Chapter 17 Enzo #2
"Where did your mind go?" She shakes her head, amused.
"To the night we met. And how I never properly thanked you for what you did for me."
"Really? Enzo, what do you call all this?" She motions to her garish but luxurious apartment.
"I should have made you quit this life; I shouldn't have enabled you further. Now, look at you. Every time I stop by, you look even sicker."
A sad smile plays on her lips, and she lets out a long sigh.
"We're all bound to die one day, Enzo. But let us not diverge into morbid talk, non? Tell me about those unexpected developments." She shifts her attention to me, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.
"I'm married." I say, raising my hand so she can see the wedding band.
"Non, c'est pas vrai!" She exclaims, jumping out of her chaise and coming toward me to study my ring. "Are you really? Or is this some sort of prank? You know how much I want to see my petit fils before I die." She bends her head down, squinting an eye at the band.
"It's real," I confirm.
"Non," she whispers in disbelief. "Tell me it's not la putain, comment s'appelle-t-elle..." She pauses, closing her eyes in consternation.
"No, it's not Gianna Guerra. It's someone I met on my way to Malta."
"Enzo... Mon Dieu!" Her eyes grow wide with wonder. "Tell me everything."
So I do. I recount our entire journey and how I'd come to have a deep respect for her. And how my admiration for her strong morals had prompted me to consider her as my future wife and the mother of my children. I finish with the events from the wedding, only to find maman staring at me curiously.
"What?"
"It's the first time I've ever heard you talk positively about a woman. It makes me want to meet her."
"I'll bring her over next—"
"No, of course not," Maman interrupts me immediately. "How can you bring your wife here? Non, it's not done. But I'm happy that you found yourself such a nice girl. Tell me more."
"She's…" I pause, trying to find the words, "unpredictable. I don't know what it is about her, but she's unlike anyone I've ever met." A smile plays on my lips. "She doesn't like me, you know? I can see the contempt in her eyes, and yet I can't stop myself."
"Enzo, what did you do?" Maman asks suddenly, her eyes narrowing at me. She knows me too well.
"I trapped her," I admit, and maman raises an eyebrow at me. "I did what I do best. I manipulated her into marrying me."
"But why?"
"It's ironic, isn't it? I've spent my entire life fending off unwanted advances from women, and the one woman that intrigues me hates my guts." I stand up, grabbing the bottle of vodka and pouring myself a glass. Maman hands me her cup, and I fill it, too.
Bringing the cup to my lips, I take a big swig, lighting a cigarette afterward.
"I can see how unhappy she is here, but I can't stop myself. I don't know what it is about her, but she awoke something primitive in me."
"Enzo, are you in love?" Maman tilts her head to the side, studying me.
I chuckle, because she couldn't be further off the mark.
"No, it's not love. I don't think I'm capable of that type of love.
Not after everything that happened." Maman is the only one privy to my deepest secrets, my most insidious shame.
"I want to own her… tame that wild spirit of hers.
I want to hide her away from the world so no one else can steal her from me," the words tumble from my lips, and I feel a weight being lifted off my chest as I confess this.
For weeks now, I've been living in a state of pure torment, the thought that Allegra would escape me somehow eating at me day and night.
I'd planned everything to a T, but then she had to overhear my conversation with my father.
My fingers clench around the vodka glass, the confrontation from that night still playing in my mind.
I'd nearly snapped, and my control had cracked.
After years of self-discipline, it seems I finally found someone who can make me react.
"Own her?" She gives a small laugh. "That sounds rather dangereux, Enzo. She's a human being, not a pet."
"And now she's mine. Forever," I say confidently, the only thing that seems to bring me any satisfaction these days.
"Hmm, from what you're saying, she doesn't seem too willing," she notes thoughtfully.
"She'll come around." And even if she won't, there's no turning back.
"We women, we're delicate beings, mon fils. She won't come around just because you will it. And seeing that the stem of the glass might snap at any moment, I'd wager she must have done quite a number on you."
"We had a minor disagreement," I give her a quick outline of our argument, and Maman's eyes widen as she shakes her head at me.
"I never thought you'd be a great romantic, Enzo, but I didn't think you'd be such a brute either.
You must woo her if you want her to submit.
You can't simply expect her to agree to your caveman demands.
From what you've told me so far, she's only seen your hard side.
Show her that you can be soft too. Women love soft. "
"So what, chocolate and flowers?" I ask dryly, almost regretting I'd brought the topic up.
"Bien s?r que non, Enzo! Sometimes I forget that for all your high IQ, your emotional intelligence is the size of a pea."
"Why, merci pour le compliment, maman," I reply ironically, rolling my eyes at her.
"C'est vrai, n'est-ce pas? You need to do more than the bare minimum." She raises a finger to stroke her chin thoughtfully. "Good thing you have me on your side. I will help you romance your wife."
"I'm not sure I want her romanced. I don't want her to misconstrue the nature of our relationship. I just want her more… pliant."
"Oh, my child, you have a long road ahead of you. The beauty of romance is that it isn't rooted in reality, but illusion. Feed her the illusion, and you'll get yourself a pliant wife."
I narrow my eyes at her, the idea moderately appealing but not without its pitfalls.
"But what if she actually falls in love with me?"
"And would that be so bad?"
I don't reply, because I don't know the answer. Part of me would like nothing more than to have Allegra in love with me, because then she'd be completely mine, but another part is afraid that once I see adoration on her face, she will disgust me, like all the others before her.
So no, I don't want her love, but I don't want her hate either.
Is there a middle ground, I wonder?