Francesca’s crazed eyes were almost pleading for the truth—whatever that might be—to be revealed. I replayed her words repeatedly, and although things started sliding into place, I didn’t want to accept the reality that I’d come to.
Father. Francesca. Together.
“You and my father?” The tone in which Amara said it must have spoken volumes because Francesca gave me a hard, tight-lipped smile in response.
“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 on to something over Amara’s shoulder.
No, not something but someone.
Marco.
“You’ve been sleeping with my father since you were sixteen? I—”
“Don’t believe me? I don’t really care. He wants nothing to do with me now. He found out about Edoardo. Blames me for the death and how the situation has gone from bad to worse between him and the Russians.” Her expression hardened.
Pure hatred on her face was directed right at Amara.
“He wants nothing to do with me. He just threw me away as if what we shared the past two years meant nothing.” Francesca started crying again. “I thought he loved me,” she whispered.
Amara was shaking her head, and her expression was probably the same as mine—disbelief and shock.
“But if you loved my father, why were you with Edoardo?”
Francesca’s gaze was crazy and cold. “Edoardo found out about me and Marco, threatened to ruin my reputation and the reputation of my family. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let Marco know. I knew I’d lose him if he found out. He’d kill Edoardo if I told him. And Edoardo told me he had contingencies in place if anything happened to him—things that would ruin everything. Everything.” Her voice was rising even more now. “Edoardo wanted to rise in rank, wanted me to get him in good with my father. He used me like every person in my life has.”
I covered my mouth with a hand, feeling my eyes widen and my heart race a painful tempo.
“He made me do things with him. Do things to him. I didn’t have a choice. I refused to have him ruin everything. My life, Marco’s, my family.”
“You came here tonight to convince my father to stay with you?”
Her tears were almost violent as they streamed down her cheeks. “I’ve been hanging out with Claudia, hoping to talk to him, to make him see I love him and only him.”
Oh God. She’d been coming here and using me to see my father? I felt sick, my stomach roiling in disgust and horror.
“He avoids me at all costs. But I kept trying. And nothing was working. And now it’s over.” She shook her head. “If he thought Edoardo’s death was a mess that I helped cause, I’m going to make a bigger one. Because I have nothing else to lose now.”
I watched as Amara shook her head and took a step back. Something rolled inside of me, and I felt sick as I looked at Francesca and saw pure evil cross her face.
I took a step forward, not sure what I was going to do, not sure what Francesca was going to do, but time seemed to stand still.
Francesca reached inside her bulky jacket, and when she pulled her hand back out, the light in the foyer glinted against the metal of the gun she held.
Blood rushed through my ears, drowning everything else out. I wanted to charge Francesca, tackle the bitch to the ground, and get her away from Amara. But the rational part said to tread lightly. Francesca was a live wire, disconnected.
“No. You can put that away. You don’t have to do that.”
“He doesn’t want me,” Francesca screamed. “He doesn't want to even see if the baby is his. He said even if it was, it’s nothing but a bastard.” Francesca squeezed her eyes shut.
I felt everyone around me still, knew my father and mother, Nikolai, knew what was happening. There’s no way no one in the house didn’t feel and hear the chaos.
Holy fucking shit. Francesca was pregnant… with my father’s baby?
“Put that away before you hurt yourself, you foolish girl.” Father’s voice was rough and hard, scolding as if she were nothing but a child instead of a young woman he’d been having a disgusting, illicit relationship with.
The girl he’d been sleeping with since she was only sixteen.
I covered my mouth with a hand, feeling like I might throw up.
“You said you’d take care of me. You said I was the only one.”
“Francesca,” my father snapped out. “Put the fucking gun away.”
Francesca shook her head vigorously, the tears falling so fast and heavy that I knew she couldn't see clearly.