I groan, trying to swipe away the hands shaking me.
“Come on. This is serious.”
When I register that it’s Noah, I blink my eyes open, rubbing them. He’s in Cristiano’s bedroom and he looks anxious.
“Hey,” I sit up, looking at the clock. Eight in the morning. “You’re up early.” I pull the covers up. I’m naked underneath.
“This has been bugging me for days. I wasn’t sure and I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong but,” he stops mid-sentence shaking his head.
“What is it?”
He holds up the small framed photo of Elizabeth Grigori and her friend that had captured his attention the day of the wedding. God. That feels like a lifetime ago.
“What are you doing with that? Did you take it from Elizabeth’s room?”
He nods.
“I don’t think you should go in there.”
“I think I know her.”
“What? That’s impossible, Noah. She’s dead. She’s been dead for ten years.”
“No, not Elizabeth. The other girl.”
“The other girl?”
“I know. It sounds crazy. Do you remember when they first killed mom and dad?”
I nod. Of course, I do. I could never forget that.
“Remember they left me in Mexico at the beginning.” They’d brought me to Italy right away.
“You’re making me nervous.”
“She was there.”
I scratch my head. “That’s impossible.”
“I’m telling you I remember her. I don’t think I could ever forget her face. Jacob had me play with her because she wouldn’t stop crying. I remember staring at her and her staring back at me. We couldn’t understand each other. I get it now. I didn’t speak Italian and she didn’t speak Spanish.”
“Are you saying they brought her to Mexico?”
“Maybe? I thought her name was Lizzie. She kept saying something, but I couldn’t understand. But, I mean…it was ten years ago. I was five. I just…I remember how sad she was, and I didn’t understand what had happened to our parents, our family. I just knew they were gone, and you were gone, and everything was different. Then there was this little girl.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m not sure but I don’t know, I can’t shake the feeling. They told me her name was Elizabeth, Scarlett. And the girl kept saying something about a Lizzie. I remember that because it was such a strange sound, those z’s. She was only there for two weeks before she was gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yeah. I don’t know where or anything. I’m just thinking out loud here, but is it possible they thought they had taken Elizabeth but took her friend by mistake? I mean, I’m looking at their faces and this is the girl.” He points to Mara.
“You haven’t told Cristiano?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to do. I mean, what if I’m wrong?”
“Do you know where they took her?”
He shakes his head.
I chew my bottom lip. “Jacob brought her?”
He nods.
“Was she ever alone with him, do you know? With Jacob?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, and I see confusion on his face. He sees I’m suddenly anxious. Urgent in my questioning. “Why does that matter? I mean, I guess so.”
No. If she was only five, he wouldn’t have done anything. If they thought she was Elizabeth…I shake my head. “Okay. Let me think. We need to tell him.”
“What are you two doing?”
Both Noah and I startle, turn to find Dante standing in the doorway. He stalks inside.
“What are you up to?” he asks. “It looks like I interrupted something.”
“What would we be up to?” I ask, hating that I’m in bed, hating that I’m naked. It puts me at a disadvantage.
“You tell me, Scarlett.” I look at him now and it’s hard to reconcile him with the man who’d jumped into that dark sea to save my life.
But his gaze fixes on the photo in Noah’s hand and rage takes over. “What the hell are you doing with that?” he snags it away. For a moment, I see a shift in his expression, a tenderness in his eyes, but it’s gone the moment he turns his gaze back to me.
He’s the more emotional brother of the two. The more impulsive.
Noah opens his mouth, but I put my hand on his arm. “Nothing. He remembered that I had the same dress when I was little. That’s all.” It’s a bad lie but it’s all I can come up with.
He looks at me suspiciously then turns to Noah.
“I was coming in here to ask if you were okay,” he says to me. “But then I see you two whispering. Plotting.”
“We’re not plotting—”
“Don’t go in my sister’s room again,” he tells Noah. “Don’t touch anything of hers.” He shifts his gaze back to me, a warning in his eyes. “I hope my brother won’t regret choosing to save your life over avenging our family.”
With that, he walks out and slams the door behind him.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Noah asks.
I’m jolted by the last part of Dante’s comment. I’m still absorbing the shock of it. I want to tell Noah that he’s just an asshole, but I see the way he is with Cristiano. I see how he just looked at the photo. And even if he did just jump into the water to save me for his brother, it’s something. Can I blame him for hating me? Hating us?