When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(97)

“You did it anyway, tesoro,” I mutter and take a swig from my glass.

I leave the bedroom and head back downstairs, tapping my glass against the wooden banister as I go down the steps.

Clank, clank, clank.

It’s so fucking quiet in here. Has it always been this quiet in this house?

The doorbell rings.

Cleo.

That’s an insane idea. She’s too proud for that. She’ll never come back here, not after how I treated her. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?

There’s another knock, louder this time. Why isn’t anyone opening the door? Then I remember I dismissed all the staff. I couldn’t bear the questioning looks they kept giving me as I roamed the halls. Luca was the only one brave enough to utter her name. He asked if I knew how she was. I roared at him to get out. Roared at all of them to leave for three weeks. As if that will be long enough for me to forget her and glue myself back together.

What a fucking joke.

I turn the lock and open the front door. My sisters stand in front of a black car.

I frown. “What are you doing here?”

“Let us in,” Elena demands, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder with an angry flick of her hand. “You’ve kept us waiting out here long enough.”

I step aside, letting her and Fabi pass.

The second I close the door, Elena whirls around and gives me a scathing look. “You look like shit.”

I catch my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. She’s right. I look like I haven’t slept in weeks. Truth is, I don’t think I’ve gotten more than three hours a night since Nero and Cleo left.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she says, her tone accusing.

Fabi touches my arm. Her gaze drops to the glass in my hand. Worry flashes across her features, and for a second, I think she’s going to embrace me.

Thankfully, she holds herself back. We never hug. It’s not the kind of affection I’ve ever welcomed.

“We want to talk,” Fabi says. “Let’s sit down.”

The alcohol is making my brain sluggish. I’m still trying to process the fact that they’re here. “When did you get in?”

“We came straight from the airport.” She tugs on my sleeve. “Come.”

I follow her, feeling like a stranger in my own home. Elena walks behind us. We spread out in the living room. I sink into the sofa and finish off half of my whiskey in one gulp. Fabi and Elena sit down across from me. An expectant air fills the room, the kind that precedes a difficult conversation.

My sisters and I don’t have those kinds of conversations though. In fact, we barely talk. They don’t like me very much. And I don’t know them very well. We’re family, but we aren’t friends. I’d die for them, but I’d never go to them for help.

I place my glass on the side table. “You said you want to talk. So talk.”

Elena clenches her fists in her lap. “We heard what happened to Cleo and her father. We heard Nero is gone.”

“Correct.”

Fabi swallows “When you say gone, you mean…”

“Gone gone.”

A stunned silence permeates through the room. My sisters have known Nero for most of their lives, but they weren’t close with him either. And yet Fabi starts crying. Elena swears and turns to comfort her. I watch them embrace, Fabi tucking her face against Elena’s shoulder.

Must be nice to have someone hold you when you’re upset.

I stand up. I don’t know what to do with myself. Every movement feels wrong, like I’m an actor on stage but I’ve lost the script.

“I’ll get you some water,” I mutter.

Elena shoots me a glare over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need water. Sit down.”

It’s like she wants me to witness this. Why? “I don’t understand. You weren’t friends with Nero.”

“Damn it, Rafe. So what? We still cared for him. And Fabi’s not just crying over Nero. She’s crying over you. He was your best friend, wasn’t he? Is it true that you gave the order to kill him?”

“Yes.” The next part comes easily. It’s rehearsed and memorized. “I had to. It was the only way to avoid war with the Ferraros.”

Fabi pulls away from Elena and sniffles. “It’s so horrible. How are you feeling? Are you all right?”

How do I explain the mix of anger, sadness, and regret inside of me? I don’t know how to put it into words.

“Of course, he’s all right,” Elena snaps. “He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. One day, he nearly loses his wife. The next day, he kills his consigliere. Tomorrow, he’ll execute some poor bastard for looking at him wrong. It’s all the same to him, Fabi. He’s just like our dad was. Empty.”

“Stop it,” Fabi begs. “You’re being cruel.”

“Cruel?” Elena demands. “I’m not the cruel one here. I’m stating facts. Aren’t I, Rafe?”

I meet Fabi’s teary gaze, and it touches me somewhere deep. A place I’ve tried to ignore so fiercely and for so long, but I don’t think I can ignore it anymore.

Sinking back down on the sofa, I hang my head. I’ve never felt more alone.

“Cleo is gone,” I rasp. “I told her I want a divorce.” It’s hard to speak when my throat is this tight.