9. 9 – Stefano
9 – Stefano
I glance around the room again, noting the glittering blue of the Med in the distance from the shuttered window.
“Look, mamma.” I keep my voice quiet. “You always loved the sea.”
My mother doesn’t respond. She stays where she is, curled up in the bed, and I wait for a few minutes before taking a light blue sheet from the end of the bed and draping it over her. “Some rest, then. It was a long trip. I’ll bring some lunch up.”
Iliana Asante only blinks, before her eyes close.
I walk out, my eyes scanning the corridor. Wondering which door belongs to Cat.
She has the others now.
She may not welcome me – not in the same way she did when we were forced together by circumstances. Perhaps Domenico Rossi was right, to throw that accusation at me.
I will not hold her to it.
But I will stay, nonetheless. Until she tells me otherwise.
Movement down the hall, and I pause as someone slips out of a door, quietly pulling it closed.
Giovanni Fusco locks eyes with me as he turns, blue eyes flaring with surprise before he rocks back on his heels. He crosses his arms as I walk toward him. “Asan- Stefano.”
“Gio.” I turn my gaze to the door. “How is she?”
He frowns. “How did you know she was in there?”
My lips curve up. “Nobody is that careful about leaving an empty room. Unless you and V’Arezzo have a deeper relationship than I realized, I’m assuming it’s Caterina.”
He blinks. And then a low sound of amusement escapes him. “She’s pretending to sleep, if you want to go in.”
I frown at that, even as Gio steps away from the door to give me space, and I eye him in silent question as he slides his hands into the pockets of his chinos.
He lowers his voice further. “I know what it is to be the outsider. Caterina has always made her own choices, and I am grateful for it. I would be a hypocrite to argue with her now, no?”
My brows knit as the words filter through. I don’t know the details of how Giovanni Fusco became part of… whatever this is, but I know enough. “ Il bacio della morte – was it real?”
His face darkens. “Yes. Caterina is no fool, nor is she weak. She risked everything to keep my youngest sister safe despite my own actions, and I still live with those regrets. I likely always will.”
My thoughts shift. Move to a room full of people, a bucket. The scent of her skin burning beneath my own hands. “How do you live with it?”
He studies me. “By trying to be a better man. She makes me want to be a better man.” A half-smile. “If only to keep up with her.”
I understand that, possibly more than he even realises.
“Go on,” he tilts his head toward the door. “Lunch will be ready soon. Morelli has a thing about family meals, you’ll find.”
Family meals.
“Thanks.” It comes out gruffly, and Gio studies my face before he nods.
The door opens silently beneath my hand, and I slip into the room. The thin cotton curtains are pulled back, giving me another angle of the ocean outside as I cross to the bed. “Cat?”
I keep my voice low, just in case. But her brown eyes immediately blink open.
“You haven’t slept,” I say softly. She didn’t sleep on the flight either, keeping her eyes closed but her body tense. “Why not?”
Her sigh is heavy, even as she shifts over in silent invitation. I climb onto the bed as she pulls herself up to sit beside me, her head leaning on my shoulder. I wait.
“Real?”
The quiet question threatens to shatter whatever pieces of my heart still remain. “ Real .”
We sit in silence for a few moments.
“When I was under…,” she whispers eventually. “I always dreamed, you know? Vivid, real dreams. Of all of them. Of you. Of a different life. It felt so real, Stefan, and then I would wake up. I - I know this is real. But if I go to sleep – what if it’s not? What if I wake up and I’m still there ?”
My breath catches. “You’re not there anymore, Cat. It’s over. He’s dead.”
She picks at a stray thread on the bedding. “Maybe. But he’s still inside my head. Not so easy to kill there, as it turns out.”
“Give it time,” I say as gently as I can, even as the rage burns my throat. And the guilt. “It’s been hours, Cat. Nobody expects you to walk away and forget it ever happened.”
“I don’t have time.” Her voice raises a little, frustration leaking in. “Not when – there is so much to do, Stefan.”
“Not right now.” My voice firms. “We have a little time. Eat some food. Try to rest. Give yourself a break, Cat, and everything else will follow.”
She makes an incredulous sound. “I couldn’t even take my daggers when Gio offered them to me.”
I nudge her. “You seem to have discovered a penchant for steak knives, however.”
Her eyes glitter as she mock shoves me. “I need sharper ones. Not ones that bounce off people’s heads.”
But her face softens. “Real.”
Instead of answering, I lift up her hand. Press it against my chest, so she can hear the thumping of my heart inside my chest. “You hear that?”
She nods, and I cup her cheek. “My heart only beats like that for you. Ti amo , Caterina.”
And the weight in my chest lifts, when she whispers it back. “ Ti amo , Stefan.”
After a few minutes, I climb off the bed, and she glances up at me. “Where are you going?”
My eyebrow lifts. “I heard something about a family lunch? I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
She grins at me then, even if it’s not as vibrant as it could be. “It’s an experience.”
“Well, then.” I help her up, and she moves to the wardrobe in the corner. “I want all of the experiences with you, Caterina Corvo. We may as well start with lunch.”