I grin at him. “Your brother’s never worked for me.”
Mickey nods and walks off. He gets ponderously into the truck. I return to the Rover with Nico, sit behind the wheel, and watch them drive off.
“I made a decision,” I say quietly once the Polish brothers are gone.
“Yeah? About what?”
“Olivia.” I start the engine and put the Rover in drive. “I want her things moved into my rooms. If she’s going to be my wife, we’re going to do it for real. No more halfway.”
Nico’s eyebrows raise. “That’s a bit drastic. How will she react?”
“I don’t know, and I’m not asking.”
“Think this is the right idea?”
I shake my head and don’t answer. I have no idea what’s right and what’s wrong here—all I know is, I have to make it work with her. She’s my wife for better or worse. We’re in this, and we’re not walking away anytime soon.
I can justify my decisions all I want. I can make excuses, rationalizations. But in the end, all I know is I want her in my room, in my bed, breathing at night beside me. I want her to be my wife, not this ghostly partial thing, this near-wife, this convenience. I want her, scars and anger and all.
Chapter 14
Olivia
Elise is the perfect lounging partner. I meet her down at the pool around noon, stretch out on a chair, and close my eyes. She says nothing, only smiles, winks, and pours me some wine. I don’t plan on drinking, but it’s there, so bottom’s up.
I feel good. Useless, but good. Elise is right—she’s the queen of doing nothing, and I need a few lessons on being unproductive. Casso’s busy with the Famiglia, and I’m busy passing time.
After a while though, I get too antsy. It’s exhausting, doing nothing, and I can’t take it anymore. I stand and gather my things, mentally mapping out what the heck I’ll do for the rest of the afternoon. “It was lovely seeing you,” Elise says with a wink as she cracks open her third magazine of the day. I don’t know where she gets those things from—does she even leave the house?—but I only grin back and wave.
“You have the patience of a saint and the dedication of a true master. I admire your ability to relax.”
“It’s my life’s duty, love.” She grins at me and I laugh as I head back to the house. The staff is friendlier than they were when I first came and I assume they’re not afraid to say hello anymore. I nod and smile at a few of them I recognize, and wonder where the rest of the family’s at—Karah’s always busy with Antonio and I know the boys are constantly working—but it’s strange how there’s such a large house and it’s like nobody’s ever living in it.
I reach my room in my otherwise empty wing, like it’s my island in the middle of the ocean, open the door, and go very still.
Something’s wrong. It takes me a few moments to figure it out, but once I do it sends a sudden, intense jolt into my core.
My reading nook is empty. The books are gone, the pillows missing, the blankets disappeared. I had magazines on the coffee table, and comfortable throw pillows on the couch, and some paintings I found in an empty guest room on the walls that I liked. It was beginning to feel like my space and not some room that Karah decorated however she wanted. But my stuff, it’s all gone.
I run into my bedroom and nearly scream.
The bed’s been stripped. No sheets, nothing. The mattress is bare and off the frame, tilted sideways. My clothes aren’t in the drawers anymore and the closet’s barren except for a single clothes hanger. The bathroom’s the same: my creams, makeup, toothbrush, toothpaste, all of it gone. Even the extra stuff, the towels, the band-aids, missing. Only dust remains.
I’m furious. I’m shaking. What the hell is happening? I storm out into the main house, looking for someone to blame. If this is some kind of hazing ritual, it isn’t funny. If this is Casso’s idea of joke, I’m beyond finished with his childish pranks. I’m going to find the longest, sharpest knife and I’m going to plunge it into his heart.
I was just starting to feel comfortable. That’s the worst part—despite everything, I was beginning to think of my room as my room and not some accommodations that were given to me. But suddenly, my world’s been yanked out from under me yet again, and it’s hard to ignore the sudden tilting and shaking of the hallways like the house is built on shaky foundations.
What’s mine isn’t mine. I’m adrift, a wanderer.
This is so typical Casso. As soon as I feel like I’m a part of something, like I’m not just dead weight clinging on to the husk of some massive beast that couldn’t care less about me—suddenly he finds a way to remind me just how little agency I have and just how small I really am.