Although I want to hold her, grateful she’s safe, there is lingering anger with her for what she said, the question of what it means for us going forward. If she doesn’t want to do this I won’t force her. I’m not letting her go, but I won’t force her. There are also a shit ton of things I have to handle with Johnny dead.
In my closet, I grab a new suit and shirt. Damn, there’s even blood on my shoes. I grab another pair. I’ll shower off the blood in Regina’s old room and get dressed there.
Once I’m done cleaning off the blood and dressed again, I call Marco and let him know I need him back in the apartment. I have no idea what I’m going to come home to at this point, and I need to know someone is with Regina.
***
Regina
I watch from under my eyelids as Dominic leaves the room, careful to close the door without a sound. Rolling onto my back, I squeeze my eyes shut, but it makes it worse. I see it all over again. The gun going off like a cannon, scaring the shit out of me as it echoed in the stairwell.
Dominic moving as fast as lightning, me blinking and there’s blood all over Dominic. In a split second my whole world came crashing down on me. Dead. I couldn’t breathe. Only he was still standing, and hope surged through me. The need to touch him making me fight Vincent to let me go.
A bulletproof shirt. It wasn’t his blood, it was Richard’s. The blood spurting from Richard’s throat, I swear it jumped five feet into the air. Dominic hadn’t flinched, cold, no emotion, no anger, not even satisfaction as he looked down at Richard.
I blink and open my eyes. Light glints off the diamond on my finger. I study the wedding ring beside it now. It’s done in the same style as the engagement ring, leaves and small diamonds winding around it. Except it’s clearly brand new, custom made without a doubt to match the other.
Who did I marry? A man who flies in the only two people who had genuinely cared for me, a man who terrifies other men, who kills men without blinking, without emotion, a man who’s nice to young girls and kids. The way Alicia, Bethany, and Chloe talked about him. The way Lydia sang his praises, urging me to give him a chance, to trust him. So I did, and now...I don’t know anymore.
Just get it over with. The words haunt me, shred me all over again the way I know they did to Dominic. Why the hell couldn’t I have just asked him what we are, what he wanted us to be? Because I was scared. I was terrified he’d be as honest as he always was and tell me there was no way he could ever come to love me, and I would have to take it or leave it. And I would take it. I would take it, then slowly roast in hell as that love died in the face of his disregard for it.
So instead I hit him with words, to hurt him as badly as he hurt me, and now it’s worse because I didn’t really want to hurt him. Because I had no idea hurting him hurt me too.
I run my hand over my face, and oh god, it’s got blood on it from— I barely make it to the bathroom. There’s nothing in my stomach, that doesn’t stop the dry heaves. Once it finally stops I step into the shower. Looking around, I realize my stuff is in here beside Dominic’s things. We’re sharing a room?
The same room and bed he shared with all his other mistresses. How many had there been? My stomach revolts; no. I can’t. I can’t do it. Pressing my head against the tiles, I wonder how the hell I’m going to explain it to Dominic? He’d tell me I was being dramatic, tell me to get over it. God damn it, no more fucking tears. Only I can’t stop them.
It’s almost an hour before I’m finally dressed. Even though I’m not really hungry, my stomach is protesting so I go into the kitchen to find Marco making a sandwich.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dom was worried about you. He didn’t want you here alone with Johnny and everything. In case you lost it and needed him. I call him and he comes home.”
Shaking my head, I wonder if it’s the truth or if he was afraid I’d leave.
“The funeral is tomorrow, at noon. I’m sorry about your loss. Johnny was a good Don. I know not the best father. He cared about you, though. His last words were about you. Telling Dom to take care of you. There he was, barely able to breathe, the EMTs working on him, and he’s telling Dom to take care of you.”
“Tomorrow?” It’s the only thing I can focus on right now.
Marco shrugs. “Everyone is already in town for the wedding. Most people weren’t going home until tonight. It doesn’t make sense for them to go home then turn around and come
right back. Johnny planned everything out within weeks of him finding out he got sick. Everything from the flowers, to food, he did it already. He was always going to be buried in Chicago—he was only in New York to be close to his mom so she wouldn’t miss his end.”
I nod. Now that I think about it, it makes more sense. I just thought I would have longer to, I don’t know, process it. “Where is Dominic?”
“Carlo and him are pounding out details I think.” He takes his sandwich into the dining room.
What details are there to be pounded out? I wonder as I make myself a sandwich.
***
Dominic
The request for me to see Carlo isn’t a surprise. I assume it has to do with Johnny and Carlo now becoming Don. What does surprise me, what’s off, is him asking for it to be just me. I run through what it could be. The MC issue had been dealt with—thirteen MC and three of their hangers-on were in the clubhouse when it went up in an explosion from a faulty stove in the kitchen. The most important players in the Illinois chapter were dead. Was he worried something would come from it?
I go straight there from the funeral home where Johnny’s body was delivered already. Considering Johnny’s health, no autopsy was needed.
Tension inches up within me as I see there is no one in Carlo’s home except his maid to answer the door.