I felt Nikolai’s hand curl around my wrist and then he was pulling me back to his side.
“Claudia,” my father barked out once he was back in the sitting room. “Deal with her and get her out of the house. She’s causing a scene.”
Claudia looked at me with wide eyes and confusion on her face before she left the room and went to tend to Francesca.
“What was that about?” I asked but my father didn’t answer. He paced back and forth as he ran a hand over his hair. He murmured low, his words muffled so I couldn’t understand him clearly.
I looked at Nikolai, who gripped my waist with his firm hand, squeezing me gently in reassurance. I slipped out of the room and walked into the foyer, where Francesca was still standing. She was sobbing at this point, and the closer I got to her, the more I realized she wasn’t just upset. She was drunk. The scent of alcohol poured from her.
My heart hurt for her. I could only assume how much pain she was in over Edoardo. It wasn’t like she could actually confess her feelings about him. She’d have to take that secret to the grave with her or risk tarnishing her and her family’s reputation.
“Francesca?” I said in a gentle voice and stopped a few inches from her, not moving or speaking again until she sniffed, wiped her cheeks, and then looked up at me.
She wiped her eyes quickly and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I just… I felt so out of control. I walked out of my house and didn’t realize I was here until I was knocking on the door.” She wiped away a few more errant tears again I looked over my shoulder and into the sitting room to where everyone still was.
“I’m sorry if my father said something that upset you further. He’s… well, he’s like all the men in our lives.” I knew she would understand what I meant, but what I didn’t expect from her was the expression on her face. Narrowed eyes and pure hatred.
For long moments she didn’t speak to me, just stared as if I were the worst thing she’d ever seen. It was as if a switch had been turned inside of her. Gone was the girl who appeared to have a broken heart and in her place was one who appeared to not even have one.
“Look at you,” she sneered. “Got everything you wanted. A marriage where your husband clearly treats you well.” She pursed her lips. “The way I’ve seen him look at you…” she shook her head. “A man who would level anything who tried to hurt you. He’d never toss you away.”
I had no idea what the hell was going on. “Is everything okay?” Something inside of me said I needed to back away, to go back to Nikolai, the room full of people. But I had a feeling I knew what this was about. She probably blamed me for Edoardo’s death.
If I hadn’t stepped into that hallway, hadn’t seen what I’d seen, Edoardo wouldn’t have a bullet in his head thanks to my husband.
And a part of me couldn’t blame Francesca, couldn’t hold any ill will toward her in that regard. If the roles reversed and something happened to Nikolai, I would’ve definitely blamed Francesca as well.
I found myself lifting my hand and placing it over my heart, my chest suddenly aching , a premonition that something horrible was going to happen.
Nikolai.
I looked over my shoulder and could see him and my father speaking. I was thankful no one was paying attention to me out here.
“This is all your fault. It has been from the very beginning.”
I faced forward again, my face no doubt showing my utter shock and confusion. “I’m sorry about what happened to Edoardo. It was a ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ kind of thing. I know how hard this must be for you, especially since you can’t tell anyone about your relationship or how you felt about him.”
Francesca slowly shook her head. “Edoardo?” she chuckled humorlessly again. “You think this is about him?”
“I–”
“No, this is about how you ruined everything.” Her voice was high-pitched. It was reminiscent of what I assumed someone sounded like who was losing their mind. “Do you think these tears are for Edoardo? Stupid bitch. No, I’m not crying because he died. I’m crying because Marco found out what I was doing behind his back with that low-life foot soldier.”
For a minute I was stunned speechless. I had no idea what she was talking about. What did my father have to do with this? I looked over my shoulder again but Nikolai and Marco were still speaking. The longer I looked at my father, the more my thoughts started turning.
I don’t understand,” I said softly and faced her once more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You were afraid my father would find out about you and Edoardo? Why would he care?” I held my hands out, palms up, shaking my head.
“Are you really that dense? You really can’t let the truth sink in.” She took a small step toward me. “Really think about it, Amara. Really think about what I’m telling you right now.” She gave a humorless laugh and shook her head. “I have nothing now. Nothing to lose. I don’t care who knows the truth.”
I looked into Francesca’s crazed eyes, replayed her words over and over again, but I didn’t want to accept the truth that I’d come to. I didn’t want that to be my reality because it made no sense.
“You and my father?” The tone in which I said it must have spoken volumes, because she gave me a hard, tightlipped smile.
“Since I was sixteen. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was at first. He’s not a gentle man, as I’m sure you would know being his daughter. But over the last two years I grew to love him.” The smile she sported now was as if she were recalling a time that made her happy, and her gaze was latched onto something over my shoulder. No, not something, but someone.
“You’ve been sleeping with my father since you were sixteen?” The voice didn’t sound like my own. “I—”
“Don’t believe me? I don’t really care. He doesn’t want anything to do with me now. He found out about Edoardo, blames me as well for the death and how the situation has gone from bad to worse between him and the Russians.” Her expression hardened. I saw pure hatred on her face directed right at me. “He wants nothing to do with me. He just threw me away as if what we shared the past two years meant nothing.” She started crying again, but it wasn’t one of sadness. It was one of pure rage. It was one that a human had who had nothing else to lose. “I thought he loved me,” she whispered.