Page 115 of When She Unravels
He glances in the direction of her room. “She’s still asleep. When she wakes, don’t tell her about Lazaro, all right? I’m afraid she won’t take it well if she knows he might already be on the island. He killed her friend, and—”
“I understand.” He doesn’t need to explain it to me. I know exactly what Martina is feeling. “I’ll keep her company.”
Damiano’s eyes soften. “I appreciate it. I’ve got a few things to review, will you be all right?”
“Go, I’m fine.”
He curls his fist into my shirt at the small of my back, presses me into him, and brings our lips together. I give him what I have, but God, it feels all wrong. The closer Lazaro gets, the more I think about the past and the awful things I did.
The day drags on even once Martina wakes and we get busy in the kitchen. She teaches me how to make her favorite cake, and we spend hours baking all the layers and making the flavored creams. At one point, I have to pause and duck into the bathroom to collect myself. It’s so absurd to be baking while a killer is probably on his way over. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Then I return to the kitchen and pour myself a large glass of wine.
When the evening comes and the skies begin to dim, we sit down for dinner. We’re halfway through our grilled tuna steak when the doorbell rings.
I jolt out of my seat. Is it Lazaro? No, that’s impossible. He wouldn’t ring the doorbell.
Damiano settles me with a calm look. “I’ll be right back,” he says, lifting his napkin off his lap and putting it by his plate.
“Are you okay?” Martina asks, her face lined with concern.
I realize I’m still standing, so I sit back down. “Yeah, fine. Just a little jumpy.”
My racing heartbeat slows only when Damiano reenters the room with Ras by his side.
“You’re back,” I say, noting Ras’s tired eyes.
They lose their tiredness as soon as they land on me. He comes closer, shaking his head, as if I’ve sorely disappointed him. “Look.” He sticks out his hand.
There’s a very clear bite mark on his index finger. My eyes widen. “That’s from Gemma?”
He drags a chair out and sinks into it. His eyes flash with a dark curiosity I hadn’t seen in him before. “I’ve got a few long gashes on my back as well. I swear, she must spend her free time sharpening her nails into knives.”
I arch a brow. “What did you expect? You ambushed her in the women’s change room. I’d be more concerned if she didn’t put up a fight.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ve never had a woman I haven’t slept with rough me up like that.”
Is it just me, or does he sound mildly impressed?
“Do you know what your father’s going to do to her now that she’s been caught helping?” Ras asks and looks down at the plate Martina places in front of him.
“No. He wouldn’t tell us.”
Damiano meets my gaze. “I’ll find out. I just need a bit more time to secure the deal.”
Would he be able to patiently wait if this was Martina we were talking about? I glance away. Ras doesn’t look too happy with that answer either. He sticks his fork into the tuna and tears off a piece.
“How did she look?” I ask him. “Did she seem happy?”
Ras peers at me from under his brows. “She looked…fine.” He clears his throat. “We didn’t talk much until she got on the phone with you.”
There has to be something I can do for my sister from my new position by Damiano’s side.
But it’s not up to me. It’s up to him. He will be don, and it will be his word that matters, not mine.
“Finish up your food in my office,” Damiano tells Ras as he gets up. “We have things to discuss.”
I’m so absorbed with my worries I barely notice them leave. My wineglass is empty. I refill it nearly to the brim.
Why did I agree to involve Gemma in all of this? I should have run when Damiano offered me my freedom, instead of sticking around and thinking I can help. Now I’ve created problems for her and I don’t know how to solve them. It’s like everything I touch turns rotten. Damiano might not understand this yet, but I know it to be true.
