“I need to grab a quick shower. Can you check on Simona if she starts wailing again? I’m worried she’ll throw up again.”
“Sure. I’ll go wait in the hallway while you get ready. Can’t leave you out of sight without a bodyguard after all.”
I rolled my eyes then headed into the bathroom. It wasn’t easy getting out of my clothes without getting the vomit on my skin. Throwing over a bathrobe, I hurried downstairs to the laundry to put the dirty clothes in a washing machine despite Christian’s questioning look. I heaved a sigh of relief when hot water finally streamed down my body, dispersing the lingering smell of vomit.
I was blow-drying my hair when I heard commotion. Turning it off, I listened. A distorted male voice carried over to me. I took a step closer to the bedroom door.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Cassio snarled.
I put the blow-dryer down and rushed out of the bathroom, only wrapped in my towel, my hair still damp. What I saw in the bedroom sent a wave of shock through me. Cassio shoved Christian against the wall, his forearm wedged into my brother’s throat.
Cassio’s gaze cut to me. Slowly his eyes slid over my half-dressed state, and his expression morphed into pure rage.
He hurled Christian to the floor, pulled his knife from his holster, and knelt on my brother’s chest. My blood ran cold. Cassio pressed the gleaming blade against Christian’s throat. Blood welled up at once. What was happening here?
I rushed forward and gripped his arm, trying to pull him away. “Cassio, what are you doing? Stop it! Stop it, please!”
Cassio bent down, bringing his face closer to Christian, ignoring my futile attempts at stopping him. “What the fuck are you doing alone with my wife?”
It took a couple of heartbeats for his words to trickle through the fog of my terror. “Cassio, have you lost your mind? That’s my brother! Let him go now!”
Christian tried to free himself, but with Cassio’s weight on his chest and the knife against his carotid, he was trapped. He couldn’t speak either. His face was turning increasingly red and his eyes were frantic.
“Please, I beg you, let him go. Whatever you think is going on, it’s not!”
Cassio didn’t react.
Shuffling sounded in the corridor. I glanced toward the door but didn’t see anything. Cassio froze following my gaze. It had to be Daniele. Cassio released Christian abruptly and shot to his feet, hiding the knife behind his back a moment before Daniele appeared in the doorway. His hair was tousled and his face sleepy. He looked from Christian on the floor to me who knelt beside him up to Cassio. Christian was pressing his palm to his bleeding throat so Daniele couldn’t see anything.
Cassio kept the hand with his knife behind his back as he approached Daniele. The previous terrifying fury was hidden behind a pleasant mask. He crouched before his son. Daniele regarded me, obviously unsure what was going on. That made two of us. My heart raced in my chest and terror still clogged my throat, but I managed a smile.
“Why don’t you go to your room and play another game. I’ll take you to bed soon,” Cassio murmured in a forced calm voice. Daniele clutched his tablet then slowly trudged away. I heard the door of his room a few seconds later and Cassio turned back to us, closing the door. Christian stumbled to his feet, his body tense. I positioned myself between my brother and my husband, determined to stop Cassio from another attack.
Cassio’s eyes sent a stab of cold fear through me. He only looked at Christian. From the corner of my eye, I saw my brother pull his own knife.
“I’ll ask one last time. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
“Is that why Andrea disappeared?” Christian pressed out.
Cassio staggered forward. I tried to shove him away, but he was too strong. The men began grappling. “Cassio, please!”
A fierce pain burned my arm and I cried out. Cassio jerked back, his eyes wide as he peered down at me. Blood trickled from a long shallow cut in my forearm. “Did you—” he snarled at Christian.
“It was you, Cassio. You hurt me in your blind rage,” I lied. I wasn’t sure who had cut me, and it wasn’t that bad even if it burned fiercely. I clutched the wound with my palm, shaking.
Cassio took a step back. He looked at his blade, which was smeared with blood. It might as well have been Christian’s. My brother sheathed his knife but didn’t take his eyes off my husband when he asked me, “Should I take you to the doctor?”
Cassio’s jaw tensed.
“No,” I said firmly. “Leave now.”
“Giulia—”
“Leave!”
Cassio breathed harshly, his nostrils flaring as he watched the blood squeezing out between my fingers.
Christian slowly backed away, not turning his back to Cassio. “I’ll call you in thirty minutes.”