I want to ask more, and I will, but for now I watch the security video. I see myself enter Sala at the same time someone knocks into the gorgeous woman with black hair I saw Constantino’s arm around. My entire body heats when I see him do it again, but I also see the man who was standing with them give him a chin lift before looking at the woman with pure possession and stalking off.
I know that look. I’ve seen it before. When Constantino looks at me.
I swallow hard, now seeing what I wasn’t willing to or able to before. I was blinded by jealousy and hurt. Maybe if I would have stayed a few seconds longer then I would have seen it. Maybe not. My voice is thready, “Why were they there?”
“They were congratulating me,” he says it with an off-handed air and when I look at him, his turquoise eyes are already studying me. “Do you believe me?”
I sigh and then watch the video play again. From another angle I can see the woman’s face and she looks so fucking familiar. I don’t know why. How do I know this woman?
When it clicks, I feel the color drain from my face as other pieces of information fall into place in my head. She was there. She was at the party my father was throwing when he was murdered. If this woman’s man is an assassin, and, frankly, what else could he be, then…no, that can’t be right.
It feels like my body is moving in slow motion as I turn toward Constantino. He’s already looking at me, he’s always already looking at me it seems. My skin feels clammy, and my breathing picks up.
Constantino furrows his eyebrows in concern. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” His voice takes on a note of desperation, “You don’t believe me?”
“No, I believe you aren’t fucking this woman. I’ve seen the look on that man’s face before and I know what it means.” He looks relieved for a second before the next words slip from my mouth, “Did you use him killing a man in your club to make him kill my father with Briar’s help?”
The pure fucking shock on his face is all I need to see because it’s not shock at the accusation, it’s because I figured it out. It’s written all over his features. I could read him from fucking space.
How did I ever think I didn’t know this man? How did I think he was a mystery to me? He’s an open fucking book. An open book who had my father killed.
My throat closes and I can’t get enough air into my lungs. He reaches for me, but I jerk back so hard I topple over the edge of the bed. My legs can barely support me, but it’s enough. I don’t know how it’s possible, but it is.
When I run into the closet, I can feel him at my heels, but adrenaline is coursing through me. The moment I get to the closet I slam it closed and then lock it, grateful it’s there even though I remember wondering why the closet door had a lock when I saw it the first time.
He bangs on the door, and I jump as a yelp slips from my lips. His voice booms through the door and I know he could break it down if he wanted to, “Lily! Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”
My voice is strong even though my entire body is shaking as I try and pull clothes on, “Leave me alone. Get away from the door. Don’t you fucking dare try to stop me.” I mutter to myself, “How could I have been so stupid?”
I don’t bother packing anything. I need to get the fuck out of here. The only problem is I have no idea where to go. The only person who I can think of is Daisy, but did she know? Did Elio? I think he would protect me, maybe. I don’t know how, but I don’t think Daisy knew.
They wouldn’t tell her about such a plan. They like to keep her innocently in the dark. I would feel badly for her, but right now I wish I was in the dark. I wish my heart wasn’t breaking.
I thought…no, I can’t even think about it. Even as my heart aches. Even as it shatters inside my chest, the shards of it scrape and puncture. I try and take a deep breath, but it’s difficult to take in enough oxygen.
When I open the door, Constantino is across the room pacing like a caged lion. I suck in a sharp breath and almost fall to my knees, but now is not the time. I need to get the fuck out of here.
My father’s blood might not be on his hands, but he killed my father.
“We’re done here. Don’t follow me,” the words are broken glass as they land between us.
Then I flee.