A Dance of War Page 8

  “She’s not yours to love, Raphael.”

  “You don’t have to remind me. I’m yours, and only yours, forever.”

  Her eyes pool with tears, but she doesn’t let a single one fall. “I hate this, and you were only speaking with her for less than a minute.”

  “I’m going to have to entertain her this evening. We can’t raise suspicions with my father, or yours.”

  “Just… don’t kiss her.”

  “Never even crossed my mind. These lips belong to you. Now, kiss me before we have to go back out there.”

  Thank the Lord she isn’t wearing any lipstick or that glossy stuff. Her lips, as warm and plump as ever, claim mine in a heated kiss. Jamila is like heaven and sunshine, and if I could, I’d never pull away. But tonight isn’t the night to get caught. It could ruin everything for us.

  Reluctantly, I pull away, telling her, “You go first, and then I’ll follow.”

  Opening the door, she’s about to slip out when I call, “Mila.” She turns just outside the door. “You look sensational.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  And then she’s gone, and I’m left with the coldness I suffer from the loss of her touch.

  I wait a few minutes and head back to the party, where I find my mother alone, talking to Annalise, and my father no doubt expressing his joy in the idea of marrying off his son to Mr. Dupree’s daughter somewhere nearby. Mila is once again standing next to her mother, pretending to listen to their conversation with the mayor.

  She swipes her tongue over her bottom lip, and it kills me to see it. She’s tasting me in front of everyone, and not a single fucking person knows it.

  “We thought you’d gotten lost, Raphael,” mother chides, chuckling lightly, but I see the curiosity in her eyes.

  “This place is huge. I had trouble finding the bathroom,” I lie.

  Leaning in to kiss my cheek, she whispers, “Stop it now. Whatever happened with the Camarco girl, end it. Your father will kill you both, and you know it. If I noticed, you know it’s only a matter of time before he does as well.”

  With that, she stands back, makes her excuses, and leaves me alone to deal with Annalise.

  “Shall we go for a walk around the gardens before dinner? I hear the mayor has statues of demons.”

  As difficult as it is, I hold my arm out for Annalise and stop myself from glancing over at Mila. She’ll be watching, and she’ll hate me being close to Annalise, even if it’s just for show. With my mother noticing our disappearing act, I can’t afford for my father to notice as well.

  I welcome the fresh air and the quietness the garden offers compared to the stuffy air and mindless chatter in the mansion.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  For a moment, I forgot I was out here with her, choosing to let my mind stay with Mila.

  “Sure.”

  “How do you feel about our fathers arranging a marriage between us?”

  She’s not afraid to speak her mind, and I like that. But it’s not enough to sway me. I lay on the charm and swallow the bile rising up my throat.

  “I was shocked at first. I thought when I married it would be for love.”

  “You believe in love?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Christ, deception flows too easily from my lips, but I continue when she shrugs. “Didn’t you grow up believing the man you married would be the love of your life?”

  “My father has always made it clear I’d marry a man suitable to my status in this world. Love has never been in the equation, but I think I could grow to love you.”

  Jesus. Grow to love me? I don’t want someone to grow feelings for me. I want what I have with my Mila. Instant need and wants. I’m no fool, I know girls like what they see when they look at me, and I come from one of the two powerful families in Vita. I’m what people call a “good catch.” Yet I don’t want to be caught. I want my soul to free fall with another’s and be consumed with each other.

  “We’ll take it one day at a time,” I offer, and that’s the best I can do.

  “Excuse me, sir. Dinner is ready,” a waiter at the end of the path informs me.

  We follow him back inside and into the lavish dining room. The table is long, and the only two seats left are next to each other. I refrain from sighing when I notice they’re opposite of Mila. She’s going to have a clear view of this circus until the night is over.

  “Where did you two get to?” my father asks.

  “We went for a walk around the garden. It’s very pretty,” Annalise answers as primly as she can with a smile on her face.

  “If gardens are what you like, our Raphael will buy you the grandest garden in Vita once you’re both married.”

  Her smile grows, and I have to school my features to keep my own smile in place.

  “That would be lovely,” she replies.

  Darting my eyes across the table, Mila surprises me with a smile of her own. It’s not unpleasant, but full of secrets—our secrets—and unspoken promises.

  “A wedding? How lovely,” she coos. My mother tenses at Mila’s affront, while my father bristles.

  Mila’s mother nudges her and curtly shakes her head when Mila looks her way.

  The signal—don’t talk to the enemy. Little does she know, she’s had her lips on the enemy tonight, and there’s nothing she or anyone else can do to keep us apart.

  “Alessandro, may I suggest you teach your daughter her place, and that it’s not talking to my son’s fiancée.”

  Mila’s father, Alessandro Camarco, glares at my father. I’ve been coming to these dinners since I was thirteen, and I’ve never heard a word exchanged between the two men. Sure, there’s tension and muttered insults thrown at each other under their breaths, but never so bold in front of everyone.

  “You may not, Stefano. My daughter may speak to whoever she pleases, even if they are below her.”

  My father’s hand tightens around his whiskey glass and slams the liquid back in one large gulp.

  “Now now, gentlemen, let’s not ruin the evening with unease. If Jamila has something to say, I’m sure she means well.”

  I snort. I’m not surprised to see the mayor is already speaking up for her. If she’s to be his wife, he’s going to want her on his side as soon as possible.

  Throughout dinner, Mila doesn’t open her mouth, and she tries hard not to look over at me as I attempt to have senseless conversations with Annalise.

  I do my best to please my father by making Annalise happy. By the time my parents stand, preparing to leave, I’m ready to go as well, wanting this night to be over. I want to be home so I can call Mila and hear her say she understands again that this is nothing but an act.

  “Tomorrow, Ms. Dupree will join us for lunch,” my father announces as the Dupree’s stand to bid us goodnight.

  Her father is all too happy to accept the invitation on her behalf and shakes my father’s hand.

  I lean in and place a quick kiss on Annalise’s cheek and back off, putting as much distance between us as I can without causing offence.

  “Until tomorrow.”

  One look at my father tells me he’s eating this shit up. It’s not until we’re in the car and on our way back to the house that he says, “See? It wasn’t so bad, was it? She’ll make you a fine wife.”

  I’m not interested in entertaining him. I did what he wanted. I look down at my phone and send a text to Mila.

  ‘I love you.’

  Chapter Nine

  Jamila

  Father Antonio stands beside me as we serve a soup lunch to the women staying at Vita’s refuge for women, a place I come to once a week and offer my help. The women didn’t take too kindly to me when I first started helping out six years ago, but now they welcome me with open arms.

  “The streets are quiet. Your engagement and vow of peace is working,” Father Antonio tells me quietly. It’s not like him to mention business in front of anyone, and I’m not happy he’
s decided to today.

  “Ms. Camarco, congratulations on your engagement,” Rosita offers with a pleasant grin, holding her bowl out.

  I pour a ladle full of soup into the waiting bowl and smile in return. I’ve received so many blessings and well wishes since I arrived, it’s making my ears hurt. But I accept every one of them graciously.

  “Is there any news from the Marocchi side?” I ask under my breath when Rosita moves on and the women are all seated at the tables.

  “Nothing so far, but I doubt it will last long. Raphael isn’t going to go down quietly.”

  No, I don’t doubt he will, but this time I have the mayor and the people of Vita on my side. It’ll be a lot harder for him to make a move against me now.

  The quiet chatter amongst the women grows suspiciously louder, and I look up to find Alexander strolling across the cafeteria in his expensive suit and perfectly combed, slicked back hair.

  “Looks like I’m too late to offer a helping hand.”

  His voice is smooth, but no less annoying. He’s only here for good publicity.

  “There’s always something to do around here. For instance, the bathrooms need modernising. Perhaps you could help with that?” I suggest, and his smile slips, just as I expected.

  I keep my own smile in place and tilt my head slightly, giving the illusion I’m submitting to him, that I need him. He eats it up and looks around at the women.

  Raising his voice, he proclaims, “Of course. I’ll see it gets done.”

  I step around the counter and take my place beside Alexander. Keeping up appearances, I place my hand on his arm and call for everyone’s attention.

  “Did you hear that? Mayor Alexander, my generous fiancé, is going to have the bathrooms remodelled!”

  The women cheer, and I faintly hear Father Antonio snicker behind us. Alexander laps up the attention, giving me time to escape and grab my purse from behind the counter.

  “I’ll see you at morning prayer tomorrow morning, Father.”

  “Be safe, Mila.”

  Joining Alexander, he extends his hand, and I take hold of it. When he looks down at the ring, his full smile returns.

  We make our way outside. The urge to rip my hand from his when we’re out of sight is too much to bear.

  “I haven’t seen you at the shelter before, Alexander. What’s the occasion? I ask, noting Trey’s eyes narrowing on my hand in Alexander’s.

  “I was hoping we could discuss the wedding plans. I have a few ideas I want to run by you.”

  “Don’t be silly, you’re far too busy to deal with the wedding. Leave it to me. I’ll be sure to plan a day neither of us will forget.”

  “I’m sure you will, Jamila. I’ll have my receptionist send you a list of people who must be invited.”

  “No problem. Now go on. Go do your important work and don’t worry about me.”

  He strolls toward his car, where his driver is holding his door open. But before he gets inside, he turns back to me.

  “I hope one day you will grow to love me, Jamila. I hold very dear feelings for you already, and I’m looking forward to you being my wife.”

  He catches me off guard for a split second, and then I’m back to being the dutiful fiancée.

  “I wouldn’t have come to you if I thought I’d spend the rest of my life in a loveless marriage, Alexander.”

  Jesus. The lie flows from me like a snake slithering through the grass.

  His smile grows before he ducks into the car and the driver slams the door shut. His windows are so heavily tinted, I’d be surprised if he could still see me. But on the off chance he can, I keep my smile in place and wait for his car to drive away.

  Walking over to Trey, he opens the door for me, and I sigh heavily as I slide in and across the back seat.

  “What did he want?”

  The car pulls away from the curb and sets off for the nursing home.

  “He wanted to go over plans for the wedding that’s never going to happen.” Opening my purse, I pluck out my pack of smokes and a lighter. Lighting up, I let the nicotine burn my lungs before I exhale and open the window, watching the plumes of smoke waft out into the air.

  “You know I don’t like you smoking,” Trey mutters.

  “You know I don’t like when you speak out of turn.” Putting the cigarette to my lips, I inhale a lungful of smoke and blow it out the window.

  “I’m only looking out for you, Mila,” he says with a sigh.

  “You’re paid to watch my back from the Marocchi’s. What I choose to do is none of your business. Remember that.”

  The rest of the drive is unusually quiet, and I don’t attempt to fill the silence with needless words.

  He climbs out first when the car pulls up to the nursing home, and I ignore his sulking eyes as I climb out and walk up the steps to the main entrance.

  I sign myself in and follow the corridors to Father Luke’s room. His vison has been keeping me up at night, and I need to know what happens in the lead-up to my bones burning in the flames.

  A nurse is attending to him as he sleeps in his bed when I push open his door, making her jump.

  Catching her breath, she chuckles. “I’m sorry. You scared me.”

  “I apologise. How is he?” I ask, keeping my voice low as not to wake him.

  “He’s been in a comatose state since your last visit.”

  Walking farther into the room, I notice he’s not sleeping. His eyes are wide open and unmoving.

  “Comatose?” I murmur.

  “We don’t know what brought it on. He’s been like this for days.”

  I wave my hand in front of his eyes, but there’s nothing. No reaction at all.

  “How strange.”

  First, he has a vision of me dying, and now he’s in no condition to answer my questions.

  “Could you please let me know as soon as he snaps out of this?”

  “Of course.”

  Making my way outside, I inhale deeply and fail to push past the foreboding settling in the pit of my stomach.

  Trey stomps his cigarette out when he sees me crossing the street and opens the door for me.

  “That was quick,” he points out needlessly.

  “He was sleeping.”

  There’s no need to lie, but that’s what slipped off my tongue.

  I close my eyes once I’m seated. Father Luke is the last person who’s still around from my childhood. I remind myself he’s not dead, that he’ll come around, and when he does, he’ll be able to help me—if it’s not too late.

  Chapter Ten

  Raphael

  Fire and burning bones. The people of Vita wearing black. Blue eyes weeping.

  I long ago pulled the chair closer to my mother’s bed and watched her, never once taking my eyes off of her. The machines keeping her alive are humming away, and I wait.

  If she wakes again, going off on another tangent, I’ll be ready. Minutes roll by, but there’s nothing.

  Minutes turn into hours, and I slowly close my eyes, unable to fight the urge to sleep.

  Mila was supposed to meet with me at noon. She’s barely replied to my texts, and it took her four hours to reply to my last one, agreeing to meet me today. I haven’t laid eyes on her since the dinner at the mayor’s mansion, and I’m growing worried.

  What could be keeping her? From the day we met at the old well on the edge of her estate, we’ve been meeting here and not at the church.

  I debate on whether to sneak to her house when she appears out of the trees. There’s no smile, and she keeps her head down. Crossing the grass, I can barely force myself not to run to her.

  Her perfume hits me first, and I can’t help myself. I reach out and pull her against me. When she tenses, I quickly back off, stunned by her reaction.

  “Mila?”

  I go to move the hair away from her face when she flinches at my touch. Anger overrides my concern, and I drop to my knees so I can look up at her face as she refuses to look up at me.r />
  Anger overwhelms me when I see why. A purple and black bruise surrounds her eye.

  Jumping to my feet, I tip her chin up so she has no choice but to look at me.

  “What caused this?”

  Her lips stay firmly locked together, and I’m losing the last scrap of patience I possess.

  “Jamila!” I snap, causing her to jump. “Answer me!”

  “My father.”

  Her voice is barely audible, but I heard her clear as day.

  “Why?”

  A tear falls over her bruise and I swipe it away, careful not to cause her more pain.

  “Because I spoke out of turn at dinner the other night. I embarrassed him.”

  “But he defended you when my father—”

  “Yes, because he couldn’t be seen to take orders from him. Once we were in the car, he slapped me so hard, it felt like my brain rattled.”

  I wrap my arms around her, thankful she can’t see the fury in my eyes.

  If I hadn’t planned to kill her father before, I most certainly am now. How fucking dare he! Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I keep them there until her cries fade to quiet sobs. We stand there, in the middle of the grassy field, holding on to one another for far too long. Our time is precious, and there’s so much I want to say before I have to leave her again.

  “I thought you might’ve been angry with me over Annalise, but this is far fucking worse.”

  I’d rather her be angry with me. At least I could make it right with her. But her father striking her will never leave her memory.

  “I hated every second of watching her with you, but I knew you had your part to play. At least she seemed nice.”

  Pulling away from her, I hold her hand and lead her over to the well. We sit on the edge, and it takes everything in me to tear my eyes away from her bruise.

  “She wasn’t so bad, but she wasn’t you. No one compares to you, Mila. No one.”

  Fuck, I hope she believes me, because it’s the truth.

  “And no one compares to you, Raphael.”

  A small smile plays around her mouth, and I cup her face, trapping her between my hands.