Three Summers (Redemption #1)

Being a saint never will save you from the wrath of a sinner

POV: Brooklyn
"Hard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter." - John Keats
Summer #3

I don't know if it's Thursday or Saturday, but I do know two things.

There's not much time left before Dima finally decides to kill me, and Valentino may not make it in time.

At first, I was filled with hope that he'd bust open the door and sweep me away like I was some trapped princess. How foolish I was. My life is no fairytale. I stopped counting the days once a week passed. The only thing I have known since are these four cream walls.

I stare at them for hours even though I have all the entertainment a person can wish for and am plotting my way out of here. Dima visits me every other day to check up on me. Sometimes he even talks, but I get the eerie feeling that he isn't really speaking to me.

It's like Dima looks right through my eyes and into someone else's. I want to ask who, but I would rather scrap my skin on a cheese grinder than have a heart-to-heart with Dima. He's too cold.

No wonder he lives in Russia.

All Dima's presence does is remind me of Valentino's. Where Dima is cold and demanding, Valentino is warm and welcoming. Brothers who are complete opposites but have an unbreakable bond I don't know what happened between them. Just know that Dima called it quits and moved.

Why do you look so down, dear?" Nadia, Dima's maid and the only other woman here, comes into the room with a plate full of fruits.

She places them in front of me and frowns when I inch away from them. I'm not in the mood to eat, talk, or even paint. I want to leave this place and go back home.

Wherever that may be. I thought for a silly second that Italy could be home. Sometimes I try not to think of it, but I wonder if that's what went through my mother's head when she had an affair in the same place where I met Valentino.

Maybe our story was a sick redemption from the only love my mama experienced?

Tears sting my eyes when I think of the surprise I was going to tell Valentino once he came back. After some hard thinking, I finally did it.

I applied to the Leonardo Da Vinci Art Academy and got in. I was planning to stay, and I'd be lying if I said Valentino didn't play a factor. Screw Boston University. Screw my father's expectations.

I was doing what I wanted for once, and knowing Valentino would be proud makes being away hurt even more.

"Oh my," Nadia grabbed my head and rested it on her shoulder as I continued to 'sob'. It was more like a dry heave, but this has become our routine. She'll try to distract me from the 'heartbreak', but I end up 'crying' anyway.

Playing the heartbroken girl is easy. Even more so with a little story spin. It's manipulative, I know, but being a saint never saved me from being hit by a sinner.

"It'll be okay," Nadia says, rubbing my back in the way she always does, but it doesn't ease the unease creeping its way into my conscience. I 'cried' even harder while slipping my hands into her back pockets to get the phone she keeps on her and replace it with the small book Dima gave me. Today will be the day I execute phase one of my escape.

And I'll be damned if anything gets in my way.

POV: Valentino

I'm losing my mind.

Unfortunately, you can't just rush your way through recovery. The doctor said it would be about three weeks before I could fully recover, but I said if they didn't discharge me after two, I'd burn the whole building down with him inside it.

He let me leave without a problem.

Since then, I've been working nonstop to find Brooklyn. Gathering up enough manpower to make North Korea shake and working with Ava to locate Brooklyn's whereabouts. Dima disappeared off the face of the earth and left no trace.

The bastard had have prepared for this his whole life. I wanted to say I was surprised, but if anyone did it. It would be Dima.

That's what made finding him a bit easier. A little blast from the past could tell anyone what they needed to know. In Ava's discovery, she found out Dima was never born in Italy like he claimed.

Dima was from Russia and came to Italy with his father. What happened after is still a mystery, but I could care less. I just need to find Brooklyn, and finding his hometown made this process a little easier.

The far side of my room is covered with a large map that has a large red circle on it. She had to be somewhere in there, and if I had to tear Russia down piece by piece to find her, I would.

I won't lose her again.

My desk is scattered with papers and coffee-ring stains. I know I should be sleeping, but I physically can't. Any moment we can find a crack, so I sit at my desk looking for one at 3 a.m. I'm in the middle of closing a deal with a wannabe Pablo Escobar when I feel my phone ring. I ignore it like I always do, but it rings.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Reaching my limit, I pick up my phone and growl, "This better be good," but my persona drops when I hear the voice at the other end, "Is this how you greet everyone who calls you?"

My heart drops for a moment before it starts to beat frantically in my chest. "Brooklyn? Jesus, tell me where you're right now." I wait for my response, but nothing comes. Thoughts of her getting caught cause me to panic. "Brooklyn? Brooklyn!" The only thing I get are coordinates from an unknown number before I hear her again.

"Sorry, I had to remove the phone from my ear to text you. Hurry Valentino. I haven't seen Dima in days, and I'm starting to worry."

Hearing the fear in her voice is all it takes for me to grab my jacket and the bag I've already packed. I'm almost out of the door before I stop and rasp, "Brooklyn?"

Her voice is hushed, but all I need "Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

Hours later, after I boarded the plane and stepped foot in Russia, her response still rang in my ears while the coldness bit away at my skin and burned with each breath I took.

"With my life, Valentino."