Chapter Ten
Vida
A s our car approaches the Villa, my gaze is drawn to the rows of trees that line the street. It’s such a beautiful sight, the tall trees are trimmed so neatly that it reminds me of the movie The Sound Of Music. This isn’t like the movie though. I’m not the rich mistress coming home with the man I love to meet his kids. There’s just something about the serenity the trees give that makes me feel less shitty about this new life I’m heading into.
When Carmela had told me that I would love it here, she wasn’t kidding. I’ve yet to see what the inside of the house looks like, but the exterior has my mouth hanging open in awe of its beauty. The house is grand and the sun hits the stones just right, giving them a golden glow. From where I stand as I get out of the car and take it all in, I can see the mountains standing tall in the distance, leaving the large body of water that sparkles in the sun separating them from the house.
Something about the view in front of me makes me feel better about this move. I don’t like the feeling, having had this idea in my head that I’d hate this no matter what, but it makes me feel better nonetheless. It’s beautiful, and looking around at the amazing view offers me a moment of respite from the turmoil that has taken root inside my head.
“Shall we?” Carmela asks with a warm smile as she comes to stand next to me.
In all honesty, I’m not ready, nor do I ever think I’ll be ready for this. Life isn’t going to wait for me to be ready though, so I do what I have to and nod, then I follow Carmela into the house.
“Wow!” I hear Isabella exclaim next to me as we enter the house.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Carmela laughs.
“Fuck yes,” Isabella says, getting immediately glared at by our mother.
“Language,” Mom scolds, making Isabella and I giggle at each other.
“I’m sure she’s cursing in her thoughts,” Isabella whispers so only Carmela and I can hear.
“Brother!” Matteo emerges with his arms open for a hug, which Luca receives.
“How was the trip? I’m sorry I sent Father’s jet,” he says to Luca.
“I understand, you wouldn’t give Vida anything less,” he replies, turning to face us.
“It’s so nice to see you again,” Matteo says, his smile genuine.
“Same, Matteo, you look great.” He pulls me in for a hug and I let myself enjoy it for the three seconds I’m in his arms.
“You flatter me, mi cara ,” he laughs.
“Please, join me outside” he says, gesturing down the hallway behind him that looks to lead to the back of the house.
“You guys go, Vida and I will join you later,” Carmela says, grabbing my arm.
“Izzy, you coming?” I ask, watching as she looks between me and our parents.
“Nah! You two go along, I’ll hang with these folks,” she replies with a smile.
“See you soon!” Carmela says before dragging me towards the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep up with her.
“Aren’t you Americans the inventors of giving house tours?”
“Well, it started way back in Greece and Rome,” I point out, causing her to stop and look at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“How and why do you know that?” she asks with a chuckle.
“I know weird shit,” I shrug. I’ve always liked learning random things.
“Good to know. So, this is Mom!” Carmela says as we stop in front of a picture that hangs on the wall part way up the stairs.
“Oh my! She’s so . . .”
“Beautiful?”
“Majestic, graceful, and of course, beautiful,” I say, making Carmela laugh.
“Majestic, Father would like that one.”
“Where is she?” I ask, my eyes not leaving the picture in front of me. They didn’t bring her with them when they had dinner at the house and I was so riled up from my interactions with Ciro, that I forgot to ask.
“As they tell the kids, ‘she’s in heaven’,” Carmela whispers sadly.
“Oh, I didn’t know, I’m sorry. What happened?”
“Cancer is a bitch, Vida, remember that.” Carmela doesn’t take her eyes off of her mother’s picture and I can tell that the memories of what happened are hard for her to relive, so I don’t push for more.
I have my mother alive and well, so I don’t know what it’s like to lose her. The only person in my family that I’ve lost is my grandmother, but she was ninety-four years old, so she’d lived a long life. While I may not know what it’s like to lose my mom, I still feel like I can understand the pain Carmela felt as she said those words. I’ve lost someone dear to me too, giving me an ability to relate to her that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
“You look like her, except for the black hair part,” I giggle, hoping to lighten the mood again. Her smile returns and she nods.
“I got that from my father. The jet-black is a Ballera signature,” Carmela laughs. “Except Ciro, he’s got a few strands of our mother’s blonde hair mixed in with his black.”
“I didn’t notice . . .” I comment, wondering how I could have missed seeing blond in his black hair.
“He dyes them. Silly Ciro.”
“Is he home?” I ask, realizing this is the first time I’ve thought about him being here since we stepped into the house.
“No, he had to take care of something,” Carmela says, her words making me feel much better. I’d been trying to mentally prepare myself for seeing him again, but I’m glad I don’t have to just yet. This will give me time to enjoy my first moments here without stressing about him. I’ll take it.
“You have her eyes, they’re identical,” I comment as I turn to look at their mother again.
“Yeah, Ciro . . .”
“Looks older in that photo,” I cut in as I turn and take in the photo on our left.
“That’s not him,” Carmela laughs, “That’s our grandfather.”
“Wow, he looks like an older version of your brother. Luca and Matteo look nothing like him, well, except the black hair of course.”
“Father and uncle took our grandmother’s looks,” she shrugs.
“Ciro sure does look a lot like him,” I comment, the resemblance striking even harder the longer I stare at the picture.
“Yeah, he was Ciro’s curse,” Carmela whispers, barely loud enough to be heard.
“Let’s head upstairs. I’ll show you your new room,” she adds, giving me no room to ask about what she had just said.
I take one last look at the picture before following Carmela up the stairs. I’m dying to ask her what she meant by that, sensing there is a story behind it but that it might not be hers to tell me. With it being ‘Ciro’s curse’ he’d be the one I’d have to ask, and I knew damn well that me asking him about it was never going to happen.
“So, here you are!” Carmela announces as she opens the door, stepping inside so I can see the room I’ll be making mine.
“Oh wow,” I breathe as I walk around.
There is nothing super fancy about it, but I can tell everything is expensive. The room is made up of just three colors; black, white, and grey. It screams Ciro, which just makes me hate it. As I turn to look at the king-sized bed that stands in the middle of the room, I spot the large mirror above it. Why would anyone want a mirror stuck on their ceiling?
“He knows he can’t watch himself sleep, right?” I ask, my gaze stuck on the mirror above me.
“It’s not for sleeping,” Carmela giggles
“Then what is . . .”
“Nothing. How do you like it?” she cuts in, clearly not about to tell me what the mirror above his bed is for.
“It’s nice,” I reply, turning and taking in everything again, spotting another set of doors on the far wall that looks bigger than just what you’d see for a closet. “Where does that door lead?”
“Another room, it’s been renovated. Not important,” Carmela says, pulling me along to show me the bathroom.
“Let’s head down,” I sigh after we’ve seen the whole room.
“Are you alright?”
“To be honest, I wish I didn’t have to share the same bed as your brother,” I chuckle dryly.
“I see. Let’s head down. We have to go try on your wedding dress,” Carmela comments as we leave the room.
“Can’t wait,” I mutter, my lack of enthusiasm dancing on the tip of my tongue as the words come out, making Carmela smile. Let the punishments begin.
“Izzy has been acting weird,” I tell Carmela as we head into town.
“Weird? How so?” Carmela asks, putting her phone in her purse.
“I mean, she’s been distant since we got here, almost like she doesn’t want to be around me,” I say, glancing at Cito who has his eyes glued to the road in front of him and his expression neutral.
“Like she prefers staying with your parents and my father?”
“Exactly! You see it too, don’t you?” I ask in relief. At least I’m not seeing things.
Carmela turns to face me, taking my hands in hers. “Vee, our parents decided on your wedding day without your consent and even though your sister tried to defend you, she couldn’t win. She doesn’t want that to happen again, that’s why she’s spending so much time with them.”
“But . . .” I stop, not sure how to voice just how grateful I am for what Isabella is doing for me.
“She loves you, Vee, and I know she wanted to be with you while you tried on your dress. But she wanted to help, and it’s the only way she could think of to make things a little easier on you.”
“I wish she was here with us. Izzy and I do everything together, it’s just weird,” I explain, looking down at our joined hands. This might not be how I pictured things going, but I’ve always dreamed of having her there with me when I did try on dresses.
“I know, but let her be a big sister. Your parents are doing what they think is best for you. Izzy has to be there to tell them what is the best, so cut her some slack,” she says, smiling warmly at me.
“You sound like Lisa,” I giggle, feeling a lot better.
“Lisa?”
“Adam’s baby sister. She’s so wise beyond her years that I forget she’s in college sometimes,” I laugh, shaking my head as I think of some of the things she’s said.
“Adam? The cop who Raphael killed?” Carmela asks, her brow arching, like she’s caught on that Adam might mean more to me than just some cop I witnessed dying.
“Yeah, the same Adam,” I sigh.
I haven’t told any of them about my history with Adam or who Adam was to me . . . who we were to each other. It’s strange hearing someone ask about him, but I don’t mind. Everyone at home already assumes to know how I feel, so no one really asks me about it. But now, sitting here with Carmela, it feels good talking about him.
“You two were close? I’m sorry I’m asking.”
“It’s fine, I like that you are. I don’t think I’ve spoken about him in a context outside grieving,” I admit, smiling softly as I look out at the road.
“So, I’m guessing he was a best friend or a boyfriend?” Carmela asks.
“Both actually,” I say, noticing the way Cito’s facial muscles twitch a little. While he may not act like he’s listening, there’s no way he isn’t paying attention to what we’re saying.
“Oh! Oh my! I had no idea, I’m so sorry. You poor thing,” Carmela says, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me tight.
My body melts into hers as she holds me. She’s not hugging me because she feels like she should, she’s doing it because she wants to. There’s comfort in knowing that she has no idea who Adam was, and she felt nothing towards him. For the first time in almost four months I get to feel only my emotions and not worry how others are hurting too.
“Thank you, Cam,” I smile as I picture his smile. “He was the best.”
“I can bet he was. You were there? When he . . .” she starts, clearing her throat. “When Raphael shot him.”
“Yeah, I was. He asked me to stay in the car, but I didn’t listen. I showed up and he . . .” I admit, pausing as guilt washes over me again and memories of that night show clear as day in my head.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Carmela assures me, squeezing my hands.
“It’s okay, the last time I did was in court, and I’d like to change that,” I say as I smile at her, letting my eyes show her that I mean it.
“Spill away then,” she says, making us chuckle.
“I don’t know why I followed him. I called for backup, but I didn’t want Adam alone with Raphael. My dad and Luca talked a lot about him and his mob, so I knew he was bad news. I just couldn’t stay back,” I tell her, watching Cito’s expression closely. His eyes dart to me in the mirror for a split second, like he knows I’m looking at him, and then he’s looking back at the road. Something about him knowing and understanding me a little more makes me feel better about being here without Adam. “Raphael saw me and pointed the gun at me, a sick way of testing if a cop would choose saving an innocent life or killing the criminal.”
“He chose you, didn’t he?” Carmela whispers and I nod.
“He chose me,” I confirm, the words filling my heart with guilt and gratitude, one thing I don’t deserve.
“He shielded me. I couldn’t even watch the life slowly drain out of him because I was too focused on killing Raphael. I took Adam’s gun and shot Raphael. My aim was good, so I don’t understand why I didn’t kill the bastard,” I scoff, shaking my head. “Back up came one minute late, because right after Raphael was on the ground, they swooped in. It was too late for Adam.”
“Damn, that must have been hard,” Carmela says, her thumb rubbing over the back of my hand in a comforting gesture.
“It is, it still is. I should’ve stayed put, just like he asked.”
“Was he a good cop?” Carmela asks.
“The best,” I confirm, smiling as I think about all of the good things he’d done while on the force.
“Raphael is a ruthless bastard, he would’ve killed Adam either way. The way I see it, you left the car to be there for Adam one last time,” Cito says, shocking me and bringing tears to my eyes.
Nothing about his demeanor has changed, his eyes are still focused on the road and his expression’s unwavering. Is he really saying I’m not responsible for Adam’s death? Or is he just trying to comfort me? Whichever it is, I’ll take this new glimmer of hope that I may not be the reason Adam died, that maybe, just maybe, I was where I was supposed to be so Adam didn’t have to die alone.
Ciro’s words from before echo through my head just as I start to let some of the guilt inside me melt away. Raphael was ruthless. Did Adam not stand a chance against him? Was Ciro right and he was just walking into his death? No, he wasn’t! Cito might be right, but Ciro can never be right about that. Adam wasn’t a stupid cop like Ciro thought. He didn’t know Adam. Cito seemed to know Adam, at least it sounded like he might, so his words came from a place of emotion, unlike Ciro who said whatever his empty skull let him say.
“Cito is right. But if you blame yourself, I can’t tell you to stop. Feel every emotion, but don’t let them consume you.”
“Emotions cloud judgment, Carmela,” Cito says, looking at her through the rearview mirror.
He sounded so much like Ciro, yet his words felt so different.
“Only when you let them consume you,” Carmela says, flashing him a grin.
“My girl,” he smirks proudly, before pulling up in front of the building that has a display of wedding dresses on the top floor.
“You two are cute,” I laugh as Cito parks the car.
“You’re cuter,” Carmela teases before opening her door and stepping out.
“Shall we?” she asks as we stand in front of the building, looking up at the neon sign that says ‘Sposa a Casa’.
“What does it mean? The sign,” I ask as we walk into the building.
“Bride at home,” Carmela replies, shaking her head and shrugging.
“Not the most catchy business name, but it works,” I tease.
“I said the same thing!” Carmela laughs.
“Is it just me or do people here not get married often?” I whisper, noticing that we are the only ones here to get a dress.
Carmela laughs before turning to face me, her smile bright and her arms wide, “I got us the whole place for today.”
“What!?” I exclaim. I can’t even imagine how much that would have cost.
“I’m trying to impress you,” she teases, winking at me.
“Can I marry you instead? Will Cito mind?” I ask, pretending to beg with my biggest puppy dog eyes, which makes us both laugh.
“He was married once, so I can be too,” she shrugs like it’s no big deal, turning and dragging me further into the store.
“Wait what?” I gasp, my brain trying to process what she’s just told me.
“Go try on your gown!” Carmela laughs as she pushes me into the dressing room.
“What do you think?” I ask Carmela as I walk out.
“Jesus! You look breathtaking. Oh my God!” she shouts, jumping up to hug me.
“You think so? It feels so . . . beady and shiny,” I laugh, watching as the dress shimmers in the overhead lighting.
My hands gently skim over the beads and glitter that adorn the dress, loving the way the different textures feel against my skin. It was a pretty gown, I can’t deny that.
“Girl! I know so, take a look at yourself,” she assures me, pulling me to the full length mirror.
Standing here looking at my reflection staring back at me, I look beautiful. The girl in front of me is indeed breathtaking, and God, does that make me sad.
“Are you okay?” Carmela asks, noticing my shift in emotions.
“Adam would’ve loved this dress,” I whisper, smiling sadly at the girl staring back at me. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“He had great taste, of course he would’ve,” Carmela says, trying to make me smile.
“Oh he did!” I confirm, smiling as I remember all of the times he and I got dressed up together.
“I know being here is a lot, and marrying my brother is the last thing you want. But you can talk about Adam all you want with me, I won’t mind,” Carmela says, her hands on my shoulders as our gazes connect in the mirror.
“I’m glad I’ll be getting you as a sister, Cam, I don’t know how I’d be here without Izzy if you weren’t in the picture.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I’ll let you have a moment, I know you need it,” she says, smiling at our reflections.
“Thank you so much, Cam. I just need five minutes. I’ll change and be right out.”
“Alright then, take your time,” she says, giving my shoulders a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before leaving me alone with this dress and my feelings.
I take a deep breath as the silence settles around me now that I’m alone. I’m grateful I have Carmela here, her presence has made all of this a little more bearable, but it’s been over five hours since I got here, and the person I’m getting married to has been nowhere in sight. Is this what my life will be like? Legally married to a man who I never see, or will it be different? Knowing Ciro as little as I do, I doubt it will be better than this.
Not wanting to ruin the rest of today by letting those thoughts sour my mood, I let out a deep sigh and head back to the dressing room to take off the dress. Carmela has been doing her best to keep me happy while Izzy is stuck with our parents, trying to make sure more rash decisions weren’t taken on my behalf. I will do my best for both of them.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath as I fumble with the zipper, the tugging and pulling only seeming to make things worse. Is the universe trying to test me now? Right after deciding I would do my best to stay happy, this is what I get?
After a few more tries, I give up and decide to step out and call for Carmela. As I turn, a gentle hand on my shoulder stops me. Maybe the universe wanted to have a good laugh so it sent Carmela right on time to save me.
“I don’t understand how it was so easy to get it on and now it’s so hard to take off,” I scoff, standing still while the hands work on my stuck zipper.
I can feel skin grazing my back as she works at trying to free me. The touch feels so cold, so gentle, and so different from what I remember her touches being like before.
“Are you alright? You feel cold,” I ask, trying to turn, but her grip on my dress holds me still.
“Okay,” I say, staying still even though I’m a bit confused. Carmela is never this quiet. Did something happen?
The dressing room is quiet for another few seconds, until I feel the zipper finally slowly moving down. “Finally, thank you, Cam.”
“She hates that name,” the brooding familiar voice says, making me yelp in shock.
“What are you doing here!?” I ask, covering myself with a dress as the back hangs open. There may be nothing to cover, but I won’t take any chances, not with him standing in front of me.
“Helping with your zipper? You’re not that dense are you?” Ciro asks, his eyes roaming my body.
“Get out!” I order, furious that he’s even daring to try to sneak a peek.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” he says, putting his hands in his pocket and leaning on the dressing room wall, making himself comfortable.
“I need to change, get out please,” I say as calmly as I can, using my manners in hopes that it’ll work, though it’s not like he has any to begin with.
“You begging won’t change that. Get dressed, we need to talk,” he says, his eyes meeting mine.
“What?”
“You really are stupid? Or deaf? Get fucking dressed. We need to talk. Now!”
“We can talk when I’m done getting dressed. Leave,” I counter, my tone unwavering.
“Look, I don’t have all day, and hiding your body from me wouldn’t change the fact that in two days, I can do as I see fit with it. So I suggest you get used to my eyes on your fucking breasts, if that’s what you have a problem with,” he sneers.
How? How can someone be so mean, so rude and fucking disrespectful? How can Carmela be a twin to someone this wicked?
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I say, my voice low.
“I will talk and do with you as I fucking please. Now, get dressed because we need to talk,” he orders.
“Please, just leave,” I whisper, this time it isn’t because I have manners, this time it’s because I didn’t want to keep going back and forth with him. I just want him to leave me alone.
“You beg nicely, but I will stay. Get to it,” he says, his eyes not leaving where my hands hold the dress tightly over my chest.
We both stand here unmoving until it’s clear he’s serious and that I have no other option but to do this. Sighing, I slowly loosen my grip and slide the dress down my body, being careful not to wreck it and not to let him think his stare affects me. I can feel his gaze on me the entire time, but I try to avoid it as I hang the dress back up, wearing nothing but my panties. His eyes stay trained on my every move as I pick up my bra and put it on, his deep browns lock onto my hands as I cup my breasts to fit them properly into my bra. His brow cocks just slightly as he takes in my yellow shirt with books on it, but he doesn’t comment on it. I really don’t care if he likes it or not. I like it. I don’t look at him as I pull my black jeans on, trying to pretend he’s not watching me as I do them up and collect myself.
“I’m done,” I tell him, fixing some of my brown, full, curly hair that’s fallen into my face.
“Raphael or Donato?” he asks, his eyes piercing mine.
“What?” I ask, my heart racing a bit, those two names making me start to sweat a little.
I hate the power those men have over me and how my body’s first response to their names is fear before anger or hate.
“Are you scared?” he asks, noticing how tense I’ve become.
“Is that what you came to talk about? Who I fear the most between them?” I ask, irritation clear in my voice.
I’d just been practically naked in front of him only for him to mock me in the end? So he could say I am just a weak cry baby again? Is that why he let me humiliate myself like that? No man has ever seen me naked besides Adam, and though it makes my skin crawl knowing Ciro would too someday, I hate that he took the choice from me here. He took something from me that I wasn’t ready to give in the most disrespectful way.
“No. Who do you want dead first?” he asks, staring at me.
“What?” I scoff. He can’t be serious, right?
Ciro’s plain and expressionless look gives me the answer I’m looking for, though. He is serious, dead serious at that.
“You’re serious?” I ask again, just to be sure.
“Do I look like a fucking clown? Answer the question,” he orders.
“Why would you ask me that? How would I know? Plus, if you want them dead, my opinion doesn’t matter,” I say, crossing my arms.
He pulls his hand out of his pocket and runs it through his hair, his black hair that he’s probably dyed recently. There’s no blond strands in sight and I almost wonder what he’d look like with strands of blond dancing around the forest of black thick hair.
“It doesn’t, but . . .” he stops, looking frustrated.
“Donato,” I blurt out, cutting him off.
“Good answer,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching like it wants to turn up in a smile but he fights it off.
“But . . .” I begin again, wondering what he’ll think of me if I say what I want to say.
Do I care, though? No, not when it comes to a man like him.
“But?” He arches his brow, waiting for me to continue.
“I want Raphael to suffer more,” I admit.
He smirks. Ciro Ballera actually smirks right in front of me. It lasts two seconds, but the image will be burned into my memory, though I’m not sure why. I shouldn’t want it to be.
“That’s a very good girl,” he praises, causing something inside me to stir.
No, I’m not happy he called me that for wanting a man to suffer, I only liked that he was on board with my idea, nothing else!