Page 153 of Rosetti Family New York
She shakes her head like she’s coming out of a dark fog. “I killed my father.”
There’s disbelief in her voice. The shock on her face is still there, but she starts to register her surroundings, starts to understand what just happened.
Her eyes meet mine again, and they’re raw, vulnerable.
“I killed him,” she repeats, her voice steadier this time.
The realization cuts through the haze and fills the warehouse like a shout. I’ve never seen her like this, never seen her anything but composed, but now she looks like she’s about to unravel.
She looks down at her hands, stained red.
“Besiana,” I say softly, desperate to reach her, to bring her back from the edge.
I reach out and take her hands, gentle, my heart pounding.
"Besiana," I repeat, making her look at me. Her pale green eyes are haunted, filled with a torment that robs me of my breath.
"Yes," I tell her. "You did. And it was you or him. You did what you had to do."
Her gaze drops to our hands—mine, clasping hers tight, both of us smeared in her father's blood. She swallows hard.
"Dom," she whispers back, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. "What... what do I do now?"
I squeeze her hands, desperate to ground her, to keep her from losing herself in that moment. "We take care of each other," I say simply.
In the periphery of my vision, Rafe stands over Adrian's body, his face flat and hardened.
We stand there in the cold, Adrian’s body at our feet, his blood spreading across the concrete.
Rafe stares at Besiana, then at me.
“So now what?” he asks.
He’s already shooting off a message for a cleanup team.
“Now,” I say, “we go home.”
34
Besiana
This is how they welcome you back after a betrayal. The Rosetti mansion is dressed for Christmas, draped in twinkling lights that cut through the fog like beacons. I glance at Domenico beside me, who never looks distant, and squeeze his hand harder than I mean to. He doesn’t flinch. I could crush his fingers and he wouldn’t even blink.
“You’re still worried?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
I won’t pretend I’m not. The last time I was here, I left by the back door, fleeing the Rosetti wrath. I look at the mansion, at the family who has every right to hate me.
“And you’re sure this is a good idea?” I ask.
His smile is calm, unfazed. “It’s family. It’s never a good idea.”
I hold onto his hand as we walk through the front door.
Inside, the house is even more transformed. Tall trees, decked in red and green, sit in every room. Lights and ribbons cover the railings. Even the cold marble floors look warmer, crowded with packages and boxes and bags. I’m trying to take it all in when I hear the one voice I’ve been dreading most.
“Besa!” Carmela comes at me full force, a blur of brown curls and shiny green velvet. She wraps her arms around me, and I’m not sure what to do with my hands. “I’m so glad you’re here! And you wore the green dress. You look a million bucks, hon.”
