Melanie.
I wake in the middle of the night and rise for a drink of water.
My mind goes to the moment in the car, when I embraced Malachi. It was magical. I felt a heat travel through me. All my embers of pain and suffering evaporated in that one embrace. No kiss, nothing. And when he held me back, his arms gathering me, protectively, I felt safe.
I haven't felt that way in a long time. I haven't felt treasured since that night dad died. And tonight, he made me feel so. Stroking my hair, whispering soft words.
I walk through the halls downstairs, after drinking my water. I know we don't sleep in the same bed, but I wish we do. I wonder what it would feel like, waking to Malachi. His strong arms around me. I smile. I can't believe am even considering it.
There are art pieces everywhere and my eyes watch them, keenly. Italian art paintings, that must be very expensive. I continue to watch the pictures and I hear a noise in the distance, outside. Quietly, I walk in the direction of a window.
Outside, I see figures in the dark, illuminated by a car's headlamp. Malachi and four men. They surround another man, who is talking heatedly with Malachi. I don't hear them, but I can see it's intense. Malachi's still in most of his tux from earlier. I shake my head.
Perhaps it's something about business. Am just about to turn away and continue my tour, when I see Malachi that shoves the guy backward, violently. He pulls out a gun from his back pocket and shoots the man point blank in the chest.
I don't know when I scream. I only know I trip backward and hit my head hard on something. Passing out.
***
Bright light interrupts my sleep. I squint from its intensity. Prying my eyes open.
It's daylight, nature already announcing itself. I look around, the entire room, sitting up. My head hurts bad.
I touch the spot and find my head wrapped in a bandage. Instantly, memories of last night flood back like a dam. I panic, breathing rapidly, just as the door opens.
"Oh, thank God. You're awake." Malachi strolls in, bearing a tray.
I shriek, clutching myself on the bed, shrinking from him. He looks aghast, watching me.
"Melanie! Stop! Stop!" He calls repeatedly.
But I continue screaming, because I keep seeing the image of how he shot that man. I'm frightened just being in his presence. I cover my eyes, my ears, trying to will him away. Rather, I feel his pair of strong arms holding me tight.
"Melanie, stop! Get a hold of yourself!" Malachi thunders.
I shudder at the sound, falling into silence. The smell of coffee and toast from the tray, fills the morning air. My stomach growling from the scent, however I ignore it. I focus on my fear of him, coursing through my veins. My anxiety, making my chest want to burst.
He's regarding me carefully and I think he sees my fear.
"What is it?" He asks, warily. His tone quiet.
"Last night, I was alerted by a staff to you screaming and found limp on the floor, downstairs. You hurt your head. What happened?" He's got this tremor in his voice.
I regard him for a few seconds, considering my next words. But those words don't come, because am scared.
Tears roll down my eyes helplessly, as I see the way my parents and sisters were killed by the Heartstones. And now I discover Malachi is equally capable of killing.
I want to believe that was a nightmare. But I know differently and I can't even erase that memory.
"You killed a man last night." I choke, the tears coming on stronger.
Malachi's handsome features turn to stone. A knowing look crossing his face. A muscle ticks in his jaw, his eyes darkening. I shrink back in fear at what I see.
"It wasn't a dream…" I mutter, quietly.
My body trembling in realization. He doesn't give anything away. He just continues to look at me. I shrug his hands off, quietly rising from the bed. I need air. His presence is suffocating.
I've barely touched my feet on the ground, when his voice comes.
"He reneged on our deal. I had to take him out."
I don't turn back, am just rooted to the floor by his blatant confession. I feel sick just hearing those words from him. My stomach feels like heavy lead just got dropped inside.
I don't even know where the courage comes to say the next words, as many things become clearer.
"All those good things they say about you are lies. Giver, protector. They're all fibs. Publicity stunts, probably on your behest, to cover your truth. You're a phony." I mutter, audibly.
"That story of dough; it was money, wasn't it?" I thought it was pizza dough or something.
I still found the story ludicrous, when he told it, but I allowed him. It's his family history, not mine.
"You all are a bunch of phonies." I turn around to face him.
He's still sitting in the same position, his eyes absently focused on a spot on the ground. I hate his presence. I don't even know the reason am still in this house. I'll send him the divorce later. But first I've got to get out of here.
Am walking away when his next words halt me.
"That means you're the offspring of a phony."
I frown, turning around. He closes the gap between us. A certain confidence radiating from him.
"What do you mean?" I ask, affronted.
He stops in front of me, his eyes cold.
"Giacomo Schofield, the vine farmer, from Naples, who you adore." He grins darkly.
"My father was Spanish." I retort, bitterly.
His lips curl in a dark grin.
"Your father was my father's loyal henchman. Why did you think he was killed by the Heartstones?"