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CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mya

I sat stiffly across from Dario and his brother, Matteo.

Matteo was talking, as he had been nonstop for the past ten minutes. He only stopped talking long enough to inhale a bit of food and toss back a drink.

We were all sitting at the restaurant that was attached to the far back end of the marina. It wasn’t a five-star dining establishment, but it had a lot of character. It would have been a place I would have enjoyed coming to under different circumstances.

Very different circumstances…starting with the present company.

I didn’t want to be near Dario or his crude brother right now. I was still seething from what Dario had said earlier. He was baiting me.

He only gave me breadcrumbs…bits and pieces, and then expected me to just trust him. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t. There was no way.

His brother picked up a chicken wing, sucked the meat off it and gave me a toothy smile. I wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be Miss Manners.

I was still trying to get over last night’s scare and my argument with Dario.

“So how are you liking married life?”

“This is my second marriage. I’m not exactly a novice.”

“Yep, you can say that again. At your age, you’re kind of damaged goods,” he said with a chuckle that showed the food in his mouth that he hadn’t quite yet finished chewing.

“Apologize,” Dario said softly.

Matteo looked at him and blinked slowly, “What? What’d I say?”

He tried to act indifferent when he looked at Dario, but it was clear who was in charge.

“Jeez, sorry,” he mumbled in my direction. “Everyone’s so sensitive nowadays.”

He shrugged and wiped his hands on a napkin. “It was just a joke.”

He adjusted his shoulders and stretched his arms out across the back of the booth. “I got to give it to you little brother, you really know how to live. I didn’t find out about the boat until recently. I would have gotten a yacht myself but you know I like to be discrete.”

I could practically feel Dario rolling his eyes next to me.

“You know this dude has an obsession with water,” Matteo went on, gesturing with the chicken wing in his hand at Dario. “Loves to be surrounded by it, like he’s a fish or something. You know, he fell in the pool once before he knew how to swim and I rescued him, saved his life.”

“Our father fished me out.”

“I didn’t know you sucked at swimming―”

Dario picked up a drink and took a sip before saying softly, “You were a murderous bastard then and you still are. So was Dad. He’s the one who threw me in.”

“Bastard?” he snorted. “Last time I checked Dad only married one of our moms and as luck would have it, it wasn’t yours.”

“She would have rather died than marry that piece of shit.”

“And she did, right?”

Before I knew it, Dario had Matteo by his neck. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he tightened his grip.

Matteo’s eyes began to bulge and he pawed at Dario’s grip on his neck. He was wheezing, trying to bring in air, but nothing was happening.

Was Dario going to kill Matteo, his own brother, right then and there? Horrified, I placed a hand on Dario’s outstretched arm.

“Stop. You’re killing him,” I whispered.

He didn’t even acknowledge me, in fact, he squeezed harder.

I tried again. I couldn’t have him murder his brother in front of me. “You’re making a scene.”

Honestly, I knew Dario had chosen this table for a reason. No one could see around the large booths unless you were directly in front of us.

I touched his shoulder. “Dario. Let him go.”

He turned and looked at me. For a moment, he looked surprised, as if he hadn’t remembered I was there, and then just like that, he let him go.

Matteo slumped backward against the booth, trying to suck in a breath, rubbing his neck. I could see an angry welt began to form where Dario’s fingers had been.

When Dario looked up at Matteo, his eyes were wild, murderous. “You’re going to regret that.”

He went to stand, bracing both hands on the table as he did so. His cheeks burned with rage and humiliation. In his eyes, as he looked at Dario, all I saw was hate.

He slid from the booth and was about to walk away, when he turned and looked at me. “You see the monster you married? You think he’s protecting you? You’re nothing but a pawn in his game. And that’s all you’ll ever be. You think Nico is the villain, but I would look a little closer to home if I were you.”

With that, he walked slowly away, rubbing his neck as he did.

When I looked back at Dario, he was helping himself to a drink like nothing had just happened, as if he hadn’t just tried to kill his own brother, in public, without a second thought.

This was the second time I’d seen him react so carelessly with violence. He had such a polished facade, but maybe that’s all it was—a facade that hid a darker persona.

What had Matteo meant by Nico not being the villain? I looked at Dario with new eyes.

This man had stabbed someone in front of me in cold blood. This man had been about to choke his own brother to death.

He was scary, a monster, and I couldn’t help but wonder what plans he had for me. I couldn’t help but feel fear.

Last night, he had protected me. He had been gentle and reassuring.

I’d seen a side of him that I didn’t know existed. I felt like those moments had been a dream and the rude awakening was knowing that I was married to a psychopath and having his baby.

I thought back to the photos in the boathouse. Perhaps, they could be my safety net. I could find a way to tip someone off that they were there, see if that implicated him in anything. It was worth a shot, right?

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said once we were back on the boat.

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent.

“My mother,” he started and then paused. Finally he said, “She’s a sensitive subject.”

“What happened to her?”

“She committed suicide.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Most people don’t…she was chronically depressed when she wasn’t on her pills. But a ball of sunshine when she was feeling better. That day she died…” he shook his head, memories overwhelming him.

I waited for him to continue but he didn’t. Instead, he just walked away and left me standing there.

Any other wife would have gone to comfort him, but I knew he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to appear vulnerable.

I understood what it felt like to lose one’s mother…and from the sound of it, it seemed that he lost his when he was quite young. I couldn’t imagine how he’d grown up.

He never spoke about his childhood, but knowing his brother, and rumors of the person his father was, led me to believe that his childhood hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows.

I thought of what he had said. His father had thrown him into the pool when he knew he couldn’t swim. It was likely one small tale from a terrible childhood.

Was the violence inside of him just a byproduct of his environment or was that who he was? It seemed that he loved his mother—fiercely.

Was that just who Dario was? On one side of the coin was a man who loved and the other a man who only knew how to hate?

He’d never harmed me. He had had plenty of chances.

And he hadn’t let me die. He could have.

Maybe he just didn’t want my blood on his hands, or just maybe I could trust him, even understand him…and maybe even love him… if I just gave him a chance.

I touched my belly. I couldn’t take chances. I had another life to protect.

I couldn’t let my conflicting feelings for him make me vulnerable. I couldn’t start caring about him. I couldn’t start to empathize with the man who had blackmailed me into marrying him.

And if he knew that I was carrying his baby, I knew my chances of getting away from him were zilch. I didn’t know what to do.

Later that day as I rested in bed after feeling a little queasy, I heard voices and looked out the little windows that lined one side of the boat. Someone I didn’t recognize had shown up with a car and a package for Dario.

Their voices were low and at one point, they turned and looked in my direction. The man didn’t take his eyes off me as Dario spoke to him. He only nodded and then abruptly walked away.

“Who was that?” I asked when Dario came to find me.

“Ivan,” Dario said. “He does odds and ends for me.” He changed the subject, “Are you ready to leave?”

I looked down at my clothes. “Yes, but you wouldn’t have happened to bring me some clothes that actually fit, did you?”

He nodded, “Of course.” He handed me a bag. “Also, Dr. Kali wants to speak with you. I told him about our umm, troubles, and he insisted that you call him. There’s a phone in the bag.”

He walked away from me then, disappearing to another room. I slipped into a comfy T-shirt that was a little too low-cut and looked in the mirror. My hair needed to be washed and there were dark circles under my eyes.

I splashed some water on my face and pinched my cheeks, trying to bring some color back into my face, to no avail.

Sighing, I pulled on a pair of jeans that just barely fit over my expanding waistline. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Dario knew my size…well, my previous size. I’d gone up in size and knew that I would have to spend hours in the car with my jeans unbuttoned.

I was just grateful the shirt was long enough to cover it.

I reached for the phone and realized that I didn’t know the doctor’s number. It was there in the contacts. The only number I could call…besides 911.

I thought about calling 911 for a second, wondering if that was the right thing to do. How would Dario react? What would he do? I’d seen the type of violence he was capable of.

Would he try to kill anyone who tried to come to my aid? I couldn’t say that he would, but I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t either. It was too much to gamble with—other people’s lives. I couldn’t bring someone else into this situation.

I touched my belly, feeling a wave of guilt, but it was too late, I already had.

“Dr. Kali,” I said once he answered, “This is ―”

“Mya, yes, Dario is worried about you and wanted me to check in with you.”

“Oh?” That was surprising. I thought it would have been the other way around. The way Dario had mentioned it, he made it sound as if it weren’t his idea at all.

I guess he did have a heart.

“Yes,” there was a long pause, and then Dr. Kali said, “Is Dario nearby?”

“No, he’s upstairs,” I said softly.

“Okay, then listen carefully, Mya. I have a house, a safe house, so to speak. If you find yourself in a situation where you must leave and you need help, I need you to call this number. I’ll make sure you and the baby are safe.”

“One second,” I said, rummaging through a desk to find a pen and paper, my hands shaking. Tears pooled in my eyes as I was overwhelmed by emotion.

An out. I could escape.

He recited the number to me and said, “I’m worried about you and the baby. Please, for both of your sakes, be careful.”

A wave of relief washed over me. Someone cared. Someone was willing to help me. And my child.

I rushed to say thank you, but he had already hung up.

This was it. My way out.