“You tripped. Walked into a wall maybe.” He touches it gently. “It’s not too bad. Once you clean it, it’ll barely be noticeable.”
“He doesn’t miss anything, Rafa. Don’t you know that about him?”
“Listen, it’s up to you. I’m just asking for both our sakes.”
Is he afraid of Stefan? Do I care? I know I don’t want to be a prisoner here. And I could use an ally even if that ally is Rafa. My options are limited.
“I won’t say anything.”
He smiles, seeming relaxed again. “Thank you. I’ll see you later.”
“See you,” I say, and climb out of the car to head inside.
24
Stefan
Alex Romano was more forthcoming than I thought he would be. But I guess if you don’t have anything to hide, it’s not that hard.
I understand now why he did what he did for Gabriela. Why he was willing to risk his life for her. I get why he felt he owed her and believe fully that they’re like brother and sister.
What I don’t understand is why Marchese didn’t kill him outright when he caught him helping Gabriela run away. I wonder how much Gabriela had to do with that. Maybe he couldn’t afford to lose another kid.
It’s early evening when I arrive back at the house from my trip to Rome. I have a message to call Matt Lawrence back. He’s apparently dug up a little more information on Gabriela’s mother’s drowning.
A smiling Millie approaches as I take off my suit jacket. I hand it to her when she stretches her arm out for it.
“Welcome home, Stefan,” she says.
“Thanks, Millie.” I look beyond her out to the patio but it’s empty. “How are things here?”
“Oh, fine,” she starts telling me about something in the kitchen but I interrupt.
“Where’s Gabriela?” I ask. I don’t care about anything else.
“In her room. She was out by the pool earlier though.”
“Swimming?”
“No. Reading.”
“What else did she do?”
“Not much. I think she’s bored, actually. It may be a good idea to get her out.”
I nod. I agree, actually. “That is a good idea. I have to make a call but have her get dressed to go to Palermo for dinner.”
Millie smiles. “I know she’ll love that, Stefan.”
I nod. “Thank you, Millie.” I turn to walk away but stop. “Oh, has she been in the library?” I realized the door was unlocked and guess it was Millie who’d innocently let her in, not thinking about the phone.
“Yes. She sits there when it’s too hot outside and reads. I hope that was okay. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“It’s not a problem.” I know she’s not reading in there but calling her brother and that’s fine. I think I may even have a solution for the problem Marchese created. But that will take some doing.
Millie heads upstairs and I make my way to the study, dialing Matt on my way.
“Stefan, thanks for calling me back.”
“What do you have?”
“I finally got my hands on the coroner’s report, which listed accidental drowning as the cause of death.”
“M-hmm.”
“I’ve read my share of these and although I’m not an expert, I think I have a pretty good understanding.”
“Go on.”
“During Maria Marchese’s autopsy, bruising was noted on the report that, even to a person of limited understanding, should have suggested a different conclusion than accidental drowning.”
“What kind of bruising?”
“Marks on her wrists. Rope burns.”
I’ve seen rope burns. They’re raw and obvious. “How were they explained?”
“They weren’t. The notation was made by a police officer at the scene. No one followed up. And there’s one other piece of evidence that no one really knew about.”
“What’s that?”
“She wasn’t the only person who drowned in the lake that day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Her bodyguard, his body was found on the opposite shore. Accidental drowning. And from what I gather, the two were close.”
“They were having an affair?”
“That’d be my guess. They took the kids on a camping trip, just the four of them. Who knows, maybe she was even going to take them and run.”
“Thank you, Matt. You’ve done well.”
“You always offer a challenge, Stefan.”
“I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”
I disconnect the call, pour myself a whiskey and sit down. I think about what I’ve just learned and wonder about what Gabriela said. About the drowning. If I would drown her too.
Is it possible she witnessed her mother’s murder? Because I have no doubt it was just that. Murder.
Once I finish my whiskey, I head upstairs to shower, change into a pair of jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt and a jacket. I then knock on Gabriela’s door.
“Come in, Miss Millie,” she calls out.
I walk in, surprising her because she gasps upon seeing me and closes her arms over her breasts. Which is odd since she’s dressed but I see a moment later, it’s because the dress isn’t zipped. I wonder if she couldn’t reach it and was waiting for Millie to help her.
“I said come in Miss Millie,” she says.
“Aren’t you glad I knocked at all?”
“I’m not ready. You can wait outside.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart. Turn around,” I say, walking toward her. Apart from the zipper, she looks ready to me.
“I can do it,” she says.
“No, you can’t, or you’d have done it by now. Turn.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ve already seen you naked, remember?”
“When you undressed me while I was incapacitated.”
“Yes. When I undressed you because you couldn’t undress yourself because you were drunk.”
She gives me a glare, but her face turns a pretty shade of pink.
“Turn around, Gabriela.”
She turns.
I look at her, at the exposed expanse of flawless skin. Flawless but for those marks I know are hidden by the silky material of the dress.
The straps of the dress are thin, spaghetti straps. The patterned deep blue falls to just above her knees.
When I look up, I meet her gaze in the mirror. She’s unblinking. On alert.
I’m not an inexperienced man, but there’s something about this petulant, defiant girl, my unwilling bride-to-be because when I shift my gaze down again, down to the naked skin of her back, to the curve of her spine and swell of her hips, my cock stirs.
I reach out, touch the silk, push it wider so I see more of her.
“What—”
“Don’t move.”
I run my knuckles softly over her warm skin, feel the goosebumps rise as I trail my hand down, then up again, fingertips light along each vertebra. When I reach her hair, I lift the mass of it, feel the weight as I set it over her shoulder. It’s not long, it was once, but it’s not anymore. Just a little past her shoulders. But still, to see it like this, the dark, sleek mass soft over one shoulder, her back more fully exposed, it awakens something inside me. A thing that wants to claim. To mark as my own.