He leaned forward, patting the desk, each tap a deliberate tune. “What are you doing?” I asked, my patience thinning.
“Speaking of perceptive,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he continued the beat. “Do you hear that? When you speak, your words sound like a brooding soundtrack, but all I hear is DeanMartin’s,That’s Amore. Honestly,fratello, if you were a text message, you’d be a heart-eyes emoji.”
I flung a scrunched paper ball at his head. “Get out of here. Don’t you have work to do?”
Arms raised, he stood from his chair and backed to the door. “Actually, yes, I have to finalize the presentation for the board meeting.”
“Try not to cram it with emojis. Those men are too old for such nonsense.”
“Will do.” His grin widened. “And when you realize I’m spot on about you and Gemma, just shoot me a text. It’s easy to find; it’s the one hundred percent symbol in red.”
“You’re reading into this wrong, the same way I read half of your phone messages,” I retorted, turning pointedly back to my screen.
A dry chuckle burst from his mouth. “Oh yeah, sure, tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night.”
???
I parked in the driveway, staring up at the two men guarding the front door. Lucio unclicked his seatbelt, the sound echoing in the small space.
“Be ready for Carina’s tantrums. She’s livid you left for Lombardy.”
He rolled his eyes. “She’ll get over it.”
We strode through the foyer and almost collided with Gemma. She’d made an effort today—a black floral summer dress rather than her casual denims and shirt, her espresso hair cascading down her back. But the shadows still lingered in her amber eyes, a reminder of the other night. She clutched her hands in front of her.
“Gemma, are you all right?” I plonked my suitcase on the floor and straightened.
She attempted a small smile and tugged my wrist. “Come, I have a surprise for you.” She beckoned around my shoulder at my brother. “You too, Lucio, join us.”
She led me through the dining hall. Since Franco’s attack, she made a point of waiting by the door every evening when I returned from work; asking about my day, sharing the details of her own, even inviting me to a game of cards before dinner. Was it boredom, cooped up in the mansion all day? Fear of being alone, still clinging to the trauma of that night? Or had my violent rescue somehow forged a bond?A bond… the very thing I’d intended to create from the start, my one goal as part of our revenge plan. But the closer she got, the more real she felt, her presence a warmth I craved at the end of each day.
And what about the plan? I almost forgot about it entirely until now. If her intentional presence around me counted as a sign, then that meant we were closer to the end. The sooner she fell, the sooner I’d achieve my goal and fulfil my vow. The thought punched me in the gut, a cold fist squeezing the air from my lungs. The taste of victory turned bitter on my tongue. Was revenge worth this? Worth losing her?
A yellow glow emanated inside the darkened room. My steps faltered. Candles lit the chocolate cake on the table. Homemade, no doubt.Gemma baked this?The staff wouldn’t dare. Not without my explicit permission.
She clutched my hand. “Happy birthday, Enzo.”
Happy birthday.The dreaded words struck me like a physical blow. A cold sweat slicked my spine. My tie, comfortable moments before, now constricted my airflow like a noose. I ripped my hand from hers, fumbling at the knot, desperate for air. I could hear them…their taunts, their laughter. The flickering candles amplified the room’s stuffiness. Every breath I drew was short, uneven.
Gemma’s smile faltered. “Enzo?” Her voice trembled.
“Who told you?” The accusation emerged harsher than intended.
Her expression paled at the sharp edge of my voice. “The maid left our marriage certificate on my dresser last night. I noticed your birth date.”
Lucio, lingering back, muttered a curse under his breath.
A shout lodged in my throat. I stabbed a finger toward the cake, my voice raw. “Get rid of it. Now.” Every cell in my body screamed for escape. The impulse to rage consumed me, so I stormed for the library before I did something I’d regret.
My hand trembled as I grasped the cool, heavy glass of the decanter, the crystal clinking as I poured the golden liquid. Downing the drink in one go, I refilled another. Gemma’s words echoed in my head.Happy birthday, Enzo.The sweet sound repeated, morphing into younger, whinnier echoes of voices chanting the same. A cackle of female laughter exploded through my head, the manic sound of that one particular nun ushering the memory of flickering candles too close to my face, the heat burning my chin….
I rubbed at my temples, dispelling the throbbing ache.Don’t blame Gemma. Not her fault. Instead, I read into the intention of her small, kind act. Isn’t this what we wanted… for Gemma to care about me? For her to fall in love with me? Then why did her kindness tear me up inside? I sank to the carpet and banged my head into the back of the armchair.
Revenge. It had always been the driving force; the shadow stretching across my entire life. It had been my ticket to freedom, freedom from that horrible place that still haunted my nightmares. Taking another swig, the burning liquid did little to soothe the cold dread gripping my heart. How could I hurt Gemma when I cared, too? She was meant to be meaningless. A step to reach my goal. But she was much more than a means to an end. She was too good for me, and I’d never be good enoughfor her. I’d never be enough… just like I wasn’t enough for my mother.
As the liquor burned a path down my throat, a different fire ignited in my mind, a sharp and brutal memory. No matter how much I shewed away the images, or how many deep breaths I exhaled, the birthday I buried deep within the recesses of my mind surfaced….
“Are we almost there?” Lucio cheered in the backseat.
