Chapter 32
GIANNA
I drifted off to sleep after he came to me, the sweet, slow way he made love to me seamlessly becoming a part of my dreams. Maybe it was all just a dream.
And in a dream, I’m allowed to feel all the pleasure he has to give me.
In a dream, I can still be in love with him.
Because it’s just a dream and not real and never will be. I’m not betraying anyone when I dream.
That dream fades as soon as I hear him calling my name, while shaking my shoulder gently. No sweet kisses to wake me with this time. Maybe those were just a dream too.
“Get ready, we have to go,” he says as I open my eyes.
He’s wearing a black suit over a black shirt, similar to the kind of outfits he used to wear when he was still my bodyguard. I guess he was the one in mourning then. At least we’ll match now.
“Where are we going?” I ask, making sure the duvet covers my nakedness as I sit up. I can still feel his soft kisses and caresses from last night, still feel the faint echoes of the orgasms he gave me, which become stronger when I focus on them. So, no, that couldn’t have been a dream.
But there’s no light about him now, no sun shining through his darkness.
“You won’t like it, but it must be done,” he says. “I’ll come and get you in half an hour. Be ready.”
Then he strides out of the room, slamming the door and locking it.
I’m shivering as I walk to the bathroom. Not because the room is cold, it’s not, but because the sweetness of the dream he woke me from and the cold way he ordered me to get ready are creating a draft all around me, a vortex, a black hole.
I make the water as hot as I can stand it, but it doesn’t chase away the cold.
You won’t like it, but it must be done.
Those words of his echo in my mind, bringing more icy wind.
I dress in the black clothes I’ve been wearing since I got here. They’re not clean anymore, but I don’t care. I’m not wearing anything but black until I’m free of him.
He says nothing as he arrives to collect me, just holds the door open so I can leave the room.
I remember the hours I’d spent plotting my escape from the room.
It was just a few days ago, but it feels like years now that I know I’m no good out there.
That I have no one to turn to. Just my mom’s voice on the voicemail of her phone and creeps wanting to hurt me.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask as we descend to the lobby. His heavy footsteps are making the wooden stairs shake and groan, mine are quieter than a whisper.
“We need you to do something,” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. “You and your sister.”
We’ve reached the first floor, and I can see the top of Chiara’s head.
She’s standing in the lobby, wearing yet another gown that looks much too big on her with all the layers of material it’s made of.
It’s emerald green like her eyes, adorned with pretty pink flowers that look like they were hand drawn onto the fabric.
She hates dresses like these. I remember how she’d always rant and rave whenever Mom would make her wear something feminine like this to church, or some important party.
I bet she ranted and raved at her new husband too before he forced her to put it on.
I don’t like the fact that he can force her to do anything.
But if I think too hard about that, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.
“How are you, Chiara?” I ask as I clear the last step and rush to her, ignoring all the grim-faced men crowded in the lobby, especially her tall, dark husband.
“I’m dressed up like a woman from the fifties,” she scoffs. “How do you think I feel?”
Then she laughs and I laugh, and it feels so good. Just like old times. Better even, because this laugh is sweeter, coming so spontaneously after days of darkness that feel like years.
“Enough of that,” her husband says. “You can chat in the car.”
He takes her arm and drags her towards the front door, and I trail behind them, taking her other arm as soon as we clear the front door.
They put us in the back seat of a town car. A short, stocky man takes the wheel, and Ferro gets in the passenger side. The edge of a tire iron, large, black and sharp is sticking up between his long legs.
I feel Matteo’s burning gaze on me the whole way, even when I’m ensconced in the soft leather seats, with the doors and tinted windows firmly shutting him and the rest of the world out. Now his warmth finally returns. I needed some of that this morning.
But I don’t need it anymore, because now I have my sister and that’s the kind of pleasure he can never give me.
The man behind the wheel starts the engine and then we’re riding. Down the long driveway bordered by greenery, the ocean shimmering here and there through gaps in the leaves and trees the garden is overgrown with.
I’m holding Chiara’s hand and she’s squeezing mine right back, which is the only sign that she’s as nervous as I am about this trip. Because otherwise, her face is relaxed, a slight grin on her lips which turns into a sneer each time Ferro glances at her in the rearview mirror.
“Where are you taking us, anyway?” she asks loudly as we turn onto the highway.
“I need you to do something,” Ferro says. “As my wife.”
“You say that like I have some sort of choice in the matter,” she says. “So what is it that you are making me do?”
He grins. “You’ll just have a little chat with someone. And then it’ll be all over and I’ll let you spend as much time with your sisters as you want. How about that?”
“How about you being a master gaslighter?” she says. “I don’t believe a word you say.”
My heart is thumping hard in my chest and my throat is so tightly shut I can hardly get a word in. I start squeezing Chiara’s hand in quick succession to get her attention.
She’s locking eyes with Ferro through the rearview mirror like they’re a couple of children playing that game where the first one to look away is the loser.
He looks away first, a split second before she turns to me, pulling her hand from my grasp and shaking it.
“That hurt, Gia,” she says. “What is it?”
“He said sisters,” I hiss at her, because I can’t actually speak any louder.
The starting confusion in her eyes quickly turns to the same realization I made—we’re about to meet up with Lidia, our other sister. She smiles widely and I shudder.
Because meeting Lidia can’t possibly be a good thing. No matter how much joy is flooding my chest at the thought of seeing her again. And I watch Chiara’s face fall, color draining from it as she realizes the same thing.
She casts a dark look at her husband, but he’s looking straight ahead now pretending we’re not here at all.
I wonder if we’d survive if I open the door now and pull her out behind me as I jump out. Together we’d survive out there. But not the fall, I’m sure of that. We’re going too fast. Speeding towards something I won’t like but needs to be done. Like Matteo warned me.
And I have a sickening feeling I know exactly what that is. We’re riding to finish the job Ferro started the night he attacked my family at the beach house. And this time, he wants us to help him succeed.
“We won’t help,” I say. Ferro doesn’t hear me. But Chiara does. And she squeezes my hand again as she nods.
“No, we won’t.”
Ferro glances at us through the rearview mirror, his eyes darker than a moonless, cloudy night in the dead of winter. “But you will. Because you were completely right before, my darling wife. You don’t have a choice.”
* * *
The ride isn’t a long one. Chiara and Ferro spent the rest of it glancing at each other but not speaking.
There is so much I want to say to my sister, but I don’t want to do it in front of the monster who forced her to marry him.
And I don’t want to show him any fear either, but I’m sure a lot of it is showing on my face. Much more than is on Chiara’s.
She’s still holding my hand, while glaring at her husband who is again pretending we’re not here at all.
We pass into New Jersey and get off the highway. The cars behind us, all nearly identical, follow. We’re like a long snake of town cars, much like would always be the case whenever we went anywhere as a family. One car for us, another for our bodyguards. That thought is softly comforting.
But then Matteo’s voice comes on in my head again. You won’t like it, but it must be done.
He’s in one of those cars behind us. But he might as well be in this one, that’s how strongly I feel his presence with me, and his sunshine gaze on me. It’s competing even with the glaring sunshine outside.
We pull into a meadow of sorts, then go up and down a hill, driving down a dirt road that makes the whole car bounce like a plane that’s hit turbulence.
And then we suddenly stop, the other cars pulling up on either side, forming a neat line.
Ferro turns in his seat to face us. “We’re here.”
In the distance I can see the flat, grey roof of a house but otherwise there’s nothing here.
My heart’s thumping in my throat and it’s nearly impossible to keep the fear off my face.
But he wouldn’t bring us all the way out here just to kill us, would he?
He can easily do that at his mansion. In the garden there, if he wants to do it outside.
“What’s here?” Chiara asks sarcastically.
“You’ll see.” He gets out of the car, gripping that sharp, large tire iron of his. Now I remember him holding it the night I first saw him. It was dripping with blood then. The blood of our bodyguards, men who have kept my family safe all my life. I haven’t even had time to mourn them yet.
Two men come to the car, one on each side, open the doors and pull me and Chiara out. Matteo’s off to the side, a dark scowl on his face and eyes brighter than the sun. His face grows even darker as my hands are tied together with zip-ties so hard I wince as the plastic digs into my wrists.
“Is this really necessary?” Chaira asks and Ferro grins at her. Her hands are tied too.
“Yes,” he says. “I have to make sure you won’t try to run away.
One of the men grabs my arm, another grabs Chiara’s and then we’re forced to follow Ferro across the meadow towards the grey building. Why isn’t Matteo the one leading me? Why is Ferro letting his wife be dragged across the grass by one of his hired muscle?
I guess because he’d have to drop that tire iron of his to do it.
I hate the man more each time I so much as glance at him, and on top of how much I already hated him before…
it’s becoming almost unbearable. Good thing for him that he tied up my hands because right now, I want to jump on his back and scratch his eyes out.
The way Chiara is glaring at his back, I’m pretty sure she wants to do the same thing.
We walk almost right up to a tall grey wall, which is the reason only the roof of the house was visible. Several men armed with rifles appear on the wall almost immediately, giving this scene a weird medieval vibe. Like we’ve walked up a castle and are about to launch into battle.
“I have Codelli’s daughters here with me,” Ferro bellows. “I’m sure he wants to see them.”
Dad? Dad’s here? And Mom?
I can’t believe how quickly the hate that was burning and bubbling in my chest gives way to a soft happiness knowing I’m about to be reunited with my family.
The men atop the wall exchange looks and nervous sounding words. Some are arguing, others are shrugging and then my dad’s face appears atop the wall.
He’s always been a tough, hard man. But right now, his face looks exactly like it did on the day he successfully taught me how to swim… in the sea by the beach house. I was five and so proud of myself.
“Gianna! Chiara!” he yells. “Are you hurt?”
Mom appears beside him, her face such a mixture of happiness and hurt it’s hard to look at.
“My babies,” she yells. “Are you all right?”
“Sort of,” Chiara says just as I say, “Yes, we are.”
We’re not entirely, but I want my mom not to worry anymore. I want her to have peace.
“What happens to them is entirely up to you, Codelli,” Ferro bellows. “Surrender to me, give up the fight and fall in line. I’ve already won. Stop dragging it out. Otherwise, I will kill your daughters right here in front of you. It’ll be a slow and painful death.”
“No!” My mom’s scream echoes like a clap of thunder across the meadow, but the surge of heat that heats my back is all Matteo. And it’s hotter than lightning ever could me.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to decide,” Ferro says. “But not long.”
He hoists his stupid tire iron in the air to make sure everyone sees it.
Matteo is standing beside me now and I’m sure he means to step between the tire iron and me if it comes to it. But Ferro doesn’t notice that. He’s too excited by the scene he’s causing, probably loving the look of utter shock on my dad’s face and the anguish on Mom’s.
She has a right to be worried. In our world, family comes first. But the entire existence and standing of ours is on the line here, not just the lives of my sister and me.
“I’ll do what you want if you release them,” Dad says. He doesn’t sound tough now. He sounds almost broken.
“Come down and let’s shake on it,” Ferro says and Dad turns on his heel.
“No, Dad,” Chiara yells. “Don’t believe him. Don’t come down. He can’t be trusted. He’ll kill you.”
But it’s too late. Both Mom and Dad have already disappeared from the top of the wall.
Ferro turns to his men. “Get ready to go. Just like we talked about.”
A tension ripples over the men gathered around us. Killers getting ready to kill. Nothing good will happen here. And there’s no way to stop it.
I look at Matteo, begging him with my eyes to stop this. But he’s not looking at me. He’s like a mound of darkness standing beside me, staring at the wall, waiting for the gate to open.
“You promised me,” I say to him. “You promised they’d be safe.”
“I’m sorry,” he says in the same tone that he used this morning when he said this same thing, before the sun blinding me now was even a whisper on the horizon.
So that’s why he made love to me so sweetly.
So dreamily. Because he knew this was coming.
That I was about to witness this terrible thing that I feel in my bones is coming.
I hate him even worse than I hate Ferro.
Because he’s the one who took my heart and trampled all over it. He’s about to do it all over again. And he’ll never stop.