Page 14 of Thorns of Death
“Well, he was hot.” Okay, that didn’t say much. “He was tall. Dark hair, dark eyes. Slightly older. Strong jaw. Beautiful mouth.” Reina giggled, but she didn’t stop me. “Tiny bit of gray over his temples. But it only contributed to his persona, you know? Honestly, I have never seen a man so well dressed, aside from Illias.” I mentally slapped myself, because I forgot the most important part. “Oh, and he’s a cheater. I woke up naked to his wife staring me down.”
Reina’s expression turned puzzled. “Well, I was going to say with certainty that’s Enrico Marchetti until you made that last statement. His wife died years ago.”
“Well, I slept with a different Enrico, then. The married one.” I drew my hand through my red curls. “It was amazing, Reina.” My voice lowered a few notches, turning into a whisper. “This guy… oh my gosh… He knew what he was doing. I lost count of the number of orgasms I had. But waking up to that scene this morning… yeah, it was bad.”
She didn’t look sold. “Isla, there was only one Enrico in attendance at the fashion show yesterday. Enrico Marchetti. Older, tall, about six foot four. Super dark eyes. Kind of moody, intimidating. Navy custom-made suit with diamond cufflinks. It was Armani, by the way.”
My mouth gaped as I stared at her in shock. Every piece of new information she gave me had me nodding my head so excessively I was worried I’d get whiplash. Well, everything but the Armani three-piece suit. I never got around to checking the label on it.
“Oh my gosh. I got laid by Enrico freaking Marchetti.”
Reina chuckled. “And he’s single. A father to two boys, but single.”
Single father didn’t bother me. Married man totally did.
I shook my head. “I’m telling you, Reina. The woman was his wife. She even showed me their wedding photo.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I can tell you is that there was a funeral for Donatella Marchetti. In fact, there’s kind of a sad tale going that the wives of Marchetti men end up dead. Killed. It goes back like four or five generations. It’s the reason why some of them refuse to marry.”
Good thing marriage wasn’t on my mind. Only sex. If only it was sex with a single man.
“Hmmm.” That made no sense. Maybe the woman photoshopped the image. After all, anything was doable in today’s day and age. “Do you have a photo of his dead wife?”
She shot me a wry look. “Yeah, I walk around with it in my wallet.”
I pushed her playfully. “Wiseass.”
Reaching to the side table, she grabbed her phone and pulled up Google. She typed, then typed again until an image came up.
“Here. This is her obituary.”
I took her phone into my trembling hand and my eyes widened. “That’s her!” My voice pitched higher. “Reina, this is the woman that was there. His wife.”
My best friend’s gaze darted between the screen and me, looking at me like I had lost my mind.
“She’s dead, Isla,” she whispered. “She couldn’t have been there. She was killed alongside Marchetti’s brother”—she looked down at the article again and read from the screen—“Enzo Lucian Marchetti.”
“Enzo Marchetti,” I murmured.
“Don’t forget his middle name,” she reminded me in a teasing tone.
“What’s with that name?” I muttered, shaking my head. Then I realized how little it really mattered. “Never mind about their fancy names. I’m telling you, this woman,” I said, pointing to the screen, “is her spitting fucking image. She was there this morning. Alive and well.” And crazy, but whatever.
None of this made any sense. I didn’t have a lengthy conversation with the crazy woman because I stormed out of there, slipping on my dress on-the-go. She screamed obscenities after me—in Italian—so IknewI saw her and heard her, yet the obituary was clear as day. She was dead.
My eyes skimmed over it once more. The death of Donatella Maria Marchetti, wife of Enrico Fausto Marchetti. Right next to it was the obituary for Enrico’s brother, Enzo Marchetti. I skimmed the date. He died on the same day as Enrico’s wife.
Reina took her phone back, her eyes skimming over the obituary while I tried to wrap my head around all of this. “It couldn’t be a sister, Donatella was an only child. Unless—” Her voice faltered and our gazes met.
“Unless?” I urged. She didn’t seem too keen on finishing her thought. “Reina, what are you trying to say? Unless what? Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
“Well, the Marchettis are known for their connections to the mafia. Some even say theyarethe mafia.”
My eyes widened. “I’m assuming you know this because of your dad?”
She nodded. “Of course, he thinks Phoenix and I are oblivious to it all.”
Men were just idiots. Plain and simple. They thought these types of things could remain hidden forever. Everything—fucking everything—eventually came out. Just as I knew the deed my best friends and I did to protect Reina would come back to haunt us one day.
