Page 134 of Thorns of Death

The pool deck was empty aside from the three of us and a few staff. It made me wonder where everyone was. There were a lot more crew members when we first came aboard. The moment we left the shoreline, Enrico had gotten a call. Twenty minutes later, a helicopter landed and whoever came aboard rushed into theufficiowith him.

“Do you often come out here?” I questioned them as we all sat on the lounge chairs, and I tilted my face to the sun.

“Not often. Papà works all the time.”

“Maybe we can convince him to work less.”

“Maybe.” Enzo didn’t seem convinced.

“Or maybe the three of us can come if Papà’s working,” Amadeo suggested.

“On the rare occasions he can’t come along perhaps,” I agreed. “But we’ll try to do more stuff together.”

“I wish our mother was like you.” Amadeo’s words hit me right in the chest. Loneliness laced his words, and I felt it as if it were my own.

I thought about what to say, how to offer comfort, and the only thing I could come up with was the truth. My own story.

“I’ve never met my mother,” I said, my voice low. “But I always wondered about her. My brother told me she died giving birth to me. It makes me sad. To think my birth meant her death.” I took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “My brother is a good man. A good brother. He’s always taken care of me. But I learned that he—” My voice cracked and my throat squeezed, but I forced myself to go on. These boys had to know they weren’t alone in dealing with hard things. “I learned he killed my mother. I don’t know why, but I know in my heart he’s a good man.”

I turned my head to meet the boys’ gazes. “Maybe something happened that caused him to snap. I don’t know, and I might never know. I haven’t forgiven him, but I still love him and I know he loves me. Maybe your mom loves you, but her insanity—or whatever madehersnap—has her acting from a place that has nothing to do with either of you.”

Silence descended and stretched. A comfortable one. Maybe even a tad bit sad. The truth was in the unspoken. It took a while before one of us found words to speak.

“No, Isla. Our mother hates us. She’s tried to kill us more than once.” The even tone of Amadeo’s voice just about broke my heart.

I shifted in my seat and took each of their hands into mine. “It’s her loss if she does. Your papà loves you and so do I. We’re family and we stick together.”

“Does your brother still care for you?” Enzo asked.

I nodded. “He does. I’ve gotten about two dozen messages from him demanding we talk and for me to come back home.”

“But you are home,” Amadeo protested.

I smiled. “He doesn’t know I married your dad yet. And I know Illias and I have to talk, but part of me is mad that he’s kept me in the dark.”

“Will you forgive him?” Enzo watched me, his shoulders tense. “Your brother.”

“Depends on what information he’s withholding,” I answered truthfully. “I’ll love him forever, but that doesn’t mean I can forgive him. At least not until I learn the full story.”

If only I’d known then.

* * *

An hour later, I got tired of jumping up each time I heard a faint noise, so I went in search of my husband who, it turned out, was a full-blown workaholic. Unlike me who had left my maestros hanging.

I really hoped they’d forgive me. I had never disappeared like this before, but then I’d never been blackmailed into marriage before either. Nor was I ever wedded blissfully and coerced with lots and lots of sex.

Anyhow, all of it was beside the point.

As I approachedil ufficio,I heard my husband’s booming voice. He sounded upset. Maybe even mad, and for a moment, I stood there, unsure if I should interrupt or just go back to the upper deck.

“Nobody ever escapes you, Ghost.” Enrico’s voice was laced with frustration. “Kingston. Damn it, I’m used to calling you Ghost. Regardless, now you’re telling me Donatella is back in Italy. How in the fuck am I supposed to take that?”

Donatella was in Italy? Shit, that didn’t bode well for the boys nor me.

“Any way you fucking want.” Kingston—whoever that was—didn’t seem frazzled at all. “You asked me to handle Donatella. You never said she’d gotten into bed with Sofia.”

“Why in the fuck should it matter?” he roared. “Just fucking end her. Both of them.”