Page 33 of Loss and Damages

“He’s sought me out for the same reason you said you wanted to see me.

He feels closer to his brother because of my ties to him.

Once that loss fades, he’ll stop driving out to Hollow Lake.

” I sip my coffee and try not to choke. I didn’t understand that fear had been lurking in my heart until it came out of my mouth.

“You’re most likely right. Dominic has decided there’s no room in his life for a woman. He’s more interested in catering to his father than falling in love and starting a family. He lives for his work only. Don’t get invested, Jemma. He’ll only break your heart.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m quaking. “Please, tell me about Leo.”

“Very well. Leo isn’t Raphael’s son. That is why I have always loved him over Dominic.”

I set my cup and saucer on the coffee table before I drop them and splatter coffee all over the floor. “Dominic doesn’t know. Does your husband?”

She laughs. “My husband knows nothing but the balance of his bank account and how the flavor of his mistress’s pussy tastes on his tongue.

He’s looked at Leonardo all his life and never once did he see another man’s face in his features.

My lover was there, in Leo’s cheekbones and the line of his nose, but Antonio is also Italian and has the same coloring as Raphael.

Nothing but a paternity test would have given away my secret. ”

I want to hate her, but I can’t. Pain glimmers in her eyes.

“I was kept from living the life I wanted with the man I loved. When I married Raphael, Antonio lost hope we’d ever be together and married as well, but his wife died only a few years after their wedding.

That is why there’s time between Dominic and Leo.

After Dominic’s birth, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor and went in secret.

I didn’t want Raphael to father any more of my children.

Antonio’s wife passing away was tragic and nothing I hoped for, but we took advantage and started seeing each other.

By then, I wanted another child and I let him plant his seed.

It was meant to be, Jemma. It took only once. ”

“But you had to have been intimate with your husband to be able to pass Leo off as his.”

“I waited until I missed a period before I let him have me, and that’s all he did. That’s all he did. Grabbed me from behind and pushed me onto the bed. There was no love between us and he used me. But he passed out cigars the night Leo was born,” she adds bitterly.

“I’m sorry.”

Her lips tremble as she tries to smile. “I’ve done what I can with my life. God has punished me for it by taking away the only thing that mattered to me.”

“Do you still see Antonio?” I ask, but I already know the answer. Antonio is the love of her life. Only death will part them.

“Yes. I would be with him now, if you hadn’t called. He’s my escape from the pain.”

“Does he know Leo was his son?”

“No. I didn’t want anyone to know. You’re the first. Secrets are better kept when no one knows them.” She sips her coffee.

“Dominic grew up without a mother. Won’t you tell him now that Leo’s gone?”

“What purpose would that serve? Dominic is still Raphael’s son. An explanation would do nothing.”

I don’t understand any of this. “If you hate your husband that much, why don’t you get a divorce?”

“Come here, Jemma.” She pats the cushion next to her.

Leaving my purse, I sit next to Athena, the delicate scent of a perfume I’ll never be able to afford wafting from her skin.

“This is a warning as much as it is a simple fact. If you marry a Milano, you will die a Milano. It has always been this way. A divorce is evidence of failure, and the Milano men fail at nothing. The sale of the 1100 block proves that. Ask Dominic how many men he had to threaten to get what he wanted. How much in bribes he paid. Once Dominic decides he wants something, he’ll stop at nothing to possess it. ”

I stare down at my lap and she forces me to look at her, a finger under my chin.

“He’s already taken you to bed, I can see it in your eyes. If you fall in love with him, be prepared to give him everything while he gives you nothing. He keeps all he has for seeking his father’s approval.”

“Because you’ll never give him yours.”

She lifts a shoulder. “I cannot. I’m trapped in this life and I find solace in the arms of a man I can never truly have.”

“Run away with him. If you can’t divorce Dominic’s father, run away.”

Athena skims her palm down my forearm until she’s holding my hand.

“Raphael would hunt me down and kill me. I’ll treasure the minutes I can steal with Antonio and count my blessings.”

She stands, and having no choice, I follow, snagging my purse’s strap before leaving the library.

“We won’t see each other again. I’ve told you everything there is to know. I understand why Leo liked spending time with you. Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed you as a daughter-in-law.”

“You won’t treat me well if I marry Dominic?”

Athena laughs, her heels clicking against the marble, her housecoat floating behind her as she strides toward the elevator to see me out. “Dominic will never marry. You did not listen. He’s married to the company. He does not have it in him to love anyone but his father.”

I pause in front of the open elevator that’s waiting to carry me away for the first and only time.

Even if I wanted to talk to her again, she wouldn’t accept my call.

I chose Dominic, and she’s done with me, her offer to chat on occasion rescinded.

I could tell her about Leo’s paintings and ask if she wanted the ones that I haven’t sold, but I think I’m better off keeping it to myself.

I won’t sell any more, though. When I get back to the gallery, I’ll take them off the walls and save them.

That way I’ll always have a piece of Leo even after Dominic leaves me.

“I’m sorry about Leo. I truly am.”

“Thank you, Jemma. Stay safe.”

“Thank you.” I understand what she’s saying. We’re both caught in a deadly spider’s web. “The same to you.”

She nods.

I step into the elevator and her eyes hold mine as the doors close.

I would have given her more compassion if her sadness and lies hadn’t destroyed Dominic’s life.

I didn’t ask her if Leo knew Raphael wasn’t his father, but I don’t think she told him, either.

She was the only one who knew, and besides telling me, she’ll take her secret to her grave.

I’m tempted to spend the night at Jeremy and Tara’s and cuddle on Maya, but I drive home, Athena’s and my conversation rattling around in my head.

I’m emotionally exhausted by the time I reach Hollow Lake, and rather than unlocking the gallery and storing Leo’s paintings, I change into pajamas and get ready for bed.

I’ll take them down tomorrow and figure out what to hang in their place.

I haven’t reached out to any other artists yet and pulling Leo’s paintings off my walls will force me to do it sooner than later.

Maybe Ashley will know of someone, or maybe I’ll need to expand my reach and look to St. Charlotte.

It doesn’t matter where the artist lives as long as the paintings fit the vibe of my gallery.

Around midnight I drift off, my pillowcase still holding the scent of Dominic’s cologne, but I’m not asleep long when something rouses me from a vague dream of Dominic holding my hand while we walk along the lake.

I hear it again, a muted crash. Sometimes racoons crawl into my garbage and once a black bear tried with all her strength to open the gallery’s door. I ended up having to call the police and they shooed her away.

Holding my phone and a flashlight, I step barefoot into the yard. A late-model sedan is parked near the gallery and the streetlight down the road glints off the back bumper. Whoever the driver is left the car running, and the engine rumbles over the lake water splashing at the shore.

A crash explodes through the air, and I sprint across the yard, not thinking about anything but stopping whoever’s in there from destroying anything else. I may not sell collector’s pieces, but the art is worth something to me and the other artists trying to make a living.

The evening breeze cools my fevered skin and the dew-soaked grass brushes at my ankles as I run between my cottage and the gallery.

I round the corner and pound up the porch steps.

“What are you doing?” I scream, dropping my phone and yanking the door open, the handle biting at my skin with the pressure of my grip.

The flashlight’s beam catches two tall, scrawny figures dressed completely in black, ski masks covering their faces. They startle, one of them caught cutting one of Leo’s paintings.

“Stop that!” The shriek rips out of my throat.

They rush toward me, pieces of broken china crunching under their shoes, and the shorter of the two shoves me against the wall, slamming my head into a large, framed watercolor that loosens on its hook.

I fall to my hands and knees, stunned.

The painting slides down the wall and smashes onto my shoulders and against the back of my head. The force knocks me onto my stomach, bits of china cutting into my cheek. Stars burst behind my eyes.

Tires skid on the gravel as the driver punches the accelerator, and it’s only a moment later nothing but stillness fills the gallery, even the crickets and birds silenced by the violence.

Gingerly, I push the heavy painting off me.

The glow of my flashlight illuminates the shards of splintered china, and through the meagre light, I see one of Leo’s paintings sliced from corner to corner.

The handmade jewelry in the broken display cases is scattered among the glittering bits of glass, and the books written by the local authors are all ruined, the pages ripped out and covers torn.