Grace paled at her grandmother’s words, and it made me want to wrap my hand around that old witch’s neck. I never liked Sophia Romano. She was a cruel and twisted old woman. But today I liked her even less.
I quickly dialed up my father. When there was no answer, I called Lorenzo, my top guard.
“Boss.”
“Any word on Roberto?” I asked. After we found out he was the traitor, I hired Sasha, Vasili’s other brother, to find him and eliminate him. Sasha Nikolaev was good, not as good as Alexei, but he would hunt that motherfucker down and put a sniper bullet into his skull.
“No, but Sasha’s on the trail.”
“Good. Tell my father not to leave the house with the boy. Keep security tight. If something happens, protect the boy and my father at all costs. I’ll update you later.”
I hung up and saw my wife’s step falter at her grandmother’s announcement. I wished I knew what my wife’s plan was. She wanted to kill them; I knew that. But she couldn’t do that here. Not in such a public place.
Fuck it; I was done letting that fucking evil witch play with my wife’s life. I took a step forward, ready to put a stop to it all.
“Don’t you dare move, Luciano.” My head snapped to Ella. Who in the fuck did she think she was? “You are going to get her killed,” she hissed.
“What the hell is going on here?” I demanded in a low voice, keeping the anger from my expression.
“Just don’t do anything. Not right now,” Ella muttered, her eyes on Grace as she sat herself on the piano. “You almost cost her her life once before. Don’t repeat it.”
What the hell are these two up to?
Ella’s gaze traveled behind me, and I followed her gaze. Sophia’s bodyguard was leering at her, and she visibly paled.
“Just don’t do anything now,” she whispered and took a step backwards, her eyes locked on the bodyguard the entire time.
Massimo must have seen the same, because he came behind Ella, ready to protect her.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her. She shook her head, remaining numb and frozen. “Nobody is getting to you or Grace.”
She swallowed hard, but something told me, just like my wife, she didn’t believe it.
“Just keep your eyes on her guards,” she uttered in a low voice.
I noticed the Romano family had their men everywhere. It didn’t matter because they were no match for us. Our men were also outside and Raphael Santos wasn’t far behind either. After we discovered Grace’s plan, we diverted our plan from the fundraiser to here. We had one of our event managers step in for us. On the way here, Cassio gave a brief overview to the men so they understood what we were up against. At all costs, save Grace and Ella.
I appreciated Vasili and Alexei coming along, though I was worried about Isabella Nikolaev being so close to the two men that almost kidnapped her. So was her husband because he kept his hand close to his weapon. Maybe we were all eager to end Alphonso and Benito, once and for all. Criminals or not, we all wanted to enjoy our life. Benito King’s associates were a different brand of criminals. More like psychopaths.
I had to admit that I was surprised that Benito King wasn’t here, considering the tight business relationship between the King and Romano family.
The soft piano notes sounded in the room, and Ella along with everyone else was forgotten behind me. Massimo would be at her back, protecting her. Vasili would protect his woman, and the rest of us were capable of standing our own.
The light tunes of Gnossiennes No. 1 played, the recognition immediate in my memory. How could I ever forget it? They were the same tunes she played that night during our short marriage, when the evening ended with me fucking her bent over my grand piano.
Everyone’s eyes were turned to Grace’s form as she sat, her fingers drifting across the keys. I had seen her play the piano only a handful of times. She loved it, the music was part of her.
From those short months we had together and how she talked about music, I knew she loved it. But I never realized how much till just this moment. I watched my wife’s face mesmerized by her transformation. It was as if the whole world ceased to exist for her. Her fingers moved expertly across the piano, her eyelids lowered, her expression distant and soft. Like that of a woman dreaming of her lover, of the day she could hold him again. There was pain, love, softness, hope on her face. She was completely lost in the music.
“Your wife plays beautifully, Luciano,” Vasili’s wife, Isabella, whispered softly, her voice full of awe. “I’m getting goosebumps from listening to it. She’s amazing.”
Yes, she is. I had been so consumed with revenge when I married her, I never took time to get to know my wife. I kidnapped her, forced her to marry me, and then became obsessed with her.
It was a rocky start for us. But it was our start, and we’d have a future. Together.
My eyes traveled to the audience. Isabella wasn’t the only one transfixed and lost in the music. Every single pair of eyes were on my wife, soaking up the music. Except for Sophia Romano. Hers were full of hate as she watched her granddaughter.
“Raphael said Alphonso never showed up to the fundraiser.” Cassio’s voice was quiet. “He might be here.”
I nodded in acknowledgement. How did I never see that my wife and I were on the same side? Was I truly that blind when it came to my beautiful, strong wife? The hate and animosity between Grace and her grandmother seeped out of both of them. Even when my wife talked about her grandmother or uncle when we first got married, there was never any love or affection in her words.
Revenge blinds you, son. My father’s words vibrated through my blood, and never a truer statement was uttered.
Grace’s fingers gracefully moved across the keys of the piano. From the short, tense interaction between her and her grandmother it was clear she loved that piano. I would get that piano for her, if it was the last thing I did in this life.
The last tune of the song ended, and it was like watching Grace wake up from a dream. Her soft, dreamy expression disappeared and turned into a guarded expression. She met her grandmother’s expression by tilting her chin up in a challenge.
The young, gentle girl I picked up at the club almost four years ago was now gone. In its place stood a strong and resilient woman that would fight the world to protect those she loved. And whether she liked it or not, I would fight right alongside her. She was my family. My life. My everything. She might not need me anymore to survive, but I needed her. And Matteo.
I have a son. From the moment the realization struck, it was hard to grasp the meaning of it all. I would spend the rest of my life making it up to my wife and son. My father was right. Grace was innocent all along.
Her uncle stepped up from the side, entering her line of vision and my wife’s shoulders barely stiffened, but she held her own.
“That will be all from-”
“I’m not done.” Grace’s eyes traveled between her grandmother and her uncle. Locking on her uncle, she remained seated. I could see on her grandmother’s face she was furious, but Grace paid her no attention. All Grace’s attention was on her uncle. The whole room was quiet, not even breathing could be heard. “This one should bring up memories, Uncle,” she spoke softly, undertone of sarcasm in her tone. “Remember how it started.”
Her fingers started dancing across the keyboard again, the tones from the piano vaguely familiar. She didn’t tear her gaze from her uncle, her expression daring him to say or do something.
“Is that “Listen to Your Heart” by Roxette?” I heard Isabella ask Vasili Nikolaev, her husband, in a hushed tone. “That’s kind of an abrupt music genre switch,” she muttered.
She was right; now that she said it, I recognized it. But what was the meaning of it? Why was Grace watching her uncle with such defiance while he stared at her like he wanted to murder her?
“That was her parents’ song,” Ella whispered. “It was the last song her mother performed before Alphonso had her parents killed.”
Shock vibrated through me, and I heard Isabella’s soft gasp. I would kill her uncle with pleasure. He should have been a dead man a long time ago.
I saw Alphonso step closer to my wife, and it took all within me not to reach for my gun. I didn’t need to look to know my friends felt the same. But Alphonso Romano, while snaking around like a dirty lizard, didn’t physically threaten. He had a sneaky smile on his pale, small face accented with black beady eyes. Sophia Romano and Alphonso Romano shared their features – thin, pale, dark hair and beady eyes. Same sneaky, backstabbing personality too. The only difference, one wore a skirt and the other wore pants.
They will both be dead before the night is over, I vowed. For the pain they caused my wife, my mother, my sister, and my father. And to protect my son.
Alphonso’s lips barely moved, but there was no mistake that he whispered something to my wife. Whatever he said had Grace’s jaw clenched, and the music stopped mid song with Grace slamming the keyboard cover down, covering the keys.
Every single pair of eyes in the room were on them with anticipation. The air stilled, hushed gasps echoed, and the room fell silent. It was a grim kind of silence that led to a moment that would mark a catastrophe, like pulling out my gun and shooting that fucker Alphonso clear across the room and starting a full-blown war.
Grace stood up from the piano stiffly, her eyes never wavering from her grandmother and uncle. While the latter two kept artificial smiles on their faces, Grace’s expression was stoic. She wouldn’t give them the pleasure of faking anything. My wife has grown a spine and spread her wings.
She neared her grandmother and spoke into the microphone, her eyes locked on the man and woman that should have protected her but instead sold her out.
“Thank you for letting me play for you.” Grace’s soft voice boomed through the microphone. “My grandmother decided generously to have my mother’s piano transported to my husband’s place instead of burning it to ashes.” She paused, letting the meaning sink in. “Isn’t that wonderful? We should give a round of applause.”
Grace’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but the audience either ignored it or didn’t pick up on it.
“I really like your wife,” Vasili Nikolaev deadpanned.
“Oh, this is nothing. You should see her hit list.” Cassio chuckled, half-serious and half-joking. “I believe Alphonso and Sophia Romano along with the King family are at the top of that list.”
“Smart woman,” Nico chimed in, and I could hear a smile in his voice.
Ignoring them all, I watched Grace disappear behind the heavy, plush red curtains.
“What’s back-” Turning to face Ella, I realized she was gone. “Where is Ella?” I questioned Massimo.
“Goddamn it,” Massimo gritted. “Why is it that those two always sneak away without being noticed?”
“Probably because they got good at it,” Alexei answered, unperturbed.
“Can you all split up, and keep an eye out?” The Romano’s better not touch one single hair on my wife’s head. I’d tear them up limb to limb.
“Go find your wife,” Cassio uttered. “We got this.”
I rushed towards the curtain that Grace disappeared behind, but the room behind it was empty. A large backstage had a single wooden chair placed by the window, and nothing else.
I rushed across the wooden floors towards the single door. They had to go through it, there was no other way out. Either through this door or back through the ballroom.
The door took me to the back of the hallway, the marble back stairs leading to the staff area. The waiting staff was busy going back and forth, not paying attention to the fact they had a stranger hanging out in this area. It told me it probably happened often.
While the front of the house shone, the servants’ area was darker with lifeless colors. It reflected Romano’s disregard for those lesser than themselves. At our house, we often spent time in the kitchen, along with our staff. They were pretty much part of our family.
The sounds of the staff working bounced off the bare walls, the sound traveling both ways. An older woman, with wrinkles and pain etched on her face, passed by me for the second time. She threw me a curious glance but said nothing. Years of training and fear, I presumed.
“Did you see Grace, the Romano niece, pass by here?” I asked her.
Recognition flashed in her eyes and her eyes darted around us, as if she wanted to ensure nobody was around.
“They went to the back gardens and through the maze.”
“Thank you.”
“I can’t find a sign of them,” Massimo’s voice reached behind me and the woman paled.
“You have nothing to fear from us,” I assured her. “If you want to leave this place, we can help.”
She nodded her acknowledgement. “Help Miss Grace first. Miss Ella too. They don’t deserve what Mrs. Romano has in store for them.”
I intended to. Both Massimo and I rushed through the back door, while Massimo sent a quick message that the ladies were somewhere in the back garden. The second we stepped outside, I spotted the maze and ran towards it. I wore a tuxedo, but I always combined every outfit with combat style shoes that would allow me to run. I never depended on my men to protect me. We protected each other.
The green bush of the entrance into the maze was empty, but a shred of black material hung ripped on one of the branches. They took her this way!
Up close the hedgerows are roughly eight feet tall, a perfect manicured green maze with the lingering scent of the last days of the summer. The maze would be my path to my prize. My wife. I would find her, protect her, and cherish her with my last dying breath.
On the second turn, both Massimo and I came to a halt. Alphonso Romano waited for us with ten guards at the second turn into the maze. That piece of shit was expecting us. His gun raised, he pointed at us and his men mimicked the movement.
Fucking coward! Always hiding behind his men.
“Not a step further, Vitale,” he spat out. “Or your wife will get a bullet into that pretty skull of hers.”
“You lay a finger on her,” I gritted, “and there is nowhere on this Earth you can hide. I’ll burn this world down till I get my hands on you and kill you. You fucking piece of shit.”
His beady gaze glanced at his men to ensure they were still there. Yes, you piece of shit, better pray they don’t leave you. He was a dead man; it was only a matter of time.
Massimo and I both had our guns trained on Alphonso and his men. Eleven against two; I had worse odds before. I would pull through, if only to save my wife.
A gun echoed in the distance and a woman’s scream pierced through the night. Without another delay, both of us drew guns simultaneously and started shooting.
