Sweet Prison: Chapter 12

Leone Villa

One day following the failed assassination attempt on Nera

I watch my sister cross the kitchen and stop in front of the magnet-covered fridge. She reaches out and glides her fingers over the one with a picture of an old bridge, then she quickly disappears into her bedroom where Lucia is having an afternoon nap.

Shaking my head, I bring my attention back to what’s happening in the yard, directly under the window. Nera’s stalker-boy is still there, giving all kinds of orders to the security guards. Hopefully, he won’t kill any more staff today. We need all the manpower we have in case whoever tried to assassinate Nera decides to try again.

A shiver runs through my body at the thought of last night’s events. The look on my sister’s face when she barged into my room where I was sleeping, pleading for help. The sight of the long-haired stranger sprawled out on her bed and covered in blood. The crunch of broken glass under my feet as I rushed across the darkened living room to get towels from the bathroom. The assassin’s lifeless body slumped on the balcony. And I know there were more, scattered around the grounds of Leone Villa. Nera mentioned that it was a professional team of hitmen. Her “demon” disposed of them all.

I press my lips together, struggling with the conflicting emotions roiling within me. I’ve despised the guy for a long time for making Nera fall in love with him and then vanishing into thin air for more than three years. He left my sister pregnant and alone. She had me, but it wasn’t the same. Her heart has been trapped in purgatory.

But now… now I see that there is more to their story than I thought. Because her stalker-boy almost died trying to save her in the middle of the night. He singlehandedly stopped the team of heavily armed hitmen who had my sister in their sights. And then, this morning, he sliced the throat of Leone’s Head of Security for allowing the situation to get that far. And I see how he looks at her—like she is his sun, his moon, and the stars.

Must be nice… to have a man look at you like you’re his entire universe.

As I’m closing the drapes, my phone starts ringing. I pull it from the back pocket of my jeans and narrow my eyes. An unknown number. Strange.

Hesitantly, I hit the green button to accept and bring the phone to my ear. “Yes?”

“Are you hurt?”

The phone nearly slips out of my hand. I lean on the wall for support and suck in a deep breath. It’s not enough. My head begins to spin.

It’s been years since I’ve heard his voice.

“I swear to God, Zahara, if you don’t tell me this instant whether you are unharmed, I’ll find a fucking way to get there tonight, just so I can see it for myself! I’m losing my shit over here!” Massimo thunders on the other end of the line.

“I’m alright,” I choke out. “How did you find ou—”

“That some assholes infiltrated the house while you slept? Of course I found out!”

“I’m fine. But they were after Nera. She’s the one you should be calling.”

“I don’t give the slightest fuck about your sister right now.” His voice drops dangerously low. “Peppe will come get you in twenty minutes. You’re getting out of that house.”

My hand flies to my chest. His tone is firm and threatening, but I can hear the shaking in his voice. He’s not simply worried. He sounds… terrified. For me. Joy and excitement swell within me, spreading until it feels as if a thousand beautiful butterflies are searching for a way out. I’ve never known Massimo to show concern, never mind be actually worried, for anyone. Just one, he said once upon a time when I demanded to know if he gave a fuck about even a single other person. I took it to mean only himself. Dare I hope he meant me? That he cares about me? Just a little bit? Closing my eyes, I try to temper my silly enthusiasm. It’s likely he’s simply feeling guilty.

“That’s not necessary. Nera’s stalker-boy has every security guard watching over the house, so you don’t have to worry. And you need me here.”

“I need you safe! That’s an order, not a request.”

There is no way I’m leaving my sister, especially now. And I’m not bailing on Massimo. I’m going to see this to the end, no matter the risks.

“Mr. Spada.” A muted and nervous male voice comes from Massimo’s end of the line. “Someone is coming. I need the phone back.”

“Tell me you heard what I said, Zahara!” Hushed, quick words, growled into my ear.

The tang of metal fills my mouth. I must have bitten through my lip.

“I don’t take orders from you, Massimo,” I whisper. “I’m staying.”

“Zahara!”

“I’ll mail my next letter in the morning. Take care.”

I quickly end the call, but not fast enough, because I still catch Massimo’s furious roar across the distance.

Throwing a look at Nera’s door to make sure it’s still closed, I open the call recorder app on my phone. I installed it a few months ago when I had to contact customer service after my fabric order was messed up, and then, I completely forgot to disable it. Dropping onto the recliner near the window, I hit Play on the latest saved file and press the phone to the side of my face.

I keep listening to Massimo’s call, over and over, until his voice is so ingrained in my mind that I keep hearing it even after I’ve turned off my phone.