A Madness Most Discreet (Brothers Maledetti Book 4) by Nichole Van

Author:Nichole Van [Van, Nichole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fiorenza Publishing
Published: 2018-04-19T05:00:00+00:00

A few minutes later, we were back on the road again. This time headed south.

“So now we’re driving to Rome?” Olivia asked.

“Approximately. We’re headed to the Lago di Bracciano area, which is a lake just north of Rome.”

“Gotcha. How long is the drive?”

“A little over three hours.”

A pause.

“What’s the best way to do this drive? It can’t be easy for you,” she asked. “Surely there’s something more I can do than just be here.”

This woman.

Intuitively, she understood that the journey so far had been difficult and that driving hours through city after city . . .

“Tu potresti sposarmi ed essere il mio amore per tutto il resto della mia vita.” The Italian tumbled from my lips.

You can marry me and be my love for the rest of my life.

Olivia shot me a confused look.

Right.

I seriously needed to get a hold of myself.

I shook my head, like I hadn’t meant to speak in Italian. “Let’s map a way down on backroads, bypassing the larger cities and staying in the country. That will help minimize the mental noise.”

She consulted her phone, tapping in a route for us.

I navigated through the crowded streets of Prato.

Silence hung in the car. Emotions pounded—lonelinessdespairgriefelationworrystressrage.

Unbidden, the feeling of falling flared through me, the chain snapping.

It would be so easy. One step off a cliff. A building. A medieval tower.

And I would be free.

Free of the guilt of Zach’s death. Free of my selfishness that hurt those I love. Free of the danger of killing Olivia.

Most importantly, free of this damned curse—

Stop.

Those are lies.

I took a deep breath, reaching again for Olivia’s soothing void. It continued to help, but for how long? My ability to withstand the emotional battering was not infinite.

“Talk to me,” I said. Staying in my own head and stewing on others’ emotions was a surefire way to trigger a vision.

From the corner of my eye, Olivia froze. “Uhmm, okay.” She chewed on her cheek, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “About what?”

“Anything. Talking helps.”

“Okay.”

More silence as Olivia continued to chew on her lip.

Then, she abruptly changed. She straightened her spine; her head instantly went upright. She crossed her legs and canted her body toward me. A too-bright smile fixed on her face.

“You mentioned that you work for your brothers. What do you do for them?” she asked. Polite. Succinct. Almost rehearsed.

What had I just witnessed?

Feeling off-guard, I said, “Come again?”

For some reason, my follow-up caught her unawares. “Uhmm.” Olivia shifted, clearly flustered. “Your work? You said you have a job?”

“Yes. I help with art provenance and research, mostly online, obviously.”

“Right.” Her shoulders slumped and she chewed on the inside of her mouth again, sucking her left cheek inward. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes. I like helping them.”

Silence.

I pulled through a large roundabout and bypassed the entrance to the wide autostrada that led to Rome, and instead merged onto a rural highway. Tall apartment blocks flashed by—cream stucco, green shutters, terracotta roofs.

Olivia looked ahead, saying nothing.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

“What?” Her head whipped back to me.

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