Chapter 12
FABIANA
The call came late in the evening of the third day following Gino’s death.
I was already in bed in my pajamas, drinking a cup of mint tea and flipping through a pottery magazine that had come in the mail today.
The house was quiet. Cleo had gone to sleep early, and Rafe was working in his office downstairs.
He’d been so busy that I’d barely seen him the last few days.
I glanced at the screen and stilled when I saw the caller’s name.
I’d been expecting it. Cosimo and I had things to discuss—namely when he planned to break the news to Rafe that we weren’t getting married. By now, he must’ve realized I was going to let him do the honors.
I picked up. “Hello.”
“Fabiana.” Cosimo’s voice was rougher than usual, as if strained by overuse.
I didn’t know how to sort through the feelings that hearing his voice stirred.
He was still an ass, but he’d just lost his father, and I felt sorry for him.
My anger had cooled in the aftermath of Gino’s death, though it hadn’t gone away entirely.
I wasn’t sure it ever would after the way he’d treated me.
The silence stretched for a beat too long.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I said. “It’s terrible what happened. I didn’t know him well, but we spoke a little at the engagement party, and I could tell he loved you a lot.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” He sounded tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days. Was there anyone taking care of him?
I caught myself. Nope. None of my business.
I placed the half-empty mug on the nightstand. “How are you handling things?”
“There’s a lot to sort out now that he’s gone. I’m trying to stay on top of everything.”
“I can imagine.” I fingered the duvet. His answer didn’t touch on how he was actually feeling, but then again, why would it? We weren’t friends. Soon enough, we wouldn’t be anything to each other at all.
I cleared my throat. There was no point delaying the conversation any longer.
“I haven’t said anything to Rafe yet about our engagement.
As soon as he came home from his trip, he told me about Gino.
It felt like the wrong time to bring it up.
I figured there’s no reason you can’t call it off yourself now that you’re don. ”
“I’m not don. In our family, when a don dies, there’s a period of mourning. Once the mourning period is over, the don is voted on and officially sworn in.”
I nodded slowly. “I see. So you’re still underboss.” Which had to mean he was in command by default. Right? That must be what Rafe had meant when he said Cosimo was now in charge. “Do you know when you’ll talk to my brother? About calling the engagement off?”
Silence.
“Cosimo? You still there?”
“I’m not calling it off.”
Something cold dropped through me. I sat up against the pillows. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re getting married, Fabiana.”
Had he lost his mind? “With all due respect, no. We’re not.”
“Everything has changed. Listen—”
“No, you listen.” The sharpness in my own voice startled me. “I’m sorry. I know you’re grieving. But that dinner made it crystal clear that me and you are never going to work.”
“Everything has changed,” he repeated as if that explained anything. “I can’t lose this alliance with Messero now that my family’s destabilized.”
Something hot flared inside my chest. “You never planned on losing your alliance with Rafaele, marriage or not,” I said sharply.
“It’s obvious you believed you could find a way to keep your business relationship with my brother intact regardless of whether we got married.
Otherwise, I imagine you would have tried at least a little bit harder to make it work. ”
“That’s true.” He sounded mildly taken aback, like he thought even a simple deduction like that was beyond me.
Which was fine. I wasn’t trying to prove anything to him.
Not anymore. I just wanted to move on. The quicker we ceased to have a reason to have any contact with each other, the quicker I’d forget about the way my pulse skittered in his vicinity.
“I won’t try to pit Rafaele against you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said.
“There are other reasons why this marriage isn’t optional anymore.”
And he obviously wasn’t in any rush to share them with me. No, he just expected to do a complete one-eighty and have me go along with it like some trained monkey.
My fist squeezed around my phone. “Do you not see how ridiculous you’re being?” I demanded. “You told me I don’t have what it takes to be a don’s wife, and now you’ve changed your mind, and you respect me so little that you won’t even explain to me the real reasons why!”
“I need to project stability and strength to the family. If my first act in the aftermath of Dad’s death does anything to jeopardize the partnership he worked so hard to establish, it’ll do the opposite.”
“I’m sure you can find a way to explain it to them,” I said, unmoved. He wanted me to be a part of his personal PR campaign. How little did he think of me to presume I’d go along with this after how he’d treated me? I still possessed some self-respect.
“Fabiana—”
All the hurt I’d been holding down—the rehearsed speeches, the nights staring at the ceiling, the humiliation that burned in my throat like acid—rose up and spilled over.
“I won’t do it, Cosimo. Not to help you avoid a difficult conversation with your family.
You clearly didn’t care about how difficult it would have been for me to tell Rafaele I couldn’t go through with the marriage.
So, no, Cosimo. The answer is no. Out of respect, I’ll give you a few days to talk to Rafaele yourself.
If you won’t, I’ll do it myself. This engagement is done. ”
And then I did something I’d never done in my entire life.
I hung up on him.
Not ten seconds later, my phone rang again.
I picked up against my better judgment.
“I’ve taken care of the problem with your coworker.”
The words I’d been about to say—don’t call me again—died on my tongue. “What?”
“She just received an offer from a museum in Zurich, where she’ll be managing special events. A short-term contract for now, but they’ll extend it if she manages to impress them.”
I blinked at the wall across from me while my brain scrambled to make sense of this information. “You got Mona a job? How?”
“The hiring manager doesn’t make a lot. Life in Geneva is expensive. Guess you could say I bribed him.”
I nearly choked on my next inhale. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“That wasn’t my intentio—”
“I don’t understand.” I gripped the phone tighter. “Why would you do that?”
“So you can stop feeling guilty about something that wasn’t your fault. I figured after how I’ve treated you these last few months, a kind gesture was in order.”
Inside me, something loosened. A kind gesture. I suppose it was if you ignored the illegality of it.
I’d carried a weight on my shoulders ever since Geneva, worrying about Mona. Wondering if I’d screwed up her entire career.
Now I could stop. She was going to be fine.
I guess I had Cosimo to thank for that. And I’d thank him. But I wasn’t going to marry him. “I appreciate that, Cosimo. But a kind gesture isn’t going to change my mind.”
“I’ve also taken care of your boss.”
Apprehension filtered through my lungs. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I would send you the photos my associate provided, but I’m not sure you want to see them.”
“Photos? Oh my God.”
“He’ll be fine after a few surgeries.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth.
“He emailed his resignation this morning. In it, he explained in detail exactly what happened between you two. He admitted to it all. I expect your name will be completely cleared at the UN.”
I didn’t know what to say. Inside me, everything frothed and buzzed.
The truth was out. My name would be cleared. I would’ve rejoiced if not for the methods Cosimo had used to get these results. Girarde was a liar, but he didn’t deserve the mob treatment.
“You really, really didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Yeah. I did. He made the unfortunate mistake of fucking with my future wife.”
“Not your future wife.” Was he trying to make me feel indebted to him so that I would consider going through with the marriage? Or was he genuinely trying to make amends?
I understood him best when he was cruel. This version of him—terrifying yet weirdly thoughtful in the same breath—made me feel unsteady.
“Cosimo, my answer is still no. Goodbye.” Again, I hung up. I didn’t want to hear any more.
I got out of bed, stumbled to the window, and stuck my head out into the November air to cool off. Adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream. Cosimo wasn’t someone who gave up easily. That much was painfully clear.
How had he even found the time to do all this while he was dealing with everything else? Had this marriage really become this important for his family? For him?
Now that he wanted to marry me again, how far would he go? And if he kept refusing to call off the wedding, would Rafe let me back out?
I’d never been certain that he would. And now, with Gino dead, I wasn’t sure if my odds had gotten better or worse.
I nibbled on my nail and stared at the moon, wondering for the dozenth time since I’d returned to New York what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
A half hour or so later, I was downstairs making myself another tea when the doorbell rang.
I jumped. Scalding water spilled everywhere, barely missing my bare toes.
Shuffled footsteps sounded in the foyer. Rafe had placed additional security inside the house, much to Cleo’s and Yeti’s annoyance. Yeti barked at everyone he didn’t know well, and right now, he was losing it.
A familiar low voice reached me, and my stomach dropped.
“Fabiana!” My brother’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Come here.”
I trudged toward them the way a prisoner walks to the gallows. The two men stood close to each other talking, and I had a sinking feeling that my chances of getting out of the marriage were diminishing with every word.