shit’s happening, and we didn’t have a clue about it. Raffaele is going to lose his mind.” Francesco nods. He knows Raffaele’s temper, and no one wants to be on the receiving end of that.

“We need men posted at the front and back of the house. I’m going to find Elisa and tell her. I don’t want her freaking out,” I say.

“Meet you back at the house,” Francesco replies.

He’s been on duty for twelve hours straight and needs to go home. I’m also aware that he won’t do that until Raffaele gives the go-ahead.

“Call Rafe. He’ll agree that you need to sleep.”

“Thanks,” Francesco murmurs. Yeah, the guy’s tired, but he never complains and never gives anything less than his best.

I go in search of Elisa and find her in the kitchen, dicing up tomatoes. I hear the sizzle and smell the aroma of fresh garlic and onion frying on the stove. Elisa adds the tomatoes to the mix, adding seasonings and stirring, all the while humming to herself.

“Smells good,” I say.

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