Nico’s expression softens at the mention of his wife, and for once, I understand where it’s coming from.
To be honest, we were the main winners in this entire twisted game because out of it we found our reason for existing.
The Diamond Dynasty for sure because we discovered three beautiful diamonds, flawless, perfect and dazzling and no amount of riches could ever compare to how invaluable they are to us.
CHAPTER 49
TIFFANY
Ican’t believe we are home. This has been the most agonizing, yet liberating few days of my life, and it has brought a certain kind of peace with it.
We traveled to our home this time with no fear. Holding the hands of our future as we revisited the past.
It was strange being back, almost ghostly, and as I wandered through the rooms, holding Joseph’s hand, I recounted many terrible memories in every one. There was not one good one, which was sad, really. Even visiting my father’s den brought back trauma, and I was happy to leave with only a few minor possessions to remember him by. Happier times perhaps; there weren’t many, which is sad considering we were supposed to have it all.
I also said au revoir to my sisters at the door. Not for the first time either, but this time under the promise that we will visit them soon in the United States. They are also welcome in London any time they want to travel, and now, as we reach that London home, it feels exactly that. Home.
We head inside and are met by Mrs. Harrington. Her anxious smile welcoming.
“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Ravera.”
I toss my eyes.
“Tiffany, please.”
Her anxious gaze slides to my husband, and he shrugs. “My wife is in charge now, Mrs. Harrington. I have no problem with that.”
Her happy smile is full of relief, and that makes me happy. As she heads off to arrange a tray of tea, I breathe a little easier.
Home. I never imagined it would be like this, then again I never imagined I would marry a man like Joseph Ravera.
He takes my hand, and the pain in his eyes catches my breath because once again his memories are torturing him.
I doubt that will ever change if what happened back at the house is anything to go by, and he says with a frown.
“We should freshen up. It’s been a lot.”
“Of course.”
I wonder where this leaves us. What happens now, and as we head upstairs once again, we reach the second staircase and I hesitate.
“So, um, I’ll, well, meet you in the living room then.”
“Yes.”
I reach for the handrail, almost hoping he says something. It’s as if a wall is still between us, despite the history we have shared, and yet as I walk up every stair with a heavy heart, he merely watches me go.
I’m home.
The attic room is still here.
Sparse, almost cold, and yet strangely welcoming. It’s as if I have lived a million lifetimes since I was last here, and I sit upright on the bed; my fingers tangled in my lap.
I’m not sure what I expected when we returned, but it wasn’t this. When we left for Milan, I thought we had reached an understanding. We had sex in his bedroom, but it was way more than that. Feelings were involved.
I thought we had battered down his walls, but since stepping back into this house, it appears he merely opened the door a little. It’s been slammed shut once again, and I wasn’t expecting that.
With a sigh, I head to the small bathroom to shower, wondering if this is now my life. My husband downstairs with me like a prisoner in the turret, waiting for him to want to play with me.