Chapter Thirty-six
Vida
T he drive home feels like it takes an eternity, a long painful one that has me questioning my existence. Everything I did, I did it for him. Things were not supposed to turn out this way. I was so close to the last step of my plans.
Walking up the stairs to my room feels like a chore, and I’m grateful no one saw me come in. I just want to be in bed, see him, say something, wash away Raymond’s stench off of me . . . hold him. I’m being stupid and silly, still thinking of the man who hates me so much he didn’t even give me a chance to say a single word. I’m tired, just wanting to sleep this day away. I didn’t think it would be this bad, I just . . .
I stand frozen in the doorway of my room, my chest tightening as Ciro’s piercing gaze meets mine. He’s already here, leaning against the dresser, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white. The tension in the air is suffocating, thick with an anger I’ve never seen from him before.
“Ciro . . .”
“Do you ever think?” he cuts me off, his question warning me of what is next to come.
“Answer me,” he explodes the moment I close the door behind me. “Do you have the slightest concept of how much damage you’ve caused or have been causing?”
I open my mouth to say something, but he isn’t done. It doesn’t look like he’s halfway done with me.
“Stupid. Careless. Selfish!” He steps towards me, each word sharp and venomous. “You don’t think about anyone but yourself, do you? Always trying to prove something, always so goddamn reckless!”
No! He’s not right. I wasn’t thinking of myself. All I thought about was him. I’m dying to tell him I was being careful and that I wasn’t being selfish. Maybe I was a little stupid, but it wasn’t for me, it was for him. I’m dying to tell him so bad.
“Ciro . . .”
“Don’t!” he barks, cutting me off again. His voice is raw, every syllable filled with heavy rage. “Do you know what I’ve done for you? How many times have I put my life on the line since you stepped into it?”
He’s right. Fuck! He’s right and I don’t hate it. Not one bit.
“And this is how you repay me? By betraying me? By selling me out?”
The word “betray” hits me like a slap to the face. I blink, my mouth trembling as I try to defend myself.
“I didn’t, I didn’t!” I say, the tears forming behind my eyes and my throat turning dry. I can’t even conjure the words. I want to tell him everything but the lump in my throat blocks all my words.
“You didn’t?” he laughs bitterly, his hand raking through his hair. He’s angry, frustrated, and hurt, and I did that to him. Me! I did that. The very opposite of what I was trying to do.
“You had the nerve to walk into that snake pit and cozy up to Raymond! After everything, after all the risks I’ve taken for you, you still thought you could handle this on your own? What the hell were you trying to prove?”
His words are worse than knives cutting my skin. He didn’t even know what was happening, how can he say things like this to me? Does he really not know me? Did the little moments of no-hate between us mean absolutely nothing to him? I knew for a fact he would tear the universe apart to save me, so how could he ever think I would betray him? It isn’t just the accusation his words hold that breaks me, it’s the disappointment in his eyes.
“Ciro, you don’t understand,” I mutter with a shaky voice.
“No, YOU don’t understand!” he roars, pointing a finger at me.
“You’ve had it easy your whole life, haven’t you? Spoiled, sheltered, protected. You think the world owes you something just because you want it.”
That one stings. My nails dig into my palms as I swallow the lump in my throat. He doesn’t mean these things. He’s just mad. He can’t mean these things.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” he demands, his voice quieter now, but no less cutting.
I force myself to meet his eyes, the tears finally escaping and gushing down my cheeks. “How can I when you won’t give me the chance?”
His nostrils flare, and for a moment he just stares at me, his chest heaving. I watch as the emotion in his eyes turns from disappointment to concern, but that doesn’t last long as the buzz of his phone causes him to tear his gaze from mine.
The moment shatters as he glances at the screen. His jaw tightens as he reads the message, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are colder than I’ve ever seen them.
“I can’t do this,” he says, his tone low, almost a whisper, but it carries the weight of finality.
“I can’t even stand to look at you right now,” he adds, making my tears flow without shame.
“Ciro,” I whisper, my final attempt to say something close to an explanation, but it’s futile. He turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
Silence.
I stand here, stunned, the fight completely draining from me. My legs feel like they might give out at any second, but I don’t move. I can’t.
The door creaks open and Carmela rushes in. Her face is pale and her eyes wide with worry.
“Oh, Vee,” she whispers, pulling me into her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She holds me tight enough to make me feel safe, and the damn inside of me finally breaks. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t try to be strong and carry on like everything is fine, so I let myself break down in her arms. The tears come fast, uncontrollable, wracking my whole body as I cling to her. As the tears flow, I realize I’m still holding back so much, so I let every ounce of guilt, fear, and heartbreak pour out of me.
I’m not sure if I’m crying because of what Ciro said or from the way he looked at me. I’d begged the universe to let him look at me with vulnerability like he had the day we connected. Now that he has, only with such pain and betrayal in his eyes, that look is now glued in my memory, almost worse than any nightmare. So, I hold onto the only person who knows the truth, let her hold me while I cry.
The days have gone by slowly and quietly. I’ve spent my time in my room, locked away from everyone, too afraid to be judged by them.
The stupid Vida had wanted to play the hero, but now I can’t face anyone, except Carmela, who has done everything she can to make me feel better. I don’t even dare ask about Ciro, because the last thing I want to do is face him. Not after the way he left me, standing in my room and crying, begging him to give me a chance to explain. I want to avoid him as much as I can, just like he seems to be avoiding me.
Tonight is unavoidable though, the casino opening is finally here, and whether I like it or not, I have to put on my best face and act like I belong in this sad, ever moving life.
I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of my long black dress. It hugs my body perfectly as the silky fabric flows over my curves and reaches the floor. The slit starts from my hip, opening even wider as it gets to the end of the dress. Why did I have a problem with the slit when Izzy made me buy this gown? Now it’s my favorite part of it. The dress has a sweetheart neckline, dipping enough to tease and show the swells of my breasts. My hair falls in loose waves down my back, with a center part that screams my signature hairstyle. After adding a few simple accessories, I look at my completed look in the mirror, proud of my choice of outfit, yet still I’m not sure it’s enough to face the night ahead or him.
I miss him.
I don’t understand how or why I’ve grown to miss Ciro Ballera, but I do. I miss him being an ass, and him tearing the world apart to keep me safe. I miss our moments like when he admitted to liking pineapple pizza and then watched me laugh. I can’t wrap my head around how the man I’ve hated so much can make me miss him, even after doubting me so much. The thought creeps in against my will, and I hate myself for it.
A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I hesitate as I stare at the door, almost hoping it’s him, though I know better.
“Come in,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady.
Matteo steps in, holding a small box in his hands. His presence fills the room, commanding, yet warm, and he gives me a kind smile as he approaches me. I can see the similarities between him and Ciro. They’re both men that ooze authority and carry this magnetic field that draws in respect. I can see why his wife was crazy about him. He’s a good looking man and I can tell she would’ve loved him in the grey suit he’s wearing so perfectly.
“Hi Matteo,” I greet, forcing a smile on my lips as I walk towards him.
“I hope you get to call me “dad” before I die,” he says lightly, attempting a joke as he laughs it off.
“We have a long time before you go anywhere,” I add, giggling with him.
“I wanted to give you something,” he says, his voice calm, just like it always is. He holds out the box to me before continuing. “Call it a little gift for your bravery.”
“I know what you did in finding the mole. It’s still hard to believe because Vito has been a friend to this family for years.” He sounds hurt and disappointed, but continues with a smile. “Even if Ciro isn’t being very understanding right now, I know you did it for the right reasons.”
His words hit me harder than I expected. My throat tightens, and I force myself to smile, even though tears threaten to spill again.
“Thank you,” I whisper, taking the box from his hands. Carmela knows, Matteo knows now, yet the person I had done all this for can’t even bring himself to understand.
It hurts.
He gives me a pity nod, his eyes soft as they look at me, probably seeing how much his words make me sad. “I’ll be waiting downstairs. I’ll drive you to the casino.”
Ciro always drives me, but why did I think he’d do that tonight? I’m the least of his problems and the last person he probably wants to be around.
I nod back, not trusting my voice enough to say another word. I watch as he turns and leaves, leaving me with my millions of thoughts, ones I wish I can shut out.
The second I hear the door close, I sigh in relief, almost proud of myself for not shedding a tear that’ll ruin both my pride and my mascara. I walk towards my bed, eager to see what is in the box. Opening the box, I sit here in awe as my eyes land on the pair of black heels lying neatly inside. They have these silk straps, the exact kind I love. The exact kind I’d told . . . of course not. They can’t be from him. He hates me too much to even think about getting me shoes.
Before I can dwell on it more than I already have, my phone starts to ring on the dresser.
“Hi Cam,” I say into the phone, happy to be hearing from her. She’d left earlier with Franchesco to go make sure everything was in order.
“All set? I’m sorry I can’t come get you,” she says in a light tone.
“It’s alright. Your dad is bringing me and he got me a gift too,” I say, taking a quick glance at the shoes on my bed.
“Did he now?” she asks and I can picture the mischievous smile on her face.
“Yup! Can’t wait to see you,” I tell her honestly. I really can’t wait to be with her. I hate being alone right now with all these thoughts in my head.
“Right back at ya! And Vee, don’t worry about my brother. I’ll sort this out. I’ll talk some sense into him,” she assures me.
I sigh, too tired to argue. “Okay.”
“Vee,” she adds softly, “It’s going to be okay. Trust me.”
I don’t know how to reply to that, so I just murmur a quiet goodbye and hang up.
After one last look in the mirror, I slip on the heels. They are a perfect fit and make my legs look even longer. I grab my clutch and add an extra layer of perfume before heading downstairs where Matteo is waiting. When he sees me, his face lights up with pride.
“ Sei bellissima ,” he says in Italian, his voice rich with sincerity. “ Come se Dio ti avesse scolpito nei suoi giorni migliori. ”
I blink, startled by the beauty his words carry, even when I don’t understand them.
“What does that mean?” I ask with a smile.
He chuckles, opening the car door for me. “It means you are beautiful, like God sculpted you on his best days.”
Is it too late to be Ciro’s stepmom instead of his wife? I laugh mentally.
I giggle, feeling a warmth I haven’t felt in days. “Thank you, Matteo.”
He nods and then closes my door for me after he makes sure my dress and me are all in.
As we drive toward the casino, my nerves creep back in, twisting in my stomach. I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to Ciro. I wonder what he’s wearing, the color of his suit, and how much of his tattoos will show. I try to picture the look on his face when he sees me. Will he even look at me? Or will he keep pretending I don’t exist?
I hate him for making me not hate him!
I shake the thoughts away, and look out the window at the passing scenery. Whatever happens tonight, I have to face him. Even if it breaks me all over again.