Page 153 of Thorns of Death
“It was Donatella’s family,” I said weakly. “They were killing the Marchettis’ wives. For revenge. Your family—our family—isn’t cursed.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “How do you know?”
“Donatella admitted to it,” I rasped. “I’m not even sure if she was as crazy as much as she was consumed by revenge. Mad with it.” I inhaled a deep breath, then continued, “And I think Sofia knows or suspects your true identity. I didn’t confirm it,” I murmured, shaking my head. “I didn’t tell her anything.”
His forehead came to rest against mine. “Donatella’s gone now. Don’t worry about Sofia. We’ll catch her, and then she’ll pay for her sins. I just want you and our family safe.”
I let out a sigh. I couldn’t agree more, but our family included my brother, and it was high time I cleared those waters.
“I want to talk to my brother,” I murmured. “Alone.” His shoulders tensed. He knew it was impossible for him to stay glued to my side. Manuel had visited me. He looked like shit. He needed help—needed Enrico back—but he didn’t want to ask that of my husband, knowing he’d sacrificed a lot already. “You could check on Manuel.”
Enrico lifted his head. “He’s fine.”
“I know, but he needs your help. Maybe Enzo can help with some of it too.” He tilted his head pensively. “I can help too. I have more than plenty of time on my hands.”
He shook his head. “You and the mafia don’t go hand in hand.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s kind of sexist,” I protested. Although in my case I didn’t disagree. “But I meant I could help with your legitimate businesses. Your fashion houses. After all, I know an up-and-coming fashion designer,” I said, reminding him of Reina.
“You don’t say,” he muttered. “She and your friends just about blew up my phone.”
“Sorry.” They’d been blowing up my phone, too, and it was a good distraction. I assured them I was fine—physically and mentally—and I was safe now. Of course, my girls being my girls made sure to insist I got better so I could give them a rundown of the freaky shit I was doing with my husband. While I had nothing to report yet, I knew we’d get back to our physical connection soon. It was too soon though, and I wasn’t ready to see my body, let alone have Enrico see it.
My husband crossed the room in five long strides and pulled me into a hug, pressing his lips on my forehead. “Don’t be. I like that they care about you. We’ll have them over in a few weeks and you girls can use my yacht. Sì?”
I smiled. “That’ll be nice. At least we don’t have to steal the yacht.”
He chuckled. “The boys told me they’d help you. Somehow I’m not surprised.”
“They know who runs this show.”
His eyes darted over my head. “You are my show, Isla. My world. Without you, all of this would be a burden. With you, it’s a life worth living.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, the door opened and my brother entered the room like a force of nature.
The look on his face when he’d executed my mother in the video that Donatella had made me watch—over and over again—haunted me. It wasn’t cruel or ruthless. It was full of anguish. Pain.
“You look better, sestra.”
He didn’t approach and something about the guarded expression in his eyes tore at me. I loved him. I didn’t know what had made him kill my mother, but I knew he loved me. He cared about me.
“You look tired,” I murmured. “Is Tatiana’s pregnancy exhausting you or is it me?”
He pushed his hand through his dark hair. “Both.”
I smiled, taking a seat next to the window. “Will you sit?”
“Is it okay if I come closer to you?”
“Always.” My voice cracked. He was across the room in the blink of an eye. “Illias, I don’t want us to drift apart.”
“But?”
“But as your sister, I need to know why. I need to know how you can be so sure we are siblings.” My fingers twisted together in my lap. “If my mother was—” I was still unable to say the word. “I need answers. I don’t want you to shield me from anything you think I can’t handle. I want it all. Good, bad, sad, happy.”
He took my hands into his big ones and held them in his warm palms. “I can’t help it. My first instinct is to protect you.”
