He gestures for her to leave the room and she does, keeping space between them at all times.
The door hasn’t even closed when Lucas bursts in. “What now?” I heave a sigh as I get up and pour another glass of Brandy.
“Anna’s going to New Zealand,” he blurts.
I pause with my glass halfway to my mouth. I can’t help the small smile that touches my lips. She said she wanted to go, and now she is. “Good.”
“Good? How can you want her to go to the other side of the world?”
“She wanted to go.”
He shakes his head, his jaw clenching as his cheeks turn an unhealthy shade of red. “This is your fault!”
I still. “Tread very fucking carefully, Lucas.”
He swipes a hand down his face, seeming to remember himself. “She’s upset. She’s going to go there with no money, no job, nowhere to live…”
“I know you love her, which is why I’ll let this slide. I’ll sort it.”
He looks like he wants to say more. Instead, he just backs away and walks out of the room.
Opening my office drawer, I take out a packet of cigars, removing one. I place it between my lips and light it, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs. Picking up my phone, I scroll through my contacts until I find Nero’s name. My finger lingers over the call button for a second before I press it.
“Rafael.”
“Nero. I’m sending you money.”
“Am I due a refund?” he asks, humor lacing his voice.
“It’s for Anna.”
There’s a beat of silence. “I see.”
“Please make sure she gets it. I’ll set up an account for her on a more long-term basis.”
“I’ll make sure she gets it, Rafe.”
“Thank you.” I hang up. That’s it. Not only have I pushed Anna away, but I’m now facilitating her running half the globe away from me. And why wouldn’t I? All I want is for her to be happy, to have a safe and normal life. If she can find that in New Zealand, then I’ll do everything I can to ensure it because I love her.
73
Anna
I think Una hoped I’d wake up with doubts this morning, but I have none. Nero, Una, this place…it all just reminds me of Rafael. I need to live my life, not live the shadow of the life I really want. That’s all I’ll do if I stay here.
Once I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, I toss on a pair of jeans and a shirt. The house is quiet as I walk down the stairs, until I hear Dante’s grizzly whine. I round the doorway to the kitchen and find a shirtless Nero with Dante propped on his hip. He’s always hungry at this time in the morning, and Nero’s one-handed attempt to make his breakfast isn’t going down well.
“Here.” I move in front of him and take over making oatmeal. I stir honey into it and hand it to Nero. “You’re good.”
“Thanks.” He takes it from me and places it on the breakfast bar while he fastens Dante into his highchair. Nero looks tired this morning. Out of sorts.
“You okay?” I ask, pressing the start button on the coffee machine.
“Yeah. A week with this guy makes sleeping fun.”
“You know you could just ask Margot to stay. She’d happily do it.” The woman is obsessed with the kid.
“It’s alright.” He glances at his son, an indulgent smile pulling at his lips as he holds a spoonful of oatmeal in front of him. “He’s grouchy without his mum. Poor Margot would be pulling her hair out.”
I smile at the sight of the two of them together. Somehow, despite being the hardened killer that she is, my sister has managed to carve out a tiny slice of tranquility and belonging right here.
“Can you take over for a minute?” Nero asks, handing me the bowl.
“Sure.” Dante takes a mouthful, only to spit it down his chin.
Nero disappears but comes back only moments later clutching an envelope. Dante is already squirming, wanting to go down. I pull him from his chair and place him in the playpen in the corner of the kitchen.
“This is for you,” Nero says. I turn around and watch as he slides the envelope across the breakfast bar towards me. “What is it?”
“It’s from Rafael.”
Frowning, I take the brown envelope and open it, seeing a wad of money inside. “What is this?” I ask, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. He’s giving me money? Like he’s paying me off.
“He called and said he was sending me money for you. He’s setting up a bank account for the long term.”
My jaw clenches. “I don’t need or want his money.”
“I’m only the messenger.” He pours a cup of coffee. “But if you’re going to New Zealand you’ll need it. As well as this.” He takes something from the pocket of his track pants and slides it over the worktop. Picking it up, I see that it’s an American passport. Inside is a picture of me with the name Anna Verdi. “Is this a joke?” I ask.