Page 9 of Her Vengeance

“Yes, beautiful?” she responds without looking away from him. She steps closer to touch me, understanding that I need something to ground me. The warmth of her leg touching me calms something in my soul that hasn’t been cared for in years. I don’t understand my draw to her, but I need answers.

“Do you see what I see?” I ask, unsure how to question if he is really alive or if my mind has finally broken. Terrified of the answer and how much it will hurt.

“I’m the last person on earth that will hurt her. This conversation might be easier if you weren’t pointing a gun at me,” he chimes in nonchalantly. Hearing those words ring through my ears from him sets me on fire. The rage I feel in my chest could burn the world twice over.

“Romeo, aren’t you supposed to be dead?” she asks him, unwilling to put down the gun but allowing him to move to the dining room to take a seat.

“Romeo De Luca! What the actual fuck!” I exclaim, unsure how to put into words how I feel. A wild mixture of relief and anger fights for dominance in my chest.

“Please don’t hate me,” he says softly as he places his chin on his folded hands. My heart wants to hear him out, but the anger at what he put me through overwhelms the softer emotion.

“You lying sack of fuck!” I spew the fire spinning, rage taking full control as I try to sort through the emotions on rapid fire.

“Flower, I know he fucked up. I am not defending him, but if you keep yelling like that, the neighbors will call someone, and I don’t think that we need the cops showing up here,” she coaxes the information and offers me her extra hand to help me to my feet. I take her up on the offer and stand, overwhelmed by reality.

“Can you come sit at the table so we can talk about this?” he asks, and for a moment, I consider telling him that he can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. Instead, I walk to my room, finding the copy of Romeo and Juliet and the ashes. Turning around quickly, I walk to the dining room.

“Are you just going to let her walk out of here after she tried to kill herself?” he asks in an irritated tone. She scoffs in response.

“Yes, the only weapons in the house are in my hand and the knives in the kitchen,” she responds to him in an equally annoyed tone.

“What if she gets hurt and we are both out here?” he asks, a tinge of fear leaching into his voice. Eva scoffs at him.

“Then maybe for a moment, you can feel a fraction of what you have put her through,” she hits him back verbally, and he goes silent. Taking one final deep breath, I step back into the dining room, set down the ashes and the book in front of him, and take a seat. There are a million words that I can use to fill thespace between us at this moment, but instead, I let the silence take over.

“Claire?” Eva calls my attention from Rome. I look up and find her beautiful blue eyes.

“Yes,” I respond, unsure of what she wants but always willing to hear her out, even if I disagree.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks me softly, her eyes showing me the softer side to all of her jagged edges.

“Yes, but I have no idea what I want or what has been stocked here,” I admit, knowing that having something to drink will make this easier. She stands from the table, gives him a warning look, and then walks over to the kitchen. He takes the book in his shaking hand, removing the envelope from between the pages, and holds it up.

“This is yours,” he utters, trying to hand the envelope back to me. An empty laugh leaves my throat.

“No, it was mine if you are dead. Upon consideration that you are sitting at my kitchen table, you no longer merit the definition of dead,” I rebut, frustrated. The corner of his mouth twitches, and I see a glimpse of the jesting.

“Come check my pulse for yourself,” he taunts and holds out his wrist, ready for me to check his heartbeat.

“You don’t get to manipulate her into touching you. I don’t care about your history. If you touch her without her expressed consent, I will cut your fingers off and turn them into a crown for her.” Eva’s voice broke the spell between us and warmed my heart. In her hand is a stemless wineglass filled with a deep red liquid. She walks over and sets the glass in front of me, cupping my chin with her hand and smiling at me. I take the glass and bring the liquid to my lips, prepared for the harsh, bitter red wine that my brother likes, and instead find a flavorful, Port dessert wine.

13

Chapter 13

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Rome

“If I lose her at the end of it all, I don’t know if I can survive that.”

I clench my jaw as she continues to touch my daffodil. My fucking flower. The woman that I have lived and would die to protect. Admonishing myself, I contain the beast inside. She has been alone since her brother’s wedding. Well, at least she has physically been on her own. I have been just on the other side of the screen, healing my own injuries and watching her every second of the day.

“Have I ever made you touch me in a way that you didn’t enjoy?” I ask her directly instead of pushing back against the killer that I assigned to her. Her jaw falls open blankly. I stand in response to her utter shock. This is done. I need her to touchme and understand that I am alive. She will never be alone in the world again. I close the space between us until just an inch separates us. The barrel of a gun touches my forehead, and I smile.

“Eva, I am asking you not to kill him. At least not until I get the answers as to why he put me through hell,” Claire’s voice comes out stronger, more opinionated than I have ever heard it before. She sighs, taking the gun from my forehead and putting it on the shelf behind her.

“Ask, and you shall receive,” she concedes to Claire, and I am in awe. In a matter of a day, she has wrapped this killer around her finger.