Page 62 of The Reaper's Bride
A commotion in the entryway draws me from my melancholy morning and gives me the excuse I need to escape the cook’s scolding. My steps ring out lightly across the marble as I wonder what I’ll do if it’s Alessio. Is there any hope for our marriage after he cheated on me?
“Why areyouhere?” I hear Rocco angrily asking someone.
“Because Alessio told me to come with her, and I am nothing if not a dutiful soldier.”
Armando! My pulse picks up, unsure if this is a good thing or not. Armando has guarded me for years, since the night I became engaged to Alessio. I’ve trusted him. I liked him. I even saw him as another annoying older brother at times. But he’s not my brother and the other night he reminded me what he truly is, a Made Man, a De Luca solider, a killer, someone who will torture others at the drop of a hat in the name of their cause.
I nearly collapse with relief the next moment when I turn the corner and see who’s standing beside him in the doorway.“Frankie!”
With her chin held high and her red hair shining in the morning sunlight, she summons a smile for me, but her poise falters when I stumble into her, grasping her tightly. Someone I love has come home, and I don’t want her to fly away again. I don’t care about the men watching us. All I care about is she’s pale and tired-looking as she promises me she’s alright.
“I’ve been so worried about you!”
“I know. I’ve been worried about you-”
“Enough, you traitorous little bitch,” Rocco barks at Frankie, shoving us apart.
I stare at my husband’s cousin in disbelief. He’s a nasty piece of shit, and I haven’t forgotten the awful things he said the day of my betrothal dinner, but he has never dared speak that way directly to any of us girls.
“Rocco,” Armando snarls in a low and dangerous voice, “I have instructions to guard Francesca until decisions are made but, if you don’t remove your hand from Mrs. De Luca’s wrist at once, I’ll be forced to cut it off.” My eyes fly to the bodyguard, noting the fading bruises on his temple and around his throat, unable to forget that Alessio threatened him in a similar manner recently for touching me.
Rocco releases his hold on me. “I’m not hurtingher.But this one’s going to pay for her crimes.”
“Even if that’s the case, she won’t be paying you.”
“You don’t make the decisions here, Armando. I’ll be Underboss someday, and you’re just a fucking soldier.”
“You’ll be Underboss someday if you outlive your father, and that’s currently up for debate. Now, fuck off before you really make me angry.”
Rocco hisses like the offended little weasel he is, but Armando never flinches or backs down. Knowing he’s outmatched, Rocco slinks away after giving Frankie a look of pure loathing.
“They know you helped her?” I whisper, worriedly.
“They know she helped her,” Armando replies before Frankie can.
“Is she a prisoner?”
“Not exactly, Cat,” Frankie answers.
I look between the pair, wondering what I don’t know. Too much, I’m afraid. After my one attempt to call Alessio, I’ve not reached out to anyone who was still in New York and Gia knowseven less than I do since she never left Chicago, thanks to there being no wedding to attend.
“Come on,” Armando says with resignation. “I know you’ll follow us anyway.”
Of course, I will. There’s no way I’m leaving Frankie’s side after Rocco sounded so vicious. Plus, I want to know everything that’s happened.
We’re led to a different part of the mansion, one I’ve never visited. “These were his mother’s quarters,” Frankie murmurs as Armando pulls out a key.
“Yes, as I understand it, Alessio’s mother was permitted to sleep apart from his father after she gave him two sons.” My lip curls up in disgust over Armando’s statement. I feel sympathy for the woman even if I can’t understand how she might’ve been planning to leave her two young boys with that monster.
“The outer door is fitted with a lock. If Frankie is not a prisoner, why is she being put into a cell?” I snap at Armando. He walks in without a reply. “Fine, don’t answer me but, if you try to make me leave, you’ll have to carry me out, kicking and screaming.”
“I don’t plan on signing my own death warrant today, Caterina,” he replies, dryly. “Stay with her. I’ll be right outside. Knock if you want to go to your own room. Francesca, you know my orders.”
She nods and, completely stunned, I listen to the sound of the lock being turned and immediately a sense of panic flutters in my chest. “How can you be so calm about this?” I ask Frankie who seems unbothered.
“Armando is under orders to protect me as well as you. I’m not afraid of a locked door.”
“Protect you? From Rocco? Frankie, what happened in New York after I left?”