It was too much. Too much loss to contend with. My mother. The unborn baby inside Annabel. My brother who lived but maybe should have died. Who walked away, turning his back on the family.
The brother my father cannot let go of. The one whose shoes I will never fill.
Michela’s words repeat in my mind. She’s right. If he comes back, my father will want to give him everything.
And that’s why I need to secure it all now. Cristina will be that final piece. It’s ironic how integral a role she’ll play in my family. My whipping girl and my saving grace in one.
Of course, it’s not all to benefit me. My proposition will save her life.
I look down at my sleeping beauty and remember that second bed in her room from when she was little. Her brother’s bed. I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. Annabel and I were close.
I run a knuckle over her cheekbone. Brush the pad of my thumb over her lips.
She stirs, her forehead wrinkling as she struggles to open her eyes. She mutters something, heavy lashes fluttering as she tries to fight off this sleep.
She should give in to it. It’ll be easier for her.
Just like she should give in to me. That, too, will be easier for her, but I don’t think she’ll do that. And a part of me doesn’t want her to.
When we reach the private airport, I carry Cristina out of the car and onto the plane. We could drive, but this is faster.
The staff stands by and watches. No one stops me. No one questions why I’m carrying an unconscious girl onto the plane. No one will. Because in that decade that I watched her, I’ve also rebuilt the Di Santo shipping empire, and I mean what I told Michela. I am the Di Santo family now. And if we were powerful then, well, now we are formidable. I am a force to be reckoned with.
Once we’re on board, I set Cristina into a seat, recline it, and strap her in.
“Put a blanket over her and get a pillow under her head,” I tell the flight attendant, whose expression momentarily makes me wonder if I’m wrong. If she’ll question this.
But she’s quick to school her features and fall in line.
“Yes, sir.”
Most people don’t have a backbone. This flight attendant is no exception. She scrambles to do as she’s told, and I pour myself a whiskey before taking a seat at the back. I look out the window into the dark night. The rain’s picked up again. It’s been dreary in Upstate New York, too.
I drink my whiskey and lean my head back in the darkened cabin. The doors are closed, and the captain announces travel conditions and arrival time as we make our way down the runway.
The jet picks up speed, and I close my eyes, giving myself over to the sensation of liftoff. In my mind’s eye, I see Cristina’s face. See her violet eyes. For the duration of the flight, that purple haze puts me under its spell, and I can rest.
Because once we arrive at our destination, there will be no rest for me.* * *The storm in the city is nothing compared to this.
Cristina is still passed out. She will likely remain so for a little while longer when she’ll wake up with the mother of all headaches.
The Range Rovers wind along the dark, single-lane road toward the house. I look up at it, at the mountain surrounding the family home. This stretch of forest and mountain has belonged to the Di Santo family for almost four-hundred years. When my ancestor, Benjamin Di Santo, first built the house, it was a much humbler home. Every head of the family since him has added on to it, made it bigger, stronger, made our family more powerful.
The peaks of the chimneys come into view beneath the low-hanging clouds. Surrounded by acres of dense forest and steep mountains, there isn’t a neighbor for miles. It’s the perfect place to keep her.
Strangely, our family’s tragedy is what began the rise of the Di Santo dynasty. Benjamin’s sister, Alessandra, was killed in an accident in the mountains surrounding the home. Although I’m not sure I believe it was an accident at all. She fell to her death during a hike when she was only sixteen. Benjamin witnessed her death. The two were rumored to be very close and losing her impacted him for the rest of his life.
To the Di Santo family, the ties that bind some choke the others.
It’s all so enmeshed, but we’re all bound in some way. Michela tried to escape it, escape us, but here she is, back again. Lucas is gone, and for as much as I hope he stays away, a part of me knows it’s only a matter of time until he’s back.