21. Ghosts
CHAPTER 21
GHOSTS
A ntonio
A thick tension swirls in the air, the atmosphere oppressive in this once beautiful chamber. I glance across the room at Serena, at the fire in her eyes, despite the obvious trauma she’s endured. More than that, she remains standing, shoulders pinned back, even though I can detect the occasional wince when she bears too much weight on her bad ankle.
I’ve never known a woman like her. She’s sharp-witted, with a mouth like a sailor, confident, fearless and of course, gorgeous. Most men I know would’ve crumbled after the past few days and here she is still staring me down, not a speck of fear in those blazing pools of infinite blue.
She should be lying down or at the very least, sitting. I’ve never had to comfort someone who’s gone through attempted rape, but an assault is an assault, and the resulting feelings must be dealt with or they’ll only simmer and grow.
I remind myself that if all goes according to plan in a few days, she’ll be back home with her family. They’ll help her deal with the trauma; it’s not my responsibility to fix it.
Isn’t it though ? A voice that sounds terribly like Mamma ’s echoes through my mind.
“Sit down,” I command, my tone harsh in a feeble attempt to mask the guilt eating away at my insides.
Her brow arches as she regards me incredulously.
I never should have admitted how I was feeling. Soft . Dio , Papà must be rolling over in his grave. She’ll never take me seriously now. I’d only said it in an effort to comfort her, to level the playing field. And it wasn’t a lie, however strongly I wish it was.
How can someone turn your world upside down in a matter of minutes?
No… Otto was right. I hadn’t been myself since that night I’d first laid eyes on her outside of my club in Roma. Only a few words, some loaded glances, and she’d permanently etched herself into my mind.
Dio , is that why I broke things off with Stefania?
The thought only occurs to me now.
“Serena…” Her name on my tongue is more of a plea than a demand. “The doctor made it clear you had to stay off that ankle.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me defiantly. “I can’t,” she hisses.
“You can’t walk?” I rise, my feet moving toward her with a magnetic pull I can’t explain.
“No,” she grits out. “I don’t want to—” She waves her hand in the direction of the bed and understanding punches me in the gut. Dio , I’m a stronzo . Of course, she doesn’t want to lie in the bed where she was just attacked.
“Right,” I mutter, eyes cast down to the floor. Heaving out a breath, I move toward the adjoining door. “My bed then…” As I realize the insinuation, heat races up my neck, settling across my cheeks. Lifting my gaze, I find her wide-eyed one. “You can have my bed,” I quickly clarify.
She nods, the move faint but there all the same. She takes a step gingerly, testing her ankle and when it holds, she limps past me, leaving the crutches beside the bed where they lay untouched.
She’s wincing, and Dio every pucker of her lips is another stab of guilt. Before I can think of all the reasons why I shouldn’t, I sweep her off her feet and tuck her against my chest. “Let me help you,” I whisper.
She stiffens against me for only a second before she relaxes in my arms. A tear slips down her cheek as I walk the remaining steps into my bedroom, and that fury I tried so hard to bury returns full force.
This woman has been through hell because of me in the past few days. I reach the bed and gently lower her onto the mattress. She immediately curls up in the middle of the sprawling king, tucking the comforter under her chin. She doesn’t look at me again, keeping her gaze firmly pinned through the glass doors of the terrazzo and the rippling lake beyond.
“Would you like something to eat?” I whisper.
“No, I’m not hungry.” Still, her eyes refuse to meet mine.
“Okay, I’ll let you rest then.” I pivot toward the door, but the rustle of sheets swings my head back over my shoulder. Serena is sitting straight up, eyes glistening orbs of pure sapphire.
“Can you just stay for a little while?” She ticks her head to the foot of the bed. “In case Papà calls again or something. I don’t want to miss it.”
I nod slowly, understanding followed by another stab of guilt wrenching my insides. Of course she won’t admit she’s frightened to be alone. Dio , I’m the bastardo that left her by herself with Otto in the first place. This is all my fault.
Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, I watch her watching me. I can almost see her measuring the distance between us, too close or too far away? I can’t quite tell.
“Rest, tesoro ,” I whisper. “I will wake you if Dante calls.”
“Even if he doesn’t… I don’t want to sleep for too long, because then I’ll never get over this jet lag.”
“Your body needs rest after—” I snap my jaw shut when I see the pain encroaching into her features. “Just rest. I’ll be here.”
Nodding, she lies back down, curling into the down comforter so she’s on her side facing the lake again. I only hope the calming ripples of the Como will soothe the turmoil of the day. I watch her for what feels like an eternity, her eyes snapping open a moment after they close. Each time her eyes instinctively search to find mine. Once she’s convinced I’ve remained as promised, they close once again. Multiple times she repeats the torture until she finally gives up the battle, and her lids droop shut for good.
Thank Dio .
Once she’s asleep, I pull out my phone and shoot off a few messages to Pietro. Hopefully things in Roma are going better than here. I update him on the situation with Dante and warn him to remain on guard. Valentino isn’t stupid enough to try anything, not with his precious daughter in my hands.
Lifting my gaze from the screen to the sleeping mafia princess, I allow myself a minute to take her in. Without those darting eyes piercing through to my very soul, I can enjoy the soft pucker of her pink lips, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the tangle of blonde locks splayed across her pillow like a halo.
She’s beautiful when she sleeps… hell, she’s beautiful in the most unimaginably awful scenario, kidnapped and nearly raped.
Merda , what did I do?
I inch closer, my hand finding hers. It’s as cold as ice. Tangling my warm fingers through hers, I bend over her head and whisper, “Rest, tesoro. I swear I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” Her sweet strawberry scent reaches my nostrils, and I lean closer, brushing my lips across her forehead. “ Sogni d’oro .” Sweet dreams .
Soft footfalls tear me to the present, and my head spins over my shoulder. Mariuccia tiptoes into the room, carrying a mug of chamomile tea, the sweet fragrance immediately filling the space. “I thought she would be unable to sleep,” she whispers.
“It took her awhile, but the exhaustion won out.”
She motions to the chair in the corner. “I can stay with her so that you can handle your business .” She speaks the final word with so much contempt it’s like another punch to the gut.
“I’ve already handled it. A clean-up crew is on its way.”
“Still, I can stay?—”
“I said no,” I bark, the reply coming out harsher than intended. Drawing in a steadying breath, I face the woman who was like a second mother to me. “ Scusi . Serena isn’t the only one exhausted after the past few days. I appreciate the offer, but I will stay with her as I promised.”
“Oh.” A half-smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter.
“Like what, signore ?” Her eyes sparkle with delight as she sets the cup on the nightstand and turns toward the door.
My only response is a weary eyeroll.
She must see her opening and takes a chance, inching closer. “I know you, Antonio Ferrara.” She jabs a wrinkled finger into my chest. “And this is not you. There is still time to make it right. Take the girl back to her family.”
“I can’t,” I hiss. “Everything Papà built rests on this, on her…”
“Tonio, who cares? Who needs an empire if you don’t have real happiness, true love, or a big family to share it with?”
“You don’t understand, you simply can’t.” My fingers curl into fists. “I must do this for Papà .”
“Your father is dead, Tonio!” Those blazing orbs sear into my own as she regards me. “Ghosts don’t need empires either. It is only your pride and your thirst for revenge guiding you now.”
I bite my tongue, smothering the building anger, because I know I won’t win this argument. Mariuccia doesn’t know me, not the man I was forced to become. “It’s too late,” I finally murmur.
“It’s never too late, figlio mio .” With those final two words, my son , she whirls toward the door and steps out as quietly as she’d come in, her words lingering in the air for hours later.