Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance(56)

But now, I had to face the thing that had woken me, as unbelievable as it was. I wished I’d kept my father’s note rather than throwing it away. At the time, I’d been so upset.

My father had committed suicide because he couldn’t live with the decisions he’d made. Because he hadn’t been able to come to terms with the fact that when I turned twenty-one, Salvatore would claim me as his. Did he have any idea how that letter would make me feel? Did he know he laid more guilt on my shoulders with that letter than he had in signing the contract that bound me to the Benedetti family?

But there was something else. He’d said something I’d just remembered moments before waking. He’d blamed the Benedettis for destroying both his daughters.

I’d thought—when I’d heard the man’s voice last night, I’d thought I’d recognized it, but it wasn’t a familiar voice. I’d thought it was Dominic Benedetti. But what would he be doing at my sister’s house? Isabella hated them more than I did.

But what my father had said…

“No.”

I sat up and pushed the blankets off. I was naked and saw that Salvatore had carefully bandaged my knees and the heels of my palms from where I’d torn myself up, running from him last night. When he’d caught up with me, he’d been fierce but also tender. Caring.

I shook my head and got out of bed. Back in my own bedroom, I dressed in running clothes. Running always helped clear my head, and I needed my head cleared really bad right now. Once dressed, I headed out. I heard Rainey in the kitchen and someone vacuuming in another part of the house.

I started at a slow jog, trying to choose some music, but then I stopped, wrapped the earbuds around the phone, and tucked it into my pocket. I didn’t want music today. I’d listen to the sounds of the forest.

Last night, when I’d asked him what he wanted, Salvatore had said he wanted me.

“At this moment.”

The swell inside my chest deflated instantly at the memory. He had to have me. It’s not like I was his choice.

I shook that thought aside. I needed to figure out what was going on. I needed to talk to Izzy, but how? How could I tell her I’d heard a man’s voice without giving myself away? How offended would she be if I asked if Dominic Benedetti were at her house?

But what if it was him? What if she’d known him for far longer than I realized?

And what if she knew about what he’d done to that little boy, kidnapping Natalie’s son like that?

“I took care of what you wanted done.”

No. No way. Izzy would never have arranged for something as terrible as the kidnapping of a child. And I should be ashamed of myself for thinking it.

I pushed myself to run faster, even though I hadn’t properly warmed up yet, and broke a sweat within a few minutes. I ran harder than I usually ran, but I needed more, needed to burn and exhaust my muscles, purge myself.

When did things get so complicated? Isabella and I were DeMarcos. We hated the Benedetti family. That was simple. It was black-and-white. But this? This attraction, this pull toward Salvatore? My yielding to him? It didn’t make sense. And my questions about Izzy. About what my father potentially referred to in his letter. About having heard Dominic’s voice in her house late at night.

I was running too fast on unfamiliar terrain and not paying attention, so when I tripped over the exposed root of a large tree and went flying, I shouldn’t have been surprised. But when I tried to stand, I had to haul myself up with my arms. My left ankle was already starting to swell and hum with pain.

“Shit.”

I looked back toward the house, but I’d run too deep into the woods to see any more than the decorative chimney tops. I forced myself to stand, leaning all my weight on my right leg. Holding on to nearby trees, I hobbled toward the house. It wasn’t more than five minutes, though, before I realized I’d never get back there on my own, not with my ankle quickly doubling in size.

Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I unwrapped the earbuds and stuck one in my ear. I then scrolled down to where Salvatore had entered Marco’s number and dialed.

He answered quickly, sounding like my call surprised him. “Lucia?”

“You know how you said to try and not get lost when I’m running?

He chuckled, audibly relaxing. “Are you lost?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m not lost, and I didn’t even have any music blaring, but—”

“What?” he cut me off, his tone anxious. “What is it?”

“I caught my foot on a tree root and fell. I’m trying to get back to the house on my own, but my ankle’s swelling and hurts pretty badly.”