Chapter 23
I give her until fifty – A slow fifty, before I jump to one hundred.
From the terrace, I make my way inside. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust from the brightness outside to the darkness we’re enveloped in the house, and immediately I stop when I see Echo’s sandal that she was wearing not long ago. For a second, I’m confused. I’m uncertain if this is a Cinderella leaving the ballroom rouse, but then I realize she took it off purposefully.
Fuck, she’s creative.
Quickly, I bend and pick up the sandal, my hand curling around it. So, she wants to play a different type of hide and seek. I never played the game as a child, but I know how it goes.
I’m confident that losing clothes isn’t a part of it.
Intrigued, I move into the house more, heading towards the living room. There doesn’t seem to be any immediate proof that she passed through here. The pristine room looks as untouched as it did when we first got in, and since we haven’t even sat in it, I know that she’s not in here because of the undisturbed vacuum streaks in the carpet. Next, I go to the separate dining room that is more like a dining hall than anything.
During the holidays, my mother would have all her closest friends over, crowding around the table, which easily seats twenty or more people. While I resided here with my mother, she always allowed children to eat in the dining room, but my father hated it– Hated children.
Quickly, I scan the immense space and leave. I start for the stairs in the foyer when I see her other sandal on the second step.
Did she go upstairs?
Rather than think about it too long, I walk up the stairs, retrieving the cardigan she wore at the top. I could go to our room, but she wouldn’t because it’s too obvious. She wouldn’t go to the opposite side of the house because even though we haven’t been on that side too often, most staff stay there when they aren’t around the house. And since it’s the weekend, staff come and go as they please. That would leave the art studio and nursery up here, aside from rooms that haven’t even been unlocked due to having no purpose.
Nearing the nursery, I see her shirt hanging on the handle and grab it. Clearly, this game of hide and seek is coming to an end. I enter the room, looking around to see that her shorts are in the middle of it. Stepping up to the shorts, her vanilla scent assaults my senses. I can’t get enough of it, and an urge to find her courses through me.
I stand straight after picking the shorts up and look around the nursery. Most of the items are in boxes. Since I’ve given Echo full rein of whatever changes are to be made at the house, she decided to start with the nursery. That means that a big part of her nights when she’s restless are spent packing things to keep, donate, or trash.
Things used to be mine, but I have no attachment to them.
“Bellissima?
I look around the room and sense she’s not here, but my eyes cut to the open window. My brain registers what my body doesn’t as I step closer to the view that shows the expanse of our land, and I look at the lake to see Echo standing there in just her bra and panties. She’s not doing anything other than standing with her arms crossed over her midsection while her foot toys with the water, making waves cascade through it.
“Merda.”
On a mission, I race back outside to the lake. Uncertain whether I’m going to fuck my wife or insist she get dressed because we still have guards around, I chuckle. As I near her, she turns towards me, a mischievous smile on her face
“I see you found my clues.
“I did.”
That same vanilla scent that has plagued me from the beginning calms me. I look down as she steps into me. “I don’t think traditional hide-and-seek demands you remove your clothes.
With a coy look, she glances down at her lace undergarments, then back up at me. Her eyebrow quirks up, and she bites down on her lip in the cutest way I’ve ever seen. “I figured we could make this fun since it’s just us.
Her hands trail up her arm, her fingers walking along them sensually, and she stops at the straps of her bra. Her eyes look down teasingly, then back up as she pulls the straps down, trapping them in the crook of her arms that are crossed.
“It’s not just us.”
I remind her. “It’s never just us.”
I can’t resist touching her. My hand moves to her chest, etching over the highest bullet hole wound on her. It drives me crazy seeing it. It reminds me that every scar on her body has come from the Rossis and their grudge against her. That no matter how much she heals, she will always have to bear them.
“Really?
My eyes meet hers. “There are still guards.
Echo steps back, her hard stare on me. “Well, then,”
I notice that her bra is gone, “you’d better get in the lake with me before they see.”
She turns and runs into the water without a second thought. I look around, seeing that no one is patrolling, though I’m sure the cameras have caught something. I shake my head and begin to unbutton my shirt.
I’m going to have to erase them later.
****
My phone rings.
The incessant, loud ringing vibrates through the room until I have no choice but to give in and reach out. Blinded by exhaustion and the urge to close my eyes and return to sleep, I sigh when I finally touch my phone. My eyes cut to Echo, who is still asleep against my side, before I bring the phone to my ear.
“Damiano Bianchi.”
My voice is hoarse from sleep, and I clear my throat.
“Damiano?”
The voice is hushed, barely above a whisper. “It’s Marino.”
“Marino?”
My question comes out in a croak that’s too loud for my ears. I look at Echo, who hasn’t stirred at all. Dinner didn’t agree with her earlier. She’d complained that some ingredient made her stomach turn, and she went to sleep shortly after taking a shot of whiskey to help her sleep.
She’d claimed that whiskey settled her stomach.
A crock of shit if I knew one.
“Give me a second.”
I gingerly disentangle myself from Echo, get out of the bed, and walk out of the suite. “What’s going on?”
There’s a brief silence before Marino sighs. “Sorry, I know you’re on your honeymoon, but I called Gio, and he didn’t answer.”
I’m too tired to check my phone and calculate the time difference. Gio is most likely handling things for me right now. “It’s no problem, Marino. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, everything is fine.”
Though I can’t see him, something feels off.
“Are you sure?”
I question him.
“Yes.”
Marino’s demeanor seems to change over the phone. “I recently found something interesting, but I don’t know if I should tell you so prematurely.”
Fucking vague.
Tired, I try not to take my frustration out on Marino. The older man has always been cryptic when giving details about his assignments, but he has always come through.
“What did you find?”
He sighs, then sucks his teeth. A habit of his. “I don’t want to say just yet, I, uh- “ He stops talking for a second. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
I can tell the last part is mostly to himself. “But your wife, Mrs. Bianchi, she only mentioned one baby?”
I think about it. “Yes, she said a son.”
Marino hums in acknowledgment. “Okay, maybe that’s why then.”
What?
“Is there something I need to know about Mrs. Bianchi, Marino?”
“What?”
Marino sounds startled for a brief moment. “No, I was just curious. With this case being old and resulting in her going into WITSEC, a lot of information is redacted and purposely missing. Some of it is more confusing than others. It’s one of the harder ones you’ve given me.”
I rub my eyes. “Do you want to look into what you found more, then call me back?”
Marino grows quiet. “Um, sure.”
He hums nervously. “I, uh, after this job, I’m going to take a small break, okay?”
“Okay.”
I don’t see why he’s telling me. Never in our history of working together has Marino told me that he’s taking a break. He’s available when I need him, and we’ve never had a problem. “Marino, if you need anything, let me know. We’ve worked together for over a decade.”
He sighs. “No, it’s nothing like that. This case is hitting home a lot harder. My daughters are around your wife’s age, and the things that she’s endured…. Nobody should have to go through that.”
We’re both quiet.
I have to acknowledge that for someone who has had nothing but bad luck in life, Echo, while angry, is optimistic that she will get what she wants in the end.
The Rossis served on a platter.
So, I understand where Marino is coming from. I forgot that his daughters are grown. The last time I saw them, he was scared about them having crushes and liking boys. Now, he’s concerned about the reality of the world that we live in- That we’ve immersed him in. For him to request time away, though he doesn’t have to, it means that something is bothering him. It could be this case or something else, but I’m not about to ask him.
Whatever problems Marino is going through, I will respect his privacy.
In front of the suite door, I remember that Echo is asleep and move away from it. “Whatever you need, Marino. Just let me know when you are ready to return to work, and I’m sure I will have something for you.”
Marino chuckles. “You will.”
We both know he’s right.
I don’t trust many people, and Marino is one that I do. Yet, I can’t resist the nagging thought biting at the back of my head. No matter what, in the past, Marino has never reached out to me until he had all the information that I needed. He would text me but has never called.
“Are you sure everything is okay?” I ask.
This will be the last time I ask.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Marino chuckles. “Go ‘head and get back to sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”
We hang up without another word, and I sigh. With my back to the door, I casually turn to reenter the room but stop. I’m not as tired as I was before. I probably wasn’t as sleepy as I initially thought, but I went to sleep because Echo did. The time we’ve spent here, though it’s given us time to become more acquainted, has also made us dependent on the other’s sleep schedule.
At home, I’m awake before she is and getting back from the office most days after she’s gone to bed. So, after we’ve spent the day exploring the town or touring, we go to sleep knowing we won't go to sleep alone.
The only problem is that I’ve grown accustomed to it because I enjoy it. I love how she sidles up to me once we’re both in bed and nestles her head in the space between my pec and shoulder. She places her hand on my chest and taps gently on my chest to match my heartbeat.
Growing up, I never had someone to lean on for emotional support because I didn’t want to be perceived as weak. My aunt was there for me but didn't intervene as much because she was my uncle’s wife and not my mother. She also didn’t like my father, and my uncle, Don Domenico, made it clear that she was to say nothing.
My uncle didn’t want to choose between his wife and brother.
Exhausted from my brain going a million miles a minute, I step away from the door. My feet, with their own mind, carry me to the room down the hall I’ve been avoiding since I got here. When I turn the knob and push open the door, I’m immediately overwhelmed with the smell of old boxes that have been stored for too long and the fading scent that’s familiar to me. My hand reaches out to my right blindly and flicks the light switch to illuminate the nostalgia of seeing my mother’s belongings.
It’s been over twenty years, and I still envision her here.
This room was her closet. My father hated that she had so many clothes but never stopped her from buying them. It was most likely the way he thought he was repaying her for being a shitty husband. He beat her, and she bought clothes. He was unfaithful, and she bought clothes. He told her he hated marrying her and spawning me, and she bought more clothes.
I had thought my father sold or gave away all her things and never asked him when we were back in the States.
He would have thought I wanted her clothes because I wanted to dress like a woman, and he would have killed me. My father was a demented and twisted person. He looked for any and every excuse to beat me. I needed to toughen up, as he would say.
“No Bianchi cries. No Bianchi shows weakness. No Bianchi is weak. You’re not a Bianchi.”
My father’s words still leave an impression on me.
I learned with him that the only emotion I was allowed to convey was anger, hate, and disgust. I needed to look impassive if I was happy or enjoying myself. Any show of enjoyment was forbidden. My uncle taught me that I needed to always think and remain steps ahead of everyone. He said showing my cards, emotions included, would only give them the upper hand. But I had taught myself to survive. I’d learned every scenario I walked into and could develop how to approach the situation. My father and uncle had tried to mold me in their image– Two different images, but I had become something else.
The only situation I am unsure how to navigate is Echo.
I made it clear in the past that I never wanted to get married, but I knew that it was expected since I’m the future Don. I figured I had enough time to find someone I found tolerable, but I never took any initiative to meet a woman. My life before Echo was monotonous and encompassed the same daily routines. I worked all day, saw to my uncle’s care, had meetings for both sides of the business, and then would end my night with a drink in the bar and decide if I wanted to return to the house or stay at the penthouse.
She inserted herself into my life, body, and soul.
Standing in the doorway, I make my way into the room. My fingers run across the dusty boxes, which I’m sure are full of my mother’s discarded items that my father couldn’t be bothered with. I can’t resist the anguish and anger that build within me. The memories that flood me are more than I want to bear now. They’ve been buried so long that being back here is uprooting them.
And not in the best way.
I want to resurrect my father and murder him again.
With a sigh, I move to a box on the oversized custom vanity my mother used to sit at for hours. Written in sloppy handwriting, and I recognize it as my father’s.
Flavia
I roll my eyes.
He couldn’t even bother to label what it was he threw in there.
Nervously, I open the box, careful not to rip it open like the brute that I tend to be sometimes. My eyes fall on the jewelry box inside. Without thinking, I lift it out and put it to the side. I look back at the rest of the stuff in the box. My father threw things from my mother’s nightstand haphazardly inside of it. Not that I expected anything different from him.
He did kill her, after all.
In truth, I wouldn’t put anything past my father when he was alive. He’d killed my mother, Gio’s mother, and sister in a fire that had dilapidated the opposite side of the house before I renovated it with my money at eighteen. I’d requested the contractor to try to keep the unique Italian feel to it. He’d done the best he could considering the age of the house that had been passed down for generations, but the changes weren’t noticeable to the untrained eye.
Casually, I move the notebook my mother spent hours writing in every day and sort through the random things that have made their way to the bottom of the box. Something gleams, and I stop; my eyes wander to the item, and I pick it up. Upon seeing the ring my mother said was a family heirloom, surprise courses through me. She claimed she couldn’t wear it because my father wanted her to wear his wedding ring, but it would be mine to give to my bride one day. I’d thought it was lost in the fire because my mother had worn it here in Italy, but it had been tossed with the rest of her belongings.
I don’t waste another second in the room. I grab the ring, stuff it on my little finger, then head out after turning the light off and closing the door. I’ll have to sort through the remainder of her things before we leave, but I have more important matters to take care of now.
It takes me no time to return to the master suite, and when I enter, I see that Echo is still asleep. She’s in the same position I left her in when I snuck out of the room, and it relieves me to see that she’s sleeping soundly.
Since we’ve been here, she hasn’t had any nightmares. I’m uncertain whether it’s because she’s been with me the entire time or because of being here. Despite my many horrid memories, there’s something peaceful about this place that can’t be ignored.
After death and destruction, only beauty can remain.
I walk across the extra-padded carpet of the room and sit on the bed behind her slumbering body. Trying not to jostle her awake, I lay back and cocoon her body with mine, reaching out and taking her left hand. With ease, I slip off the ring I spent too much on and slide my mother’s ring in its place, marveling at how it fits perfectly.
“Dami?”
Echo’s hoarse voice reaches my ears, but I try not to alarm her more.
Softly, I kiss the shell of her ear and burrow into the bed more, placing my hand on her flat stomach. “Go to sleep, Bellissima.”
She hums in agreement, and her light snoring commences once again.
Closing my eyes, I sigh. Even though I tried to stop myself and reminded myself why I’m hesitant, she’s become a permanent etching on my heart.