I'm already crying before he's even done, and I'm just crying so, so hard that I don't realize Elliot's already come close until he's cupping my chin and lifting my gaze to his.
“I'm sorry,” I sob. “I don't mean to make this all about me.”
“If it's any consolation, I'm sorry, too.”
“For what?”
“I know about Nicolo Sestini, Juniper.”
W-what?
“Or should I call you Signora Sestini?”
Chapter Eleven
MORNING COMES WHETHERI like it or not.
I'm at the window of the bedroom, in the same suit I changed into an hour ago, watching the sun come up over the lake and feeling a sinking sensation in my stomach that won't go away no matter how many times I tell it to.
It's time.
I force myself through the motions of a civilized man, which I wasn't for half of my life. I take a shower. Shave. Change into a fresh suit, charcoal this time, the one Juniper would call serious. I even put on a watch because it's supposed to be an indicator of one's power and wealth.
Supposedly.
For me though, I only use it to time myself when I'm training. Other than that I'm good.
Rollo already has the limo on standby when I get to the basement. He's at the rear door, holding it open, his face giving nothing away.
“Where to,signore?”
“Juniper.”
“Of course, sir.”
I get in. Rollo closes the door, walks around, and slides into the front passenger seat beside the driver. The partition stays down. Nobody speaks.
I try to think of what to say as the driver negotiates traffic. I know she invited Elliot up. I know he stayed a long time. And although I have hidden cameras installed in her place, I barely managed to resist the urge to spy on her last night.
It's the least I can do, after everything.
But I'm still stuck on what to say. I don't even know if I can really let her go. But I'll try. I owe it to her. I owe everything to Juniper because memories of her alone are what kept me alive in almost the past two decades.
She's why I'm alive.
But I'm also why she's stopped living.
And maybe that's why I can't think of anything to say. Because there's nothing I can say to someone who didn't deserve to be hurt.
We pull up at the curb in front of her building. The driver kills the engine. Rollo half-turns in his seat, waiting for me.
I make up my mind.
“Rollo.”
“Yes,signore?”
I take the envelope out of the inside pocket of my jacket and hand it to him over the partition. “Hand it over please.”