She just laughed lightly, tossing her hair. "Oh, about nine months ago after I came back from abroad and my brother introduced him to me."
Nine months. The exact time she moved into this house. The exact time Marcello's so-called friend Giulio asked him to "look after his sister." What a joke. She'd latched onto him the first day.
I couldn't stop my breathing from turning heavy. The rage sat right under my skin. And that's when I felt it. Marcello's hands, heavy on my shoulders.
"Sweetheart, you've had a rough day. Let me run you a bath. You need to rest."
He guided me toward the bathroom like nothing was wrong.
I slipped inside, closed the door, and started undressing, the thought of soaking in the tub the only thing keeping me steady. Then I realized I'd forgotten clean clothes.
When I opened the door, the world stopped.
Not far away, Marcello was on top of Serafina. His hand ripped at her nightgown like it was paper, his mouth pressed against her skin while his grip locked on her waist. The hallway light caught the silver ring on his right hand, the old Don's signet, pressing into the curve of her hip like a brand.