Snatched Two Husbands, But They Both Remember the Fire Chapter 03

Snatched Two Husbands, But They Both Remember the Fire Chapter 03

The main hall was all chandeliers and shining floors.

Alexander was in the big chair. Black suit, perfect. His cufflinks had the family crest—an eagle with ruby eyes. He was spinning a pen between his fingers like a toy.

When he saw me, his whole face lit up. The Don of New York, head of the Five Families, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Big sister! You came!”

He jumped up, ran down the steps. Grabbed my arm and dragged me toward Sophia.

“Deal with it yourselves. I’ve got a meeting.”

He patted my shoulder and ran off. Coat flying behind him. Looking like a little boy playing dress-up.

Leaving me with his mess.

Sophia’s face went stiff. Like someone threw cold water in it. Mouth open. No words. All that crying and performance just stopped.

I glanced at her. Then at the guy next to her.

Luca.

Grey three-piece suit. Vest done up perfect. Dark red tie with silver threads. A silver pin in his pocket—a crane flying. Standing tall and straight. Like a statue. Like he was carved by somebody who really knew what they were doing.

He stood next to Sophia, but there was space between them. His body leaned away from her. Polite. Distant. Like someone who was only there because he had to be.

But his eyes—

His eyes were stuck on me.

From the moment I walked in. Didn’t look away. Those light-colored eyes. Full of wanting. Full of holding back. Full of so many things he never said. Like a river. Slow. Moving toward me no matter what.

I pretended I didn’t see him.

Pretended I didn’t feel every look he gave me.

I looked at where Alexander ran off.

“The Don sure left fast.”

“Big sister—”

Sophia started up again. Crying in her voice. Poison underneath. But before she could finish, someone else cut in.

“Catalina. Come to my room and help me change. The medication you put on my arm in the car got on my sleeve.”

Luca’s voice. Quiet. But everyone heard it.

I stopped.

Car? Medication?

I didn’t put anything on Luca’s arm.

Then I got it.

He was helping me. Making Sophia think something was going on between us. Making her think we were together before we even got here. That we had secrets.

He was doing me a favor.

Before I could say anything, Rocco spoke.

“Luca. You don’t get to call her that. Know your place.”

His voice was cold. Like the river in January.

Well, well.

Usually Rocco wouldn’t lift a finger to help me in front of Sophia. Wouldn’t even look at me. Like saying two words to me would give him a disease.

Now he’s all mine-mine-mine. In front of Sophia. In front of Mama Ross’s people. In front of everyone.

I didn’t know why he switched up. But seeing Sophia’s face all twisted up, eyes red, mouth shaking, hands gripping her dress until her knuckles went white—

I felt good.

“Let’s go.”

I grabbed Rocco’s sleeve and pulled him toward my old room.

Two sets of eyes on my back.

One jealous. Like a snake tongue. Wet. Cold. Hateful.

One sad. Like a leaf in the wind. Floating. Going nowhere.

Sophia’s and Luca’s.

I didn’t look back.

—

We got to my room. Rocco yanked his arm out of my hand. Hard. Left a red mark on my skin. Walked into the closet. Disappeared.

I stood there. Looked at my empty hand.

“Men,” I said. “I’ll never understand them.”

Alessia was in the doorway. Looked at where Rocco went. Looked at me. Her face said: *You two are exhausting.*

—

I hated this house.

I mean, I really fucking hated this house.

I lived here from the day I was born until I was eighteen. Every corner has a nightmare in it. The closet in the hallway—I was five years old, locked in there all night. Only rats for company. The pond in the garden—Sophia holding my head under the water, over and over, until my lungs were screaming, until I learned to hold my breath longer than anyone. Until I learned to see underwater.

And my mother’s old room.

Now Mama Ross’s room. The woman who came to my mother’s funeral, took my hand, and smiled at my father: “She and Sophia are the same age. They’ll be such good friends.”

I remember her smile. Warm. Soft. Like spring water.

But under the water? A cliff you couldn’t see the bottom of.

Without Alexander, I’d never set foot in this place again.

First thing he did when he became Don? Gave me my own estate. Moved me out.

“Big sister,” he said. Dead serious. “You’re not staying here anymore.”

He gave me the best place on the Upper East Side. Best security. Gardens that looked like Italy. A terrace overlooking all of Central Park.

“This is what you deserve.”

That night, I cried. For the first time in eighteen years. Not because I was sad. Because someone finally remembered—I didn’t belong here. I deserved better.

—

At dinner, Mama Ross was in fine form.

Purple velvet dress. A ruby brooch on her collar—my mother’s brooch. The only thing she brought from Italy. She smiled at me and Alexander like a sweet old grandma looking at her favorites.

But I knew what was under the smile.

A knife. Sharp. Pointed at my throat.

“Alexander dear, you’re the Don now. You can’t just let your sister do whatever she wants.” She sighed. Like she was talking to a child who didn’t know any better. “She’s young and naive. Stealing husbands? That’s not a good look. Stealing two? What will the Five Families say? What will they say about our family?”

Alexander didn’t say anything. Just looked at his wine. Eyelashes hiding his eyes.

I smiled.

“You’re right, Mama Ross. I’m young and dumb. I appreciate your patience.”

She smiled back. Took a sip of her wine. Didn’t say anything else.

But her eyes said: *I’ll remember this.*

—

After dinner, I showered. Changed. Went to bed.

Found Rocco already in it.

He was propped up on the pillows, holding a book. Reading? No. Holding. Like he was waiting for something. Hair still wet. Water dripping on the pillow.

He looked up when I came in. Put the book down.

“You sleep there.”

He moved over. Gave me most of the bed.

Moonlight through the blinds. Silver lines on the dark floor. Like piano keys.

I lay down on the other side. A whole person’s worth of space between us.

Stared at the ceiling. Listened to him breathe.

I was too tired to mess with him tonight anyway.

I closed my eyes. Fell asleep fast.

—

Then something woke me up.

“What the hell do you think you are?! This is my mother’s house! This is my room!”

Sophia’s voice. Loud. Sharp. Could hear her through the walls.

I blinked. Looked at the clock. Almost two in the morning.

Sophia. Screaming in the middle of the night. Either she’d lost her mind, or she wanted people to hear.

—or she wanted someone specific to hear.

I threw off the covers. Went to go see.

Someone grabbed my arm.

Rocco. His fingers around my wrist. Not tight enough to hurt. Too tight to pull away.

“They’re married. Let them fight.”

His voice was rough. Just woke up. But his eyes weren’t sleepy at all. He looked annoyed. Or…

“To watch,” I said. “Let go.”

“Catalina—”

“I said let go.”

I pulled away. Grabbed my robe. Ran toward Sophia’s wing.

The hallway was dark. My slippers slapped on the marble.

And there was Alexander. Looking worried.

When he saw me, he almost smiled. That fake worried mask about to crack. He wasn’t worried about Sophia. He was thinking: *Oh shit, here comes the good part.*

We looked at each other. Started moving faster.

Mama Ross still had people. People who would do what she said. Sophia was her soft spot and her armor. We couldn’t touch her yet.

But that didn’t mean we couldn’t watch.

We ran into Sophia’s courtyard and stopped.

Servants were everywhere. On their knees.

Sophia’s hair was a mess. Face red. Eyes glassy. Drunk. Her whole nice-girl act? Gone. Shattered on the floor.

She was holding an empty wine bottle. A good year, too. Just killed it. She threw the bottle at Luca.

It hit him in the forehead.

*Thud.*

Glass broke.

Red wine and red blood ran down his face. Mixed together. Dripped on his white shirt.

Luca didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

Just stood there. Straight. Like a tree that’s been through a hundred storms and wasn’t about to bend now.

Then Sophia saw me.

Her face went crazy. All the grievance, the anger, the hate, everything—came out of her throat in one scream.

“Catalina! You love seeing me like this, don’t you? You trained them so well. Both of them. Falling all over you.”

She stumbled toward me. Pointed at me. Then at Luca. Then toward where Rocco’s room was—

“If you won’t give me back Rocco, then just take this bastard too! Why do you leave him here to humiliate me?!”

She was screaming.

I looked at Luca.

Blood still running down his face. Down his eyebrow. Down his cheek. Like a red tear.

He didn’t wipe it away. Just stood there. Sad eyes looking at me in the dark.

*You see?* those eyes said. *You did this to me. You gave me her.*

Sophia would never know. Luca wouldn’t touch her not because I did anything to him.

Because he didn’t want to.

Some people just belong to one person. End of story.

—

Sophia wore herself out. Her people carried her away.

I stood in the courtyard for a while. Looking at the mess.

Then I went back to my room.

Rocco was gone.

Bed was made. Pillow still smelled like his shampoo.

A maid stood there. Wouldn’t look at me.

“Miss. Mr. Rocco said… since you like watching so much, you can watch all you want. He’s sleeping in the side room tonight.”

I blinked.

“He mad?”

The maid just put her head down lower.

I laughed.

“Fine.”

I didn’t care. He got mad every other day. I was used to it.

—

I slept hard after that.

But I got hot. Really hot.

Then I couldn’t breathe.

Then—

My eyes opened.

Something was wrong.

Too bright. My room shouldn’t be this bright at night.

Orange light through the window. Red light. Fire light.

“Fire! Someone!”

I jumped out of bed. Ran to the door. Pulled.

Locked.

From outside.

I ran to the window. Tried to open it.

Nailed shut.

Someone wanted me dead.

Sophia.

I knew it.

Smoke came through the cracks in the window. Black smoke. Filled the room.

And just like that, I was seven years old again.

Her hand on my head. Pushing me under the water. Once. Twice. Three times. Bubbles coming out of my mouth. Lungs about to explode.

“You won’t die,” she said, voice sweet as candy. “Just hold on a little longer. It’s no fun if you die too fast.”

“When you really can’t take it anymore, I’ll pull you up.”

“Probably.”

Every time. She didn’t want me dead fast. She wanted me to fight. To try so hard to live. And right when I thought maybe she’d let me—

She’d push me back down.

I picked up a chair. Threw it at the window.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Glass broke. I climbed out. But the window was too small. My shoulders got stuck.

Smoke everywhere.

I couldn’t stop coughing. My eyes burned. Everything was blurry.

In the distance, someone screaming.

“Boss—!”

Alexander.

Then I saw three people running toward me.

Rocco. Closest. No shoes. No coat. Just a white shirt in the firelight. Hair in his face. Still had concealer on his cheek from earlier.

Then a grey shape.

Luca. Still had that wound on his forehead. Blood and soot mixed together. Running faster than I’d ever seen him run.

Then—

Black.

Alexander’s suit.

He was the fastest. Closest.

“BOSS! GO!”

He was screaming. The Don of New York. The head of the Five Families. Sounding like a five-year-old who just lost everything.

I tried to go.

But the ceiling fell.

I reached for Alexander’s hand.

Then—smoke.

Dark.

Nothing.