Chapter 4:
*Evangeline's POV*
"Have you seen Vincenzo?" I asked Aunt Clara for what felt like the hundredth time that day. My voice came out more strained than I intended, the edge of worry creeping in.
"Are you still looking for him?" she replied, adjusting her pearl earrings in the mirror with a slight huff. She didn't even glance in my direction, her focus was bent on perfecting her appearance for the funeral.
It had been two days since I last saw Vincenzo. Two days of silence and uneasy anticipation.
After seeing him so freely wield a gun in front of me, I have grown worried of what he does when he isn't in front of me. And not to mention he left injured.
The look of horror on the poor maids face when she saw the blood and broken ornaments on the carpets will never not be funny.
Today was the day of my father's funeral, and I felt Vincenzo should be here, even if only out of obligation–that's the least he could do.
Funerals in my family were rushed affairs, something I used to chalk up to tradition, but now…now I wondered if there were other reasons why the Hidalgo family was always so quick to bury their dead.
I glanced around the guest house where Aunt Clara had been staying. It looked eerily similar to the one I'd been in with Vincenzo, and his face inches from mine and his body hovering me flashed in my mind.
Live goosebumps pricked my skin. I curse myself internally and held the rosary.
"I thought he would be here for the funeral,that's all."
Aunt Clara finally turned to face me, her eyes narrowing. "I will not have someone from the Del Toro family at my brother's funeral anyway,you have more important things to be focused on."
"Auntie, it's not like that—"
"I will take no argument." Her voice was sharp, cutting off any retort I might have had.
She sighed after a moment, her expression softening, and pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, cariño," she whispered against my cheek. "This isn't the time for fighting. I suppose I'm just a bit nervous about the press today. They'll be swarming the church, asking questions." She released me and returned to fixing her hair. "Sometimes I wish your father hadn't been so charitable. It brought too much attention to the family."
Her words hit me hard, making my stomach twist. My father… The reminder of his position—the man who had worn two faces, one for the public and me another, darker one, in private—made me feel sick,and I felt even worse at myself for feeling sick about him.
"Take it easy," Aunt Clara said, patting my cheek gently before turning back to the mirror.
As we arrived at the church, the glare of camera flashes blinded me. The press were already gathered, waiting like vultures. I could hear them shouting as we stepped out of the car, their voices blending into a mix of accusations and demands.
"Miss Hidalgo, was your father's death natural?"
"Is there truth to the rumors about his corruption with the foundation?"
Each question was a dagger aimed at my already fragile composure. I kept my head down, trying to block out the noise, but it was impossible. The weight of the cameras felt like chains, dragging me down.
I felt like a hypocrite.
My father's sins were on my hands, at least that's how it felt. No matter how hard I tried to distance myself from him, from all the blood and lies,I always find myself back in the middle of it.
My throat felt tight, as if I might choke if I tried to form words.
Something very deep in my core wished someone was here for me to crouch under.
I rebuked it and tightened my fist on the cross.
The burial was a blur. I hardly registered the eulogy, the prayers, or even the tears of those around me.
I felt numb,realizing I was drifting through the motions of a nightmare I couldn't wake from.
When I tried to be present, I found the fate of Marlene.
She was especially loud as she wailed,holding on to the uncomfortable pope as he blessed the body.
The scene was enough to send me back maladative dreaming,and I stayed safe there till it was all over.
When it was finally over and we returned to the estate, I was greeted by a new source of tension the moment I stepped in.
A driver and two men had arrived, sent by Vincenzo.
"They're here to take you home," one of the men informed me as he held the door open.
"No,no,no–It's too soon," Aunt Clara protested, her voice sharp with disapproval,clutching me. "She's just lost her father, and now she's expected to leave? And where?This is absurd."
Marlene stepped foward. "Can't she at least stay the night at home?"
I looked expectantly at Robert but he remained silent.
My shoulders dropped.
"I think I should go."
The driver didn't flinch. He merely stood by the car, waiting.The two bodyguards by his side remained stationary as well
"Yes," Robert stepped in, his tone a bit hoarse from crying. "It's better this way. Let her go back."
The rest of my family stood defeated,watching me with expectations of a fight.
I had always got my way.
I opened my mouth to protest, but one look from Robert silenced me. I could see the strain in his eyes—the same weariness I felt. It wasn't worth the fight.
"Let me get my things," I muttered.
I hurried to my guest house, grateful for the brief time alone. I needed to think.
I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed Luca.
I missed him terribly already and I needed his calming professional voice telling me everything will be okay,and that it was only a few hours to our freedom.
But Luca didn't pick up. Not a good sign.
I frowned, sending a quick text: Are you okay?
It wasn't like him to leave me hanging, not with so much at stake. My fingers tapped nervously on the screen as I waited for his reply, my heart pounding in my chest.
After what felt like an eternity, my phone buzzed with a response: Yeah, just a little busy right now. Everything's still on for tomorrow. Don't worry.
I exhaled, though the knot in my stomach remained. Something about his message felt off, but I pushed the thought aside. I have been told I worry way too much sometimes…It's fine, Evangeline. He's just busy,I glance around the room one last time,at the statue that tried actually listened and tried to reunite me with my father,where Vincenzo had bled–I couldn't even tell where that was.
The room was so clean and arranged it was as if none of that ever happened.
That made me a bit sad.
I was beginning to like the chaos.
The drive home felt longer than it should have, and by the time I stepped into the house, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.
I groaned and stared down at my heels,debating whether to take them off or not.
I decided to hold on till I entered into the house so I dont have to walk barefoot on the pavement.
My sixth sense alerted me that I wasn't alone and I immediately shot my eyes up.
Of course,as my twisted fate would have it,it was him.
He stood at the window, his back to me, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. The faint smell of tobacco filled the air, mixing with the sharp scent of whiskey. His jacket was draped over the arm of the chair, and his white dress shirt casually rolled up to his elbows.
I took a deep breath, the tension from earlier returning with a vengeance. He hadn't come to the funeral, hadn't shown his face for two days,leaving everyone to give me pitiful looks and now here he was,with the same air of authority as the devil.
I glanced around for maids before I began speaking,it's not proper to argue in front of them.
"Where were you?" I asked, my voice quiet.
Vincenzo took a slow drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. His movements were calm, perhaps too much of it if we are being honest.
When he finally turned to face me, his dark eyes were unreadable.
Almost scary. The deep blue that I thought were beautiful few nights ago now seemed ghastly all of the sudden.
"I had things to handle," he said, his voice seeping into my system like the addictive smell of whiskey that hung in the air.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Do you want to know the details?" he offered, his now amused gaze locking onto mine.
"No," I said quickly, my voice steadier this time. "Your business doesn't interest me."
He chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. "Smart bunny."
I shifted uncomfortably.
Luca called me bunny.
How did he–
God what am I thinking,bunny is such a popular nickname.
Still it sounded not so innocent coming from his mouth.
I swallowed,watching him as he poured himself another drink, the ice clinking softly in the glass.
My nerves were fraying, and I needed to get away from him, but my curiosity kept me rooted in place.
"Are you staying the night?"
He stays silent for a bit.
"No."He drowns the bottle and grabs his coat. "I wanted to make sure you made it here safe."
"Oh,"My voice begins to trail off as he approaches me. My mind begins to feel clouded already. I beg all gods in heaven to give me strength to appear normal as his head lowers to my ear.
No part of him touches me,but his bodily heat mixing with mine was enough to do the trick,I could feel goosebumps prickling already.
"I have one more pre wedding gift you."
I never understood how a full blooded Italian man's tongue would have such a strong British accent, I strongly believe he adapted it purely for the sake of being an aristocratic snob.
"I–another?." I managed with only one stammer,my fingernails digging into the poor leather coat that was unfortunate enough to be in my hands.
He pulls back and holds my gaze.
"Of course."He smirks and raises an eyebrow simultaneously. "You do like my gifts don't you."
I nodded slowly and he took a second to unnecessarily watch me,his eyes full of glint.
"Goodnight?"
"Goodnight."I tight-smiled.
He took a few steps away,taking his condescending height along with him.
I shut my eyes tight,my heart waiting on the door to shut.
It takes forever and a day but the door shuts and I release a breath I wasn't aware I was keeping captive.
The wetness building up between my legs was becoming impossible to ignore.
Something was either seriously wrong with me or my instincts were telling me something--my instincts were probably not informed that there are better ways to do the trick.
I rushed up the stairs and checked my chart aggressively,and to my greatest relief–I found it was an ovulation day. That's why I've been attracted to that man lately,it all makes sense.
My hands hover over my phone to check in with Luca but the liquid guilt of what sat in my panties will not allow me to hear his voice,so instead I washed and said an extra five minutes of prayer for my soul.
I will definitely as much blessing as I can get for the upcoming events.
But looking back now,I should have prayed for at least more six hours…maybe that would have helped.