Inferno(105)

I scrubbed my hands across my face, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

‘We can talk about this again,’ he said quietly. ‘When you’re feeling better.’

I didn’t want to look at him any more. How could I, knowing I had gone to him when I should have gone to my mother? How could I lean on him with the image of his pointed gun burnt into my mind? He would always put his duties before everything else. He was a soldier first and a person second.

When I didn’t reply, he sucked in a breath and said, ‘We’ve heard your uncle and Donata are in New York meeting suppliers. I don’t know what their plans are, but when you’re feeling up to it, I think we should talk about your safety.’

‘He won’t come back here,’ I said. ‘Not after what he did. There’s too much heat on him.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’

I slammed back against my pillow, fear and rage competing inside me. ‘I need to be alone right now, Nic.’

‘I’ll come back when you’re feeling better.’ He hovered in the doorway for a moment longer. ‘And Sophie? Thank you for saving my life.’

In place of hers, I thought, as bitterness twisted inside me. What was I supposed to say to that? You’re welcome? It didn’t matter. He had disappeared into the hallway. Something sour curled in my stomach. Skirting around that night had opened the gates, and the images were slithering into my mind like snakes, and I had to shut them out and block my ears to keep them away. Not yet. Not now.

I waited until I heard the soft thud of Nic’s feet reach the bottom of the stairs, then I buried my head between my knees and rocked back and forth in my bed, trying to calm my thoughts. Think of something else. Think of anything else. It was so hard; every part of me was bound up in my mother, in the diner, in my uncle. I dug my nails into my palms and concentrated on the little half-moons of pain. The minutes ticked by, slowly, and the cloud inside me got heavier. The sun had disappeared. It was getting dark and there was a quiet touch of relief in it.





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

THE BREAKDOWN



‘Sophie?’

I snapped my head up.

Luca was standing in my room. He was so close to me his knees were brushing against my bed. How had I not sensed him before now?

I sat up, shrouded inside the bedcovers. His hair was swept back from his face so his blue eyes shone unnaturally in the duskiness. His mouth was quirked to one side, frowning, but otherwise he looked well. Smoke inhalation obviously agreed with him.

I didn’t have the strength to be indignant. ‘I want to be alone, Luca.’

He glanced at the door, his teeth nipping across his lower lip. ‘Why have you fashioned yourself like an Eskimo?’

‘Excuse me?’

He gestured at the duvet pulled over my head and around my shoulders. ‘That can’t be good for your burns. You must be incredibly overheated.’

‘I’m fine.’

He pinned me with his gaze. ‘Are you?’

‘I don’t recall inviting you up here.’

He lowered himself to the floor and sat on my carpet, leaning back on the palms of his hands. ‘Come on, Sophie. You should know well enough by now that I make a habit of showing up to places I’m not invited.’

His gaze was appraising. I had the horrible sense that he was leaning right over the waters of my soul. It occurred to me then, rather inappropriately, that this was the first time he had spoken more than a few words to me since he had twined his fingers in my hair and crushed his lips against mine. Stop.

I regressed further into my Eskimo-blanket. ‘What do you think you’re doing here?’

‘I’m waiting,’ he said.

I shook the duvet off and tossed it behind me. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘This.’

‘This?’

‘Conversation, Sophie. You need to talk to someone.’

For one precious, golden minute, there was nothing but incredulity filling me up. ‘Now you want to talk to me?’ I said.

He screwed his face up. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Nothing’s changed,’ I said. ‘I’m still a Marino.’

He gestured at himself. ‘And I’m a Falcone. Who cares?’

‘You did, Luca. That day at your house.’ I wasn’t really mad about that – it made sense, given everything – but it bore mentioning, especially since I sure as hell wasn’t going to mention the other reason he acted so weird at the Council. ‘You cared,’ I repeated, trying to shake off the sting that came with the memory.

He leant closer. ‘You’re damn right I cared,’ he growled. ‘I cared that the Marino standing in front of my entire family with a red target on her forehead was the only Marino in the history of the world that I have ever and will ever care about.’