2. Massimo
Chapter 2
Massimo
I can't believe she's here. Why the hell would she risk coming back? Returning after the exile is a death wish. Is that what she wants? For me to kill her and end her misery? How selfish of her to put that on me. It was hard enough being the one to announce her exile - the exile of a woman I was in love with. It tore me apart. And now she's back, forcing me to act against her all over again.
I march away from them, back into the stifling warmth of the house. The air feels thick, and suffocating, as though the atmosphere has tripled in weight. I need to breathe, but my lungs refuse to cooperate. I'm dizzy with rage, crushed under the weight of seeing her again. My mind spins, and my body feels like it's caving in, overwhelmed by the fury and confusion she's reignited.
I walk straight out into the snowy landscape of the garden.
Standing on the edge of the patio I take several deep breaths. My breath steams from my lips in heavy puffs of smoke against the cold air.
Minute white flakes of ice fall from the sky, drifting past my vision, blurring in and out of focus. Some land delicately on my eyelashes, cold and fleeting.
I hold out my hand, catching the tiny flakes, but they vanish the moment they touch my skin. Love is like that—disappearing as soon as you try to hold onto it. I fell in love with Vera all those years ago, but she wasn't real. She wasn't the woman I thought she was.
It shattered me when she betrayed my family. She betrayed me. Selling intimate family secrets to our enemies put everyone I cared about at risk. I had no choice but to exile her. I couldn't let it slide.
But I was already in a dark place—our son had been stillborn, and my world fell apart. Everything I loved was ripped out from under me.
After Vera, I met my wife. She pulled me out of the darkness, and I loved her in a very different way. She was my world, and she gave me our daughter. But when I lost her in a car accident—around this time, two years ago-- I was destroyed all over again.
Things like that change you. They force you to switch off certain aspects of yourself, to grow harder and colder against the cruelty of the world.
I stare down at my hand, at the small drops of water left on my skin where the snowflakes touched me.
Coldness.
After my wife's death, I was left a single parent -- alone. But my daughter forced me to stand up and block out the pain. I had to be a father. I had responsibilities.
I take another deep breath of ice-cold air, letting it seep into my lungs and make me focus on my physical body instead of my heart which is beating too fast.
My love for my wife and my love for Vera - they were two different things.
My wife was safe, warm, and comforting. She was a steady, stable future for my daughter-- a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart.
Vera was passionate, wild, spontaneous, and full of laughter and endless love. She made me feel things I never thought were possible. She set my life on fire. And in the end, she burned it to the ground with her treason.
Now she is back—looking even more incredible. The years have only made her more alluring, more refined. The light in her eyes seems to burn brighter.
"Fuck." I mutter angrily.
I have so much to do, so many things that need my attention at this time of year - and my daughter and I struggle the most over the holidays because that is when we lost her mother. I don't have time to deal with Vera now.
Why the fuck is she here?
"Massimo?" My brother's voice drags me from my thoughts, a relief I need. I could have been spiraling into darkness out here alone.
"Adrian." I sigh and turn to face him, running my hand through my hair. "What the fuck is going on?"
"She claims she has proof that someone framed her. She says she didn't do it. But I don't fucking trust her at all and I don't think you should either. She could be planted here. A spy maybe?" He shrugs. "What do you want to do with her?"
"Right now - nothing. I need to think about it a little. Let's just focus on getting the place ready. Our family will be arriving over the next few days, and I want everything in order. She can't be a distraction." I clench my jaw, knowing that she already is. My thoughts are consumed by her—memories of us together. The way she'd pull her long, dark hair over her shoulder and tilt those teasing eyes at me, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. And the way her back arched when she pressed her body against mine, every curve seared into my mind.
Fuck.
"Leave her there. Is she secured?"
"Yes, she's not going anywhere."
"Take her some food later - and a blanket. Don't let her freeze to death before I've had a chance to speak to her." I shake my head in disbelief. I can't believe this is happening now. Adrian nods. "I'll keep her alive, but honestly, I think we should throw her to the wolves. Barefoot. She can fight her way through the snow, and we can let nature deal with this little issue."
I shake my head. "Not yet." I sigh.
I walk off the cold patio and into the lodge. As soon as I step through the doors, a wall of heat embraces me, and I shudder at the welcoming warmth. I need to get this place ready - and not think about her .
But over the next few hours, as the night grows darker and the house quiets down, she is all I can think about.
I reach over the pink princess bed and tuck my daughter in. Bella should have been asleep hours ago - but she came looking for me again.
"Why aren't you asleep yet, little one?" I ask my daughter, who has been up and down all night despite me putting her to bed several times already.
"I see'd the snow." She smiles, pointing at the window.
"Yes, my angel. But you need to sleep now. You can see the snow tomorrow."
"Dada, is mommy a angel?"
My heart pinches in my chest. I never want to stop her from asking about her mother, but it's so difficult for me to talk about her.
"She is an angel. She watches over you all the time." I brush a dark blonde curl away from her eyes and pull the blankets up around her chin. "Mommy is watching and she's going to tell Santa Clause if you are good or not. And then what happens?"
She giggles.
"Good girl get pessints."
She wiggles into the blankets and I smile down at her. "Good girls get presents. That's right." I lean down and kiss her forehead. "Go to sleep, Bella. We can explore all over tomorrow and make Gingerman cookies, and when everyone arrives we can put up all the decorations."
"Yay." She squeals, then snuggles her face against the pillow. Bella closes her eyes, and I stroke my hand across her cheek. "Good night, little angel," I whisper.
When I leave her room my intention is to go to my own and get some much-needed sleep. But instead, I find myself walking towards the cellar door.
Resting my hand on the heavy, ornate iron handle I pause for a moment. I shouldn't do this.
Then I push it open and walk downstairs, towards the thick wooden doors of the cellar lock up.
I unlock them and push them open.
Vera is curled up on the bed with a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
It's freezing in here. Cold enough that I can see my breath when I sigh.
"Massimo?" her voice is soft and gentle. It tugs at my heart.
"Why are you here, Vera?" I demand sharply.
"I had to talk to you. Please, Massimo. I've been trying for years to prove that I didn't do what I was accused of. Someone framed me. I need to…"
"Are you fucking joking? You come here, during Christmas, to start this shit. You should be dead for what you did. I shouldn't have exiled you. I should have erased you. I showed mercy. Now you dare to come back and - what? What the fuck are you hoping to achieve Vera? I want nothing to do with you."
She cringes at my words. Tears streaked down her cheeks.
"Our child. "
"Don't you fucking dare talk about the son I lost," I snarl, darker than ever.
"I think the doctors lied to us. I don't think he was stillborn. I think someone took him." She blurts out, speaking fast with so much emotion in her voice that I struggle to hear her clearly.
"You are telling me you think he is alive?" I say, stunned.
"Yes." She whispers.
"How certain are you?"
"I'm not certain. But how can I ignore it even if there is just a chance of it being true."
For a moment, I can't think. My head is spinning.
My child—our baby with Vera. The one we never got to hold, never touched, never even saw. They rushed him away the moment he was born, an emergency.
The baby we thought we lost at birth. And now she's trying to tell me he's alive? After all these years, he's been alive?"
"This is a sick fucking way to get my attention, Vera. We buried our son. We put him to rest in the ground." I growl darkly.
"Massimo, you know I wouldn't say this if I didn't believe it. I wouldn't do that to you or myself. I honestly think he's still alive. We never even saw his body. We buried a box. I should have asked to hold him; I should have asked to see him - even though - I should have just asked." She is crying harder now, and I can see she believes what she is saying. But how can I trust her?
I take a step away from her. This is too much .
My son would be six this year. Six years of not knowing his father.
Six years of being where? With who?
I can't do this.
Walking out of the cellar I hear her call my name, but I can't deal with this or her.
I have to think.