Dominic stood on the front steps and watched the car drive off. He remained there until it disappeared down the thickly wooded road. He then glanced up at the window as if he knew I stood there. Our gazes locked, and my heart momentarily lost a beat. He turned to one of the men flanking him—of which there stood two, bodyguards I realized—and I stepped away from the window to dress and then went downstairs.

The door to the study stood open, and I heard Dominic speaking inside. I forced myself to walk into it, wondering if it would smell like it had yesterday—the metallic scent of blood mixed with fear and hate. But the desk had been moved, and the carpet was gone. Only bare floorboards remained.

Dominic looked up at me and told whoever he spoke with he had to go. After hanging up, he stood.

“Gia.”

I looked for evidence along the walls, splatterings of blood, of tissue, but none remained.

“It’s been cleaned,” Dominic said, coming to my side. “You’re probably hungry. Let’s go have breakfast.”

He spoke so casually. “Does what happened yesterday upset you?” I asked as he led me out of the room.

He paused. “I wouldn’t say it upsets me, but it’s not like I’m dancing with joy here, Gia. He was my uncle. He played ball with me when I was little. I don’t remember him not being in my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond. We walked into the dining room, where a buffet of warm and cold foods sat waiting on the table. Dominic poured two cups of coffee, and I took one, not feeling hungry enough to eat.

“I thought I’d feel better,” I said.

He set his cup down, took a plate, and began to fill it with scrambled eggs and bacon.

“You never do.”

He spoke without looking at me.

“You just figure out how to go on.” He chose a seat and began to eat. “Eat, Gia.”

I picked up a plate and stood there, wondering if I’d ever have an appetite again.

“Tell me something,” he asked.

I still hadn’t moved to fill my plate.

“What do you want?” He leaned back in his chair and chewed on a strip of bacon.

“What do you mean?”

He studied me as if taking my measure.

“What they did to your brother, to you…What do you want?”

I understood what he was getting at, and I steeled myself, knowing exactly what I wanted, knowing who I was, what I could live with. I turned to the buffet and filled my plate, then sat down beside him to eat. He nodded and picked up his fork again.

“Salvatore and Lucia had to catch their flight home. They asked me to tell you good-bye.”