Chapter Sixteen
Vida
M y heart hammers in my chest as I hold the cold metal in my hands, trying not to tremble but failing miserably. Everything feels like it’s going so fast yet so slow as I watch Carmela move like a predator, focused and lethal. I’ve never seen Carmela like this, but she is worth watching. I just wish it was under different circumstances.
“Follow me and stay close,” Carmela whispers, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
We move into the house, every step calculated. Carmela’s eyes scan the area as she slowly opens the front door, her breathing steady and her senses sharp and on high alert.
“Will you wait in the car?” she turns to ask, her slightly worried expression telling me that me going with her will likely only slow her down.
“No, especially not after seeing that,” I whisper, freezing as I lay eyes on the body on the floor.
“Shit,” Carmela curses, turning and heading towards the guard who is lying face down on the floor, unmoving. She kneels next to him and presses a finger to his neck, searching for a pulse.
“Is he dead?” I whisper, my heart about ready to burst out of my chest.
“He’s not,” she mutters, the two words barely audible, before rising to her feet. She sighs as she straightens, her expression hardening before she shifts her focus to me.
“Father’s room is upstairs. Whoever did this might either be there or . . .” she pauses but I’m quick to cut in.
“No one would kill Matteo, at least not as easily as this.”
“I know,” Carmela smiles with a nod, taking a deep breath and turning her gaze towards the stairs. “Shall we?”
I nod and grip the gun tighter in my hands before following Carmela’s lead. I have no idea what I’ll do if we face a real threat, but I’ve decided to give this life a chance. That includes guns and unexpected reasons to use them.
“Stay here,” Carmela commands, but I can’t stay put. I don’t know whether it’s fight or flight, but I am going in there with her. I catch my breath as Carmela opens a black door in front of us, her movements deliberate, like she was a trained soldier.
Carmela takes the first step into the room and swiftly moves in one silent motion as she turns towards the noise we hear behind the door, gun raised and ready to shoot.
“Father!” she calls, wrapping her arms around him in relief.
“Ah! My dear,” he responds, coming out of his hiding spot.
“What happened?” she asks worriedly, both of us looking around and noticing the man lying beaten and unconscious on the ground several feet away.
“Federico,” he replies, rolling his eyes.
“Isn’t he dead?”
“Apparently not,” he says, his head whipping in my direction as he takes another step forward and notices me standing here, his eyes widening as they land on me.
“Carmela! What is she doing here?” he questions, his voice loud and angry.
“We came to see you and I noticed your guard was missing.”
So that was what she was searching for.
“Why isn’t she in the car?” he asks, his hands on his hips as he waits for her response.
“I wouldn’t stay? It’s not her fault, Matteo” I reply, coming closer to them and getting a better look at the bloodied man on the floor.
Is he dead? I want to ask, but decide against it. Now doesn’t exactly feel like the time.
“Is your brother on his way?” he asks Carmela as he runs a hand through his black hair.
“Yes, I sent him a call,” she tells him and my brain tries to remember when she would have had time to do that.
“You did? But . . .”
“The red button on the rearview mirror, it’s the SOS call button to his phone. You didn’t know that?” Carmela asks, arching her brow at me. I shake my head which just makes her look even more confused, her eyes squinting at me. “But Ciro said you sent him one when you had the Donato issue.”
“The what?!” Matteo cuts in, his voice raising an octave with his shock.
“Nothing, nothing. It was nothing serious,” I reply, faking a laugh in hopes that he’ll believe me. He looks at me for a long second before he seems to decide to let it go for now.
“Get to the car, my dear. Your husband will unleash hell if he finds out you jumped right into danger,” Matteo says calmly, taking my hands into his and squeezing them. “Thank you for coming with her, even when you had no idea what you were coming into.”
His words and warm smile make me smile. I hadn’t thought about it at the time but I did risk my life to come with Carmela. I don’t know why I didn’t think about what following her in here would mean for me. Maybe I’m stupid, or maybe I’m finally ready to let myself see them as family. As I look at these two, I know that last part is true. I was glad I came along and that Matteo is safe. Regardless of his age and health, he can still handle himself. The guy lying on the floor is just proof of that.
“I’m glad you’re safe, Matteo,” I say before turning to Carmela. “If your brother finds out, tell him I wouldn’t listen.”
Carmela nods and laughs before hugging me. I leave the two of them alone, heading for the stairs so I can make my way back to the car. As I take my last step, someone grabs me from behind, quickly covering my mouth and pressing a knife to my throat.
“One sound out of you and I’ll slit your pretty neck wide open,” he warns in my ear, his hot breath on my skin sending a shiver down my spine.
I still have my gun in my hand, but will I even be able to use it before he notices what I’m doing and cuts my neck open?
“Move,” he orders, pushing me out of the house.
“Please,” I whisper, trying hard to think of a way out of this, or a way to at least make a sound loud enough for Carmela and Matteo to hear me.
“Didn’t I say you should shut up?” he hisses, pressing the blade into my skin a little harder to make his point.
I can’t tell if he’s cut me or not, my whole body is so busy shivering in fear that a little cut on my skin was the least of my worries.
“Do you have the keys?” he asks, pushing me towards the car Carmela and I had driven here in.
“Yes,” I lie, hoping this will stall him long enough for me to think of something.
“Move bitch!” he orders, tugging harder on my arm.
“You look new, who are you?” he asks, his mouth next to my ear, as his hand makes its way to my butt as we walk.
“Please,” I plead, disgust filling me as his hand slides possessively over her butt.
“Shut up! We should have some fun before I take you to my boss,” he laughs, his gross, wet tongue tracing my ear, making me want to hurl.
“Get your fucking hand off my wife!” the thunderous voice echoes in the air, making both the man and I freeze in panic.
“Come any closer and I’ll slit her throat,” he warns, holding the knife closer to my neck. If I had realized he’d moved it away from my neck before, I would have done something.
My gaze finds Ciro as the man holding me captive turns us to face him. He looks angry, livid even, but not towards me, no, his eyes are glued on the man behind me. There’s a split second where he looks at me and I swear I can see his anger turning to something else . . . something like worry? My life is in danger and all I can think is that Ciro may actually have a heart. Am I losing my mind?
“You won’t get a clean shot,” the man laughs tauntingly as Ciro draws his gun, aiming it at him.
My heart sinks as I process his words. He’s right. Ciro won’t get a clean shot, there was no way he could with how we’re standing. But, looking at Ciro, he doesn’t look worried. He looks too calm for someone who doesn’t have a clean shot, except . . .
“You wound me,” Ciro smirks, the dark amusement in his voice makes me feel something, something I can’t believe I could ever feel towards him.
“You’ll kill her! Or is this bitch not worth anything to your family?” the man cackles, his other hand viciously groping my breast over my shirt.
“I could make good use of her if she’s worth nothing,” he mocks, still holding the knife to my throat, now slightly cutting into my skin.
Time seems to slow as I stare at Ciro. The world fades around me, leaving only he and I and the man with the knife. If Ciro doesn’t shoot, this madman will have me, and I would rather be dead than let that happen.
“I trust you,” I say, my gaze locked with his. He just stares back at me for what feels like a million years, searching for any hint of a lie. He won’t find anything, I meant every single word of that. I trust him.
His gaze turns back to the man who is holding a knife to my throat and grabbing my breast, the sight letting something wild loose inside him.
“Shoot, Ciro,” I order, my feet staying planted where they are. Even my heartbeat feels non-existent at the moment.
The sound of a gun going off and the splatter of blood that pours onto me jerks my heart back to life. As the knife leaves my neck, the presence of the man behind me vanishes. My eyes stay locked on Ciro’s like it isn’t possible for me to look anywhere else.
“Vida!” I barely hear Carmela as she calls my name. My legs can’t move and my eyes can’t stop staring at Ciro. I watch as he takes his first step towards me, then the second and the third, and after that I lose count. How many steps has he taken to close the distance between us? Seven? Maybe ten? I have no idea.
“Vida?” Carmela calls, sounding much closer this time, like she is right beside me.
Why can’t I turn away from Ciro? Am I having a panic attack? Maybe, maybe I am.
“I’ll take her home. When Cito gets here, tell him to chop off his hand,” I hear Ciro say, the venom in his voice barely registering in my ears as I look up at him.
“His hand? Why?” Carmela asks.
I watch as he stares back at me again, my teary brown eyes locked onto his brown ones.
“He touched my wife,” he says with chilling finality before scooping me into his arms and striding towards the car.
“I want both hands gone,” I whisper, a finality in my own words that surprises me a little.
“Cut off both hands!” he yells over his shoulder to Carmela.
“That’s my good girl,” he says as a rare, tender smile turns up his lips. If I hadn’t been looking, I would have missed it. When it disappears again, I close my eyes and let myself succumb to the darkness.
I know I need to open my eyes, but I’m not sure if I’m ready yet. How long has it been since it happened? A few minutes? A day? A couple of days maybe? All I can remember is the sound of the gun going off, the feeling of blood splattering on my skin, and . . . though I try not to think about it, the image is burned into my memory; his eyes, the way he looked at me, almost like he saw everything I am and everything I didn’t know I could be.
What am I thinking? I need to wake up and let everybody know I am fine . . . but am I?
As I slowly open my eyes, I squint as the sunlight burns my pupils. The bed beneath me feels unfamiliar, the sheets too soft, the scent too different. I glance around, letting the realization sink in: this isn’t my room. What am I doing here? Did Carmela bring me here? I try to piece together what happened after the gunshot, but my memory is still blurry.
“Freaking hell,” I almost yell as I look under the sheets. Why am I in my underwear? And not just any underwear, a different set than what I remember putting on before leaving the house with Carmela. What is going on? Why in the world am I half-naked in Ciro’s bed, wearing a different set of underwear?
Panic surges through me as questions flood my mind. My eyes catch sight of a grey shirt draped over a chair by the window. I don’t care if it is Ciro’s, I quickly grab it and put it on. I’m not going to risk anyone finding me naked here.
As I begin to tip-toe to my room, I hear Ciro’s door open. I don’t need to turn and look to know who it is. The silence that follows the footsteps can only mean it’s him.
“I didn’t think you’d be waking up today,” Ciro says, his voice smooth, almost casual.
I turn to face him, my pulse thudding in my ears. Doesn’t he have any other clothing aside from suits?
“I was just going to my room,” I mutter, ignoring his comment, trying to sound composed, even though my mind is anything but.
“I can see that,” he replies, his eyes trailing down my body, a stupid habit he’s grown into since we met.
“If you wanted to cover up, why didn’t you just go to your room?”
“Because I didn’t want you walking in on . . .” I pause, why am I even explaining myself to him?
“I changed you for three days, love, there’s nothing you’re hiding that I haven’t already seen,” he says, his words making me freeze.
“You what?” I whisper, my eyes going wide.
“You heard me.”
“You had no right!” I yell, anger coursing through my body.
Why I am angry, I don’t know. It feels like something inside of me is cracking. He had no right to see me, touch me, or change me!
“Excuse me?” He arches a brow, irritation flashing in his eyes.
“Who gave you the right to do that? Huh?” I demand, my voice trembling with rage.
“You must be fucking stupid!” he roars, taking a step closer to me. “After pulling that fucking stunt, your problem is that I fucking undressed you?”
He’s right. Is that my problem? After everything that happened, why am I fixated on this?
“Yes! That’s my problem,” I answer sharply, my hands balling into fists at my side.
“You followed my sister into that house, not caring if things would’ve gone fucking wrong!”
“It was my choice to make,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, my glare still fixed on him.
“A fucking dumb choice,” he shoots back.
“That isn’t what we were talking about,” I say, frustration bubbling up as the conversation spirals out of control.
“We are done with the fact I changed you. You are my wife, get used to that. I will do whatever I please as long as you’re not shivering and soaked in another man’s fucking blood!” he roars, making me flinch.
My brain feels sluggish. Processing what he just said is a task my mind seems unwilling to complete.
“I . . .” I begin, but swallow the words right back down.
“No!” he snaps, his voice sharp and commanding. “You do not talk while I talk! This will be the fucking last time you pull that shit! I don’t care what you’re trying to prove or who the fuck you’re trying to prove it to, you will not go into a battlefield blind again!”
“Do you fucking understand me?” he asks, now only inches away from me. His breath is hot on my face, his words almost searing into my skin.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. My mouth is dry, and I can start to feel the sting of tears threatening to spill over, but I refuse to let them fall. Crying in front of Ciro Ballera is not an option.
“Use your fucking words, little chaos,” he orders.
I hate the names he calls me, the way they twist around his tongue like a cruel joke. But, something about this very name makes me raise my head and meet his gaze.
“I understand you,” I whisper, my response barely audible, but loud enough to satisfy him.
“Good. Keep the shirt and be downstairs in ten. We’re going on our honeymoon,” he commands, his tone flat and dismissive, as if everything he’d just said was trivial.
“Okay,” I reply, turning to open the door.
“Little chaos,” he calls.
That isn’t my name, so why do I stop? I don’t turn to look at him but stay still as I wait to hear whatever it is he has to say.
“No one gets to touch you except me! Do you understand me?” His voice is calmer now, almost like the words weren’t meant for me, but the underlying threat is unmistakable.
“I do,” I say automatically, and with that I leave, shutting the door behind me and walking into my room.
As I lay on my bed, the familiar mattress that I sink into with ease, my memories that were once a haze begin to piece themselves together, like a puzzle I wasn’t sure I wanted to solve.
Why had I asked him to shoot? What if he shot me instead? And why . . . why had I asked him to chop that man’s hands off? I try but can’t find answers to any of these questions, so as I get up to change my clothes, I conclude it was anxiety, or just maybe I had finally gone mad.
My anger at him and the way I felt uncomfortable with him so close had seemed to cloud my mind, but as I finish getting dressed, his words come back to me like a truck slamming into me; honeymoon. What does he mean we’re going on our honeymoon? Weren’t those for couples who were happily married? And can’t he find a better time to go than now? After almost killing me? Even if I was the one who asked him to shoot, and had decided I’d rather die than be taken by that man, this still isn’t the time to just pack up and go on a honeymoon.
“Vee!” Carmela calls, barging in and wrapping her arms around me in a warm hug.
“Hi,” I breathe, letting some of my frustration melt out of me as I embrace the only person that makes all of this bearable.
“How are you feeling? I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, I was out getting a few things in order,” she explains, pulling back slightly to look me over.
“It’s okay, Cam, I’m alright. I just . . .” I sigh, still trying to process everything. “Your brother said we . . .”
“The honeymoon?” Carmela chuckles, walking over to sit on the edge of my bed. “It’s just for a week, chill.”
“I can barely stand being in the same room as him right now. How am I supposed to live with him, alone, for a week?”
“After the Federico fiasco the other day, Father thought it was best for you two to act like a normal couple. So it doesn’t look suspicious,” she explains.
“Who is this Federico guy?” I ask, remembering the name from the other day.
“An old business partner of the family and Mother’s crush,” Carmela laughs, shaking her head.
“Your mom had a crush on him? Or is it the other way around?”
“The other way around, obviously. He was obsessed with her. After she died, he disappeared for a while. We thought grief had finally swallowed him whole,” she shrugs.
“And now he’s back? What does he want?”
“To kill the man who killed his love.”
“But your father wouldn’t,” I start, not able to picture Matteo doing such a thing.
“Federico doesn’t know that, Vee. Anyway, enough about all this,” Carmela says as she gets up, stopping the conversation before I find out more than I bargained for.
“There’s more, isn’t there? It isn’t about just an old flame,” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me as I watch Carmela move towards my wardrobe.
“There is,” Carmela admits softly, “but you’ll find out more when you’re ready.”
I hesitate before nodding, not sure I’m mentally ready at the moment to go deep and dark into the family business. “So this honeymoon is to make sure everyone knows this marriage is for real?”
“Yes. And you’ll have the house to yourself. Ciro will be busy with . . . work,” she explains, not turning to look at me.
“Not that I’m complaining, but no one works on their honeymoon.”
“Well, Ciro isn’t exactly conventional,” Carmela giggles, joining me in picking out clothes for the trip.
“Can I ask you something, Vee?”
“Yeah?”
“How long have you had nightmares?”
I freeze, my heart stuttering in my chest. I turn, eyes wide, scared my biggest secret has been laid bare. “What? How did you . . .”
“Since Adam,” I admit quietly, the tension in my body slowly easing. Maybe it’s not as big of a deal as I’m thinking. She already knows about Adam, so maybe it’s okay that she knows this too.
“Every night?”
“Yeah. Some nights aren’t so bad.”
“Hmm, and other nights?” she asks, her voice careful, like she’s treading lightly.
“It’s hell,” I admit, smiling sadly at her. “Also, why did you take me to your brother’s room?”
“I didn’t, he did, and he insisted you stay there,” Carmela replies, folding a shirt then setting it into my bag.
“Why?” I ask, furrowing my brows in confusion while wondering if Ciro is really bipolar.
“I don’t know. I was just as surprised. I only found out about the nightmares when he came into the kitchen looking like hell to get warm water. I asked if you were okay, and all he said was ‘she’s having those damn nightmares again,’ and then he went back to you.”
I’m not sure which part of what she said makes me feel guilty for how I shouted at Ciro earlier, but I am certain I don’t like the fact that he knows about my nightmares now. He would have seen me cry, be afraid and in shock. He would have seen parts of me I desperately wanted to keep hidden. Now, after everything, he’s seen me naked in more ways than one. I hate the feeling knowing that brings.
“I’ll miss you, Cam,” I say as we reach the front door, forcing a smile.
“Shut up, it’s just a week,” Carmela teases, pulling me into a tight hug. “But, yes, I’ll miss you more.”
“There’s your driver,” Carmela announces, nodding toward Ciro, who is walking towards the car.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter, taking a deep breath as I try to prepare myself for whatever is coming next.