Chapter 15: Treacherous Thoughts

POV Salvatore

More than seeing her, I hear her following me.

“Salvatore, can you just wait a moment?”

“I'm leaving. You decide whether you come or stay, but I’m going.”

I walk around the car and see her standing there, eyes wide.

“Fine, let me grab my bag and we’ll go. That was still rude, by the way.” With that, she turns around and walks inside while I get into the car and start the engine.

Those goddamn sons of bitches!

They were looking for a reaction from me. I know they expected me to behave irrationally, to throw what I know right back in their faces, but no. I have to keep my head cool.

I look toward the front door, and Helena hurries out. The moment she closes the car door, I drive away.

The first few kilometers pass in a deathly silence. I can sense her curiosity, and I need to be careful about what I tell her.

“I wasn’t aware you were married before, but you must have your reasons for not telling me.” Her voice cuts through the car. It’s calm, almost conciliatory, and it irritates me that she's trying to understand me.

To hell with that!

“That’s right, I have my reasons, and they’re very simple: my past is none of your business. Do I ask about yours?” I snap rudely.

She murmurs under her breath before continuing. “I just want to be supportive of you,” she pauses for a few seconds before going on. “Can I know what happened? Why aren't you two together?”

I slam on the brakes, making the tires screech, and glare at her. “You want me to tell you why?” Her eyes meet mine in surprise. “She died. Happy?” She says nothing, and I see her turn pale. Clearly, she hadn’t expected that. So I decide to be acidic. “That’s the only reason I’m not with her, and why I’m stuck with you instead.”

Her mouth drops open in indignation before she recovers. “I just wanted to know… I thought we were at least getting along.”

“You were wrong. I have no interest in getting along with you. I don't care about you in any way. Now, drop the bullshit act and stop trying to be nice to me.”

“It’s Ginevra, right?” she insists, looking at me curiously. “Was she your wife?”

I nod before pulling back onto the road. She grants me a reprieve, but not for long, because she attacks again: “How did she die?”

I feel my knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.

It would be so easy to tell her everything, to throw her precious family in her face, to tell her she calls a damn murderer 'Dad'; yet, I know I must keep my head clear, not rush things. I don't care if she knows about Ginevra, but she absolutely cannot know yet that she was murdered, or by whom.

So I force myself to say: “She had a car accident and passed away. Have I satisfied your curiosity, or are you planning to be a nuisance all damn night?”

“You know, just when I think I've seen how much of an imbecile you can be, you surprise me,” she murmurs sarcastically. “You truly outdo yourself. You should get an award for it.”

I don't reply. Instead, I keep my mouth shut, focusing on the road. Helena seems resigned that she won't get any more information out of me and remains silent. I've told her what she needs to know, and I hope it's enough to kill her curiosity. At least until I fulfill my purpose.

Upon arriving at the villa, Helena is the first to get out of the car and head inside. As for me, I stay in the car for a few seconds, trying to calm my temper and everything I’m feeling right now.

When I finally manage to push those thoughts aside, I get out of the car and walk inside. I reach the vestibule and can see my father sitting there, having a drink.

“Bad night,” it’s not a question.

I walk to the entrance of the living room, maintaining a relaxed posture that conceals my true state of mind. “Somewhat, but I’m glad it happened. It gives me an excuse not to go back to that damned place.”

A flicker of a smile touches his lips.

“Good night,” I murmur before turning to head up to my room.

“Salvatore,” I stop when he calls me. I look at him with a questioning expression. “Have you thought about what we discussed?” I clench my teeth and nod.

“That’s right, and the answer is no.”

“Son…”

“No, stop sticking your nose in my life. You won't manipulate me. I know why I agreed to marry her—not because you asked me to. I did it because I saw my opportunity to do what I've been planning for years,” I state. “So, listen carefully: I make my own decisions, am I clear?” He doesn't like my answer, and frankly, I don't care. “I will not have a child with the woman upstairs.”

“You are my firstborn. It’s time you gave something back to your family.”

“It’s not my obligation. I respect you as my father, but don't interfere, am I clear?”

His only response is a long sip of his drink, and the last thing I see is his expression of impotence. Instead of going up to the room as I initially planned, I retreat to the office. Working a little—it’s the same office my father used for years, but I use it most of the time now—is the best escape I have.

POV Helena

“My past is none of your business.” I mimic Salvatore’s voice from last night.

He was an imbecile last night—well, when is he not?—the point is I didn't expect that news, but it certainly surprised me and made me curious.

I walk down the stairs, intending to do some cardio this morning. I'm wearing a black sports set of a top and leggings, and my hair is pulled back in a ponytail. I head down to the kitchen, where they are already preparing breakfast.

Ashley is at the juicer while Molly stirs something on the stove. Sitting at the breakfast counter, Aldo is drinking a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” I say, stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

“Very good morning,” Molly replies, and Ashley gives me a smile before answering: “Good morning, is there anything we can do for you this morning?”

“Yes, call me Helena, and tell me if there’s any issue with me walking the property at this hour. I need to release some tension,” I murmur. “You must be wondering why I’m so tense when living here is like being in the Garden of Eden?”

Ashley’s laughter is unrestrained but dies when Aldo clears his throat.

“Good morning, Aldo, I didn't see you,” I give him a fake toothy smile. He barely murmurs his own greeting.

“So?”

“No problem,” Ashley answers me. “You can relax. The dogs are only let loose by Aldo or Mr. Salvatore,” she snaps.

“Good, in that case, I'm going for a walk.”

I go outside and revel in the fresh air. The property has a path that circles it; I noticed it a couple of days ago and I’m going to use it. Usually, I go to the gym, and from what I know, the property has an area used by the family, but the last thing I want is to have a barbell within reach and Martina next to me on the treadmill. Too much temptation. Maybe I'll run into Salvatore and choke him again while he's lifting weights. Yes, that would be fun. He more than deserves it, the imbecile.

I start my route, and this time I don't have music to entertain myself. I want to see every part of the property, enjoy the view, and have a quiet morning. I think I deserve it.

I walk as far as I can, and the view is breathtaking. From my position, I see the open field and imagine myself on Freya, enjoying a moment of peace. A smile pulls at my lips when that thought filters into my mind.

I quicken my pace, and my breathing is labored as I feel the sweat running down my body, but I don't stop. Along the way, I notice that several workers have already started their tasks in the stables, and I decide to visit my mare. When I enter the stable, ignoring the glances of some, I hear Freya's whinny and snort.

Reaching her, I gently stroke her head as she continues to snort. “I know, beautiful, I know I haven't come by much,” I whisper. “But I promise you and I will go for a ride these days.”

Luciano, the stable manager, is stacking some hay. When he notices me, he smiles kindly. “Good day, is everything well with Freya?”

He nods. “Yes, ma'am, Freya is being treated with care,” he assures me; however, I notice he hesitates a little.

“Is something wrong?”

“Only that she was very skittish yesterday; in fact, Miss Di Sante tried to ride her and she threw her.”

I let Luciano’s words sink in and feel a kind of acid burn in the pit of my stomach. “You’re saying Freya threw Martina?”

He nods apologetically. “But the young lady is fine, it was just a scare.”

No, Martina isn't the problem. I hope she gets screwed. The problem is I don't want her near my mare, much less riding her.

“Luciano, Freya is not accustomed to strangers riding her,” I begin. “So, no one can ride Freya unless I give my consent.”

He looks at me in surprise, and several workers also hear my words. “Miss Di Sante…”

“She is not Freya’s owner. I’m sure there are beautiful horses in this stable that she can ride, and if she has any problem, she can discuss it with me, is that clear?”

My tone is sweet but leaves no room for doubt. Luciano nods.

I stay with Freya for a few minutes before resuming my path. I walk away to let out my anger. “Who does that bitch think she is, taking liberties with Freya?” I hiss. After all, she deserves that weight on her head, the son of a bitch.

I look up only to stop abruptly when I see Salvatore walking with Hades and Perseus. The man is wearing only sweatpants low on his hips, leaving his torso bare, and judging by the sweat running down his body and the shirt he carelessly holds in his hand, it's clear he also preferred the fresh air this morning.

The dogs are the first to spot me and take a step in my direction, drawing Salvatore's attention. He looks at me for a few seconds from a distance.

I look both ways, searching for an escape, when one of the mutts runs toward me, only to stop when Salvatore lets out a whistle that makes it halt and return to him. I let myself breathe and feel relieved.

I decide to continue my walk, and the closer I get, the more accurately I can see the bastard’s body. I hate that he looks so good, God! I shouldn't even be thinking about that. But my thoughts betray me. I mean, I'm not blind.

Feeling a confidence that I don't currently possess because of the killer machines by his side, I continue.

“Good morning,” he says, catching my attention. “I see you’ve decided to put on a full-blown spectacle.”

He didn't just say that, did he?

I stop dead and look at him as if he were the worst cockroach I've ever seen before replying. “If you’re referring to how fabulous I look, well, it’s not my fault I look this way.” The irony in my tone is obvious, and I don't bother hiding it. “If we’re talking about a spectacle, you are the living example. Sweatpants? Your chest exposed? And in the company of those beasts… yes, I’m the one who loves making a spectacle.”

I look at his neck and notice it’s much better today. I suppose now that his family has seen it, he doesn't care about hiding it.

One of the dogs sniffs and reaches my feet, leaving me frozen. “Don't be afraid of them; if they know you, they won't hurt you. That's Perseus,” he says with a smug smile. “In fact, you’re lucky; only Aldo and I can get close to them.” He says in a surprised tone. He frowns as if thinking about something and shakes his head.

“Go on, make fun of me.”

“I see you’re angry.”

“Why? Because every chance you get, you throw it in my face that I shouldn’t get involved in your business, that I should be like the song: deaf, dumb, and blind,” he twists his face at my words. “You don't want to talk? Don't. I won't either. You want to be an idiot? Fine, don't expect a better attitude from me.”

“Are you declaring war on me?”

“No, I'm telling you not to expect anything better from me if you're going to be the same way.”

The dog sniffs my hand, and it takes everything in me not to tremble. Surprisingly, the animal licks it before continuing on its way.

“See, they know you’re not dangerous. I guess you’re good at letting others think that,” he murmurs.

I smile smugly. “Remind that to your neck.” I blurt out with amusement before continuing on my way.

“Son of a…” I barely hear, and I can feel his eyes on me, burning.

Alright, this is getting weird.