A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. “About what?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
“To try to make him see reason. To stop you and Kostas from marrying.” A sob breaks through, past her lips. “I didn’t know she didn’t know you two weren’t really in love. I’m the reason she was so upset.”
Oh, no. It’s not my mom’s fault. I should’ve told her. It didn’t even cross my mind she would approach Nora about it. Now, though, it all makes sense. She told Nora the real reason why Kostas and I are marrying and it broke her. It broke her because our marriage wasn’t just a debt to be paid. It was revenge. It was personal. Because Niles couldn’t remain faithful to his wife! Because he couldn’t be satisfied with what he had right in front of him. My mom wasn’t enough. My brother and I weren’t enough. Nothing is ever fucking enough for him. It’s why he is where he is. He’s a greedy, selfish asshole.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, trying to soothe her.
“I approached Kostas too,” she adds, and the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. “I begged him not to make you marry him. He warned me not to interfere…”
“You were just trying to be a good mom,” I tell her, but even as I speak the words, I know Kostas isn’t going to agree. The minute he calms down and thinks, he’s going to put two and two together, and he’s going to want revenge. Just like his father. And when it happens, my mom can’t be here.
“You need to go back to Italy,” I blurt out.
Her brows knit in confusion. “With you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You need to go. Now. If Kostas finds out you were the one who told Nora about our wedding being a sham, he’s going to go after you. He thought I said something to her and he was livid.” I stand abruptly. “You need to go. Take Nonna and get on the first flight out.” I look around, realizing Stefano isn’t here. “Call Stefano and tell him you guys need to leave.”
“Talia,” Mom pleads. “I can’t just leave you here.”
“Yes, you can, and you will. I can’t risk Kostas hurting you. Please.” Needing her to leave right away, I grab the bags the driver left in the corner of the room and roll them to the door. “Nonna!” I call out. With everything that happened, she lay down for a nap when we got here. “Nonna, wake up!”
My hands are shaking, and my legs are trembling in fear. I’ve seen what my fiancé is capable of, and I don’t doubt for a second he won’t hesitate to torture and kill my mom if he believes she’s the reason his mother shot herself.
As I’m helping my grandmother to her feet, Stefano and Nonno walk in. They both have blood on their clothes and frowns on their faces. Without waiting for them to speak, I rush over to them. “You have to leave.”
Both men look at me in confusion, and Nonno speaks. “What’s going on?”
I quickly explain to them what my mom said to Nora and Kostas, and my grandfather agrees it’s best for them to put distance between them. “He left in the ambulance with his father,” Nonno says. “I imagine he’ll be there for some time.”
“What about Aris?” I ask.
“The police forced him to let go of her and he took off,” Stefano says.
Oh, God! Poor Aris. I need to find him.
After wrapping my mom up in a tight hug and telling her to call me once she’s home, I see them out and then head over to Aris’s villa to find out if he went there.
After banging on the door several times and no one answering, I begin my search of the property. I check the tiki bar to see if he came here for a drink but don’t find him. I dial his cell number, but he doesn’t pick up. Maybe he went to the hospital…I call Kostas, but he doesn’t pick up either. I spend the next couple hours combing through every inch of the hotel. The restaurants, the bars, the pools. I go by his office, but nobody’s there. I check the parking garage and see his car is there, so he has to be somewhere.
Before giving up and heading home, I try his place one more time. “Aris!” I shout, banging on the door. “If you’re in there, please open up. I just want to make sure…” I stop myself before I finish my sentence. Of course he isn’t okay. His mom just killed herself. His father, who she blamed, was shot. He’s the furthest thing from being okay. “Aris, please.” I pound on the door, refusing to give up. What if he’s hurt himself?
Finally the door swings open and Aris stumbles out slightly. “Talia,” he slurs. The blood from his mother is still covering his entire front. “Sweet, sweet Talia.” He smirks, but it’s not playful. It’s sad and despondent.
“Oh, Aris.” I pull him into a hug, and it’s then I notice he’s holding a bottle of liquor. It drops to the floor with a bang, and liquid sloshes out, spraying my feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“She’s…she’s dead,” Aris whispers. His mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel and smell his cool, liquor-covered breath.
“I know. I know,” I tell him, having no clue what to say. Nothing I say is going to make this better. He’s just lost both his parents. His mother literally, and his father…how will he ever get past it, knowing his father is why she killed herself?
“C’mon.” I wrap my arm around Aris’s waist and help him walk to the bathroom, so I can get him into the shower and clean him up. I let go of him momentarily to turn on the water, and he slumps against the wall, his body sliding down into a heap on the floor. His eyes close, and his head bangs against the wall.
“She’s dead,” he murmurs.
“Here, let me help you,” I tell him, needing to get his crimson-stained clothes off him. His eyes are still closed as he extends each arm so I can pull his suit jacket off. Next, I unbutton his shirt, then peel it from his body. His limbs are limp, and his breathing is almost nonexistent. “Aris,” I whisper, needing to know he’s still awake. His brown eyes open. His lids are hooded over, and his pupils are slightly dilated. He looks devastated and lost, and my heart breaks for him. I can’t imagine losing my mom, let alone watching her kill herself.
Reaching out, he pushes several strands of my hair out of my face and whispers, “She’s gone.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” I yank each of his loafers off his feet, then pull his socks off. “I need you to stand so we can get your pants off.” The front of his pants, where he laid his mother’s head in his lap, is drenched through from the blood.
Aris swallows thickly, and his Adam’s apple bobs slightly. His eyes gloss over, and he nods once but doesn’t make any move to get up. Kneeling in front of him, I position my hands under each armpit and attempt to lift him. He’s too heavy and doesn’t budge. “Aris, please,” I beg. This time when he nods, he presses his hands against the marbled floor and stands. He’s shaky on his feet, but he remains standing while I unbutton and unzip his pants. I push them down and consider removing his briefs but don’t want to go there.
“The water is warm and will feel good,” I tell him as I guide him into the walk-in shower. The water rains down on his face and back, dripping down his body. The clear liquid turns red as it circles the drain and empties. I’m about to go find him a towel, when his hands grip my hips and he pulls me into the shower with him.