Where the Wind Whispers (Seasons of Betrayal Book 3) (7 page)

Looming
might have been a more accurate description.

Like hell was just waiting to welcome her back, its gates not yet opened to allow her inside.

The actual gates of the mansion were, in fact, closed, but she knew her arrival had already been noticed, announced, and apparently, refused. Her father, or one of his men, could have opened the gates for her the very second she stepped out of the black SUV with a suitcase in hand.

But Alberto hadn’t allowed the gates to be open.

He wasn’t
allowing
her back in.

Violet wasn’t surprised—her father’s lack of joy over her arrival wasn’t unexpected. It made her sick to her stomach to even think about it all, but her father was doing exactly what she thought he would when she returned to him.

Even if it was in his own, awful way.

Making her wait.

He probably thought she was silently begging to be let off the side of the street.

And maybe Violet was doing that in a way, except she wished she could turn around and leave more than she wanted anything else in the world.

Violet’s hand tightened around the handle of her suitcase, keeping her rooted in place. With her other hand holding onto her purse, she could resist the urge to touch her stomach, an action she knew would end badly for her if her father got even the slightest inkling that she was pregnant.

More than anything else—above all the lies she would need to tell and the things she would have to fake—the pregnancy was
sacred
.

Secret.

Something she knew would be entirely unforgivable to her father.

He could hide many things. He could scrub Violet’s misdeeds and wrongdoings away with money and silent glares. He could make it look like her marriage had never existed—like Kaz had never even happened.

But nothing—absolutely
nothing
—would scrub away the pregnancy.

No matter what kind of man her father was, he was still a devout Catholic at heart. Termination of the pregnancy wouldn’t even be in his vocabulary. Not even a forced abortion, as Violet sure as hell wouldn’t agree to a consenting termination.

And the moment she had the child, there would be no hiding anything.

So if Alberto found out, he’d only have one option.

To kill her.

Or … Violet believed he would do it.

The car driven by a one of Kaz’s men had dropped her off more than ten minutes ago, and the man hadn’t lingered on the outskirts of the Gallucci property. He’d even squealed the fucking tires when he drove off, leaving Violet staring like an idiot at her childhood home.

Except now … now, she wondered if it had ever really
been
a home to her.

Maybe at one point it had.

Now, it just felt like a slow death.

The buzzing of the speaker on the pillar attached to the gate brought Violet slamming out of her thoughts. She tried not to show her nerves as a familiar voice crackled through the speaker, knowing damn well security cameras were trained on her every single move.

Alberto thrived best when he could spot a person’s weakness.

Violet couldn’t give him that.

God knew she was about to give him everything else.

“What can I do for you?” Alberto asked through the speaker.

“I …” Violet damn near choked on the words, well aware of what her father would expect her to say. She needed to make this believable and not like bigger plans were in the works. Alberto had to believe whatever Violet fed to him, even if he couldn’t
trust
her now. That was a whole other hurdle to jump. “I want to come home.”

Somehow, by the grace of fucking
God
, her voice didn’t shake.

“I can’t say that this
is
your home,” her father said, the barest hint of amusement coloring his words.

Violet swallowed back the rising sickness. “Isn’t it?”

“No one by your name has lived here before.”

She blinked, confused.

What game was her father playing now?

“But—”

“Your name?” Alberto interrupted.

“You know my name.”

“I certainly knew
of
your name, girl.”

Jesus.

Violet decided to try a different tactic, no matter how disgusted it made her to use it. “Daddy,
please
.”

Alberto let out a sharp laugh before saying again, “Your name?”

“Violet!”

“Oh, no. I want your full name.”

Force of habit and nothing more made her say, “Gallucci. Violet Gall—”

“Wrong,” Alberto snapped before she could even finish.

Violet quickly realized her mistake, flinching visibly from the unhidden rage in her father’s voice. No, he was not going to give this to her easy at all. He was going to make her work for it.

“Try again,” Alberto urged, back to his calmer self.

Sometimes, it frightened Violet how fast her father’s moods could turn. She had never really been on the receiving end of his mood swings before, but she had the distinct feeling that, at least for the next little while, her father’s unhappiness would be solely focused on only her.

“Violet?”

She sucked in a deep breath, needing the bit of relief it gave her.

She could do this.

Surely, she could
do
whatever Alberto wanted for as long as she needed to.

After all, she’d done it for years before this moment without really knowing it. It wasn’t that different.

“Markovic,” Violet whispered.

“Louder.”

Violet clenched her teeth but still forced out, “Violet
Markovic
.”

Her father couldn’t have possibly known, but she stressed her new surname with pride, and not the remorse or even disgust that he would have wanted to hear from her. He couldn’t know because she was careful to keep the heat out of her tone and the fire from her gaze. No, she kept her expression neutral as she handed her father exactly what he wanted.

Proof she was a deserter of their family.

Proof she’d betrayed him.

Proof she was no longer
his
.

The speaker buzzed again, but Violet didn’t hear a response from her father. The gate didn’t open, either.

“Daddy?” Violet asked.

Silence answered her back from the speaker.

Frustrated, Violet glared at the mansion just a short drive away from behind the gate set atop its small hill overlooking its empire of sorts. At least, she suspected that was how her father saw his home and property.

Violet waited another two minutes before she decided she’d had enough of her father’s games. She just turned on her heel, ready to walk the hell away and get to a phone where she could call Kaz, when movement in the corner of her eye stopped her from turning her back completely.

The front door of the mansion opened, a dark form hovering in the entrance before stepping out onto the marble slab.

She’d recognize his posture anywhere, even if he was so far away.

Her father.

Alberto took the length of the stairs leading down to the paved driveway slowly. No one followed behind him as he made his way closer to Violet’s spot. She knew her father had men who patrolled his property, yet she didn’t see any materialize as he took his sweet time walking the long length of the downhill driveway.

Like he wasn’t the
least
bit afraid of her or what might be waiting for him.

And when he got closer, the expression on his face made her think he might almost be welcoming to whatever she had brought along.

Except there was nothing. Violet had nothing.

She was entirely alone.

Alberto came to a stop on the other side of the iron gate, staring up at the slightly overcast sky. But even with the clouds, the barest hint of the sun peeked out, streaking yellow over the gray.

“I believe it’s going to rain,” Alberto said.

Violet shifted in her shoes, feeling cold although it wasn’t cold at all.

Then again, that could just be her current situation manifesting itself.

Smiling ever so slightly, Alberto turned his attention back to Violet. “What do you want,
dolcezza?
Surely, the last time we spoke was the … end,
sì
? You certainly made your
feelings
more than clear, Violet.”

Lies were on the ready, waiting to fall off her tongue.

Whatever Alberto wanted to hear.

Whatever he needed to believe her.

Whatever she had to do for Kaz.

That was it.

Alberto, however, didn’t even let her talk, already speaking again before she could get a word in edgewise. “And yet there you are, suitcase in hand, looking like someone just took your favorite toy away. Is that it? Was your
toy
taken away, Violet?”

Violet stood a little straighter, feeling like every look her father leveled on her was like acid dripping onto her very skin. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” she repeated. “They didn’t take him away.”

That wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

Kaz had been the one to choose this.

Violet was the one who hadn’t been given a choice.

“Do tell,” Alberto said, smiling in that cold way of his.

“He doesn’t want me—he’s not the …”

Again, she hesitated.

On this lie, she would always hesitate.

Alberto’s smile grew into a sly grin. “The same? Was that what you were about to say to me? Your toy isn’t the same as he was?”

Violet had to beat back the urge to glare. “He doesn’t
want
me.”

Her father let out a sigh, looking far too pleased with himself. After another agonizing minute of silence, Alberto lifted his hand toward the house like he was waving at someone. Except there was no one there.

Still, she heard the telltale buzz and the clanging of the gate as it electronically unlatched and slowly began to spread wide open. Alberto took a single step back, allowing the iron gate to open completely, leaving Violet feeling more exposed than ever.

This was what she needed to do.

This was what she needed for her father to do.

Now, more than ever, she just wanted to fucking
run
.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Alberto asked.

Without her permission, Violet felt her legs move, taking her closer to her father and dragging her suitcase behind her. A man she trusted less than the dirt under her boots.

When she was close enough to Alberto that he could reach out and grab her if he wanted, Violet finally stopped. But her father was already turning away, walking toward the Gallucci mansion.

Behind them, the gates began to close.

Despite not wanting to be anywhere near the mansion or her father, Violet hurried to catch up. She didn’t have much of a choice.

Halfway up the driveway, Alberto still hadn’t said a thing. They were in full view of the entire mansion and all the floor-to-ceiling windows, as well as the property. Violet had no doubt eyes were watching them—her mother, likely, and probably some of her father’s men. Someone was always around.

Suddenly, with absolutely no warning, Alberto’s hand landed hard on the back of Violet’s neck, making her stumble in her walk, drop her bags, and let out a quiet yelp of pain as his fingers dug deep into her skin. Violet’s hand flew up to where her father’s was still squeezing the back of her neck far too tightly.

Alberto chuckled, forcing her to look up at him as he smiled, baring his teeth in the process. It looked far more like a sneer, and Violet’s blood ran cold as she stilled under his rough handling.

“Before we take even one more step, Violet,” Alberto started to say, “I want to make one thing clear. Had you been
anyone
else and put a gun in my face, I would have had your body parts scattered across New York for the crows to pick apart and eat. It is only my love for you that I gave you a pass—and that is all it was. Just a
pass
, girl. You’re now on thinner ice than you could possibly know where I am concerned.”

Oh, she knew.

She knew perfectly well.

“Where are they?” Alberto asked.

Violet swallowed hard. “Where is
what
?”

“Your wedding ring—that engagement ring, too.”

Silently, Violet tossed up a prayer that Kaz had asked to hold onto the jewelry just in case because if the way her father was looking at her was any indication, he planned to do nothing good to the rings.