Page 104 of Forgive Me, Father
I laughed, the image almost too perfect.“Oh, absolutely.He’s the accomplice.No question.”
Luigi’s smile softened.“Want to meet her?”
“Your grandmother?”I asked, eyebrows raised.
He nodded, and I inhaled deeply, straightened my spine, and lifted my chin just a touch higher.
“I’d love to,” I said with all the poise I could muster.
Outwardly, I looked composed, confident even, but inside, I felt like a seven-year-old girl about to meet the matriarch of a royal family.Alfonso’s grandmother wasn’t just a sweet old woman, she’d been married to the man who once ruled the Dons.Henrico Pontisello.The same man who gifted Alfonso that fortress of a home.Whatever bond Alfonso had shared with him, I knew it ran deep.
The lawn was crowded, and their grandmother held court beneath the canopy of the main marquee, surrounded by relatives and their eager small talk.She had a regal air about her, wise, sharp-eyed, with a grace that demanded respect, but she wasn’t shy about shooing away the younger ones when they annoyed her with too much chatter.
Luigi whispered something in rapid Italian that made several heads snap toward him with disapproving frowns.His grandmother, however, burst into delighted laughter as half her entourage scattered like pigeons.
With a grin, Luigi dropped into a squat beside her chair, and she greeted him with affection, pinching his cheeks and planting a kiss on each.The bond between them was clear, and watching them, I was convinced he was her annual escape plan, not Roberto.
Luigi motioned toward me and said my name.I took that as my cue and walked over quickly, nerves fluttering in my stomach.Her eyes narrowed with curiosity.
She murmured Alfonso’s name, and Luigi chuckled before opening his mouth to translate.
She held up a hand, cutting him off.“I can speak for myself,” she said with a sharp little glare.“Don’t need no man to do it for me.”
Then her eyes slid back to me, bright and appraising.“You aremuchbetter than that whore, Simi.”
I nearly choked on my own breath, coughing into my hand as Luigi burst out laughing beside me.
“Mamma,” Mavis scolded under her breath, clearly horrified.
Grandmother waved her off with a sharp curse in Italian, absolutely unbothered.In that moment, I understood why so many people adored her, and why Alfonso’s grandfather had named an entire hotel in her honor.She radiated the kind of effortless authority that came with age, legacy, and zero patience for bullshit.She was pure joy wrapped in steel.
“I hope my Alfonso is taking better care of you,” she said, her voice warm but edged with meaning.
“Better care?”I echoed, a little thrown by the phrase.
“Of course I am, Nonna,” Alfonso’s voice broke in from behind me, rough and familiar.I hadn’t even heard him approach.He kissed the top of my head, then leaned down and pressed a respectful kiss to his grandmother’s cheek.
She let loose a string of rapid-fire Italian that made his brow furrow as he shook his head, clearly amused but also slightly exasperated.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Camilla,” she said with a smile that felt like a benediction.“You take care ofher,” she added, nodding pointedly toward me.
Alfonso replied in Italian, his voice low and rhythmic, and I didn’t need to understand the words to catch the meaning in the way his hand gently curled around my waist.
She gave him a firm tap on the cheek, hard enough to sting, judging by his blink, and then turned to me and winked.
I was completely smitten.His grandmother was everything.
As we said our goodbyes, I became more aware of the eyes following us, lingering on me.It wasn’t just curiosity, it was something heavier.Measured.Like I’d disrupted some invisible hierarchy.
“Okay…” I whispered as we walked away.“Why is everyone staring?”
Alfonso gave a low chuckle.“Because that’s the first time my Nonna has ever spoken English toanyone.”
* * *
The Lamborghini tore through the winding hills like it belonged to the road, like Alfonso was born with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped around destiny.The roar of the engine echoed between the ancient stone walls as vineyards blurred past us in streaks of green and gold.I sank into the buttery leather seat, just enjoying the luxury of this masterpiece of a vehicle.
We were heading home, but the weight of the afternoon lingered between us, his family, his Nonna, the ghosts of a legacy that refused to stay buried.
