34. Thirty-Three
Thirty-Three
Sienna
T he overpowering, nauseating stench of alcohol clings to the air with an almost tangible weight, an oppressive force that churns my stomach and tightens my throat. It invades my senses like an unwelcome guest who refuses to leave, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The atmosphere is thick with an almost palpable, manic energy. Every now and then, it is punctuated by bursts of manic laughter that are shrill and relentless. Each bout of hysterical cackling slices through the air with increasing intensity, a cacophonous crescendo that builds until it drowns out even the sharp, jarring bark of gunfire.
Panic strikes me like a lightning bolt, seizing my body in an unyielding grip. My mind races, thoughts colliding in a chaotic frenzy, yet my body remains frozen, a prisoner to my own terror. I try to scream, to release the pent-up fear and tension, but my voice betrays me; my mouth opens, yet no sound emerges. My entire being trembles violently, but I am paralyzed, rooted to the spot, as if the floor itself has transformed into quicksand, holding me captive. The rapid, frantic thrum of my heart pounding in my chest is a deafening drumbeat in my ears, a relentless rhythm that threatens to drown out all rational thought. Each heartbeat is a visceral reminder of my vulnerability, a wild staccato that only slows when I feel strong, muscular arms wrapping around me.
The warmth of a body pressing against mine offers an anchor, a lifeline in the storm of my panic. A deep, soothing voice begins to murmur soft, indistinct words of comfort, a gentle lullaby attempting to coax me back into the sanctuary of sleep. I toss and turn, caught in the turbulent throes of awakening. My mind is a battlefield of shadows, haunted by visions of darkness and a faceless menace that stalks my thoughts. Each shadow is a specter of my fears, lurking at the edges of my consciousness. I jolt awake, my eyes blinking rapidly against the harsh light of reality, still gripped by the icy fingers of panic.
The transition from nightmare to wakefulness is jarring, a violent upheaval that leaves me disoriented and breathless. I sit upright in bed, clutching the comforter for support as I survey the unfamiliar room around me. My breath comes in shallow gasps, my chest heaving with the effort.
For a moment, confusion reigns—where am I? What happened? The questions swirl in my mind, a maelstrom of uncertainty.
A more familiar, comforting scent reaches my nose, grounding me. The fog of fear begins to lift as I recognize the surroundings.
I am in Fabrizio’s bed, and the realization brings a wave of calm washing over me. His side of the bed is rumpled but empty, his intoxicating scent lingering on the sheets, a reminder of his presence. The scent is a balm to my frayed nerves, a silent promise of safety and warmth. I allow myself to sink back into the mattress, exhaling a deep sigh of relief as the last vestiges of fear dissipate. The comforting feeling of home envelops me, and my body begins to relax. The tension drains away, each muscle releasing its rigid grip. Soon, the gentle embrace of sleep claims me once more, this time peaceful and undisturbed. My dreams are softened by the knowledge that I am safe, wrapped in the memory of Fabrizio’s embrace.
The twins’ high-pitched giggles and the energetic pitter-patter of their small feet reverberate through the house as I descend the staircase. I round the corner and step into the kitchen. The sight of them fills me with an indescribable warmth, a sensation that words can scarcely capture. A quick glance at the clock reveals that I have slept through a significant portion of the day; it’s already nearly 3 pm. The faint, lingering aroma of tomato sauce hints at the lunch they must have enjoyed earlier.
“Sienna!” Maddy’s enthusiastic exclamation draws my attention, and I notice the two men standing at the kitchen counter turn to face me. One of them is unfamiliar, but his striking resemblance to Fabrizio immediately catches my eye. I quickly surmise that he must be one of Fabrizio’s brothers. His faint, curious smile seems to hold a thousand unspoken words, acknowledging me without intrusion.
Maddy sprints toward me with outstretched arms, her face illuminated with pure joy. I crouch down to meet her, sinking to my knees and opening my arms wide. She lunges at me, wrapping her tiny arms around my neck. “You’re back,” she says, her voice brimming with uncontainable happiness. I press my lips to her cheek, eliciting a delightful giggle. “I missed you,” she says earnestly, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. The raw emotion in her voice touches me deeply, reminding me of the powerful bond we share.
“I missed you too, sweetheart,” I reply, my heart swelling with affection. It’s in these moments that I realize the profound impact we have on each other’s lives and the responsibility that comes with it.
“Uncle Marcello is taking us to the playground today.” In an instant, Maddy’s carefree nature resurfaces, and she excitedly shares her afternoon plans. I can’t help but wonder if growing up in a loving family like hers makes it easier for her to cope with certain situations, or if Fabrizio has managed to shield his children from the harsh realities of life so effectively that they remain blissfully unaware of them.
Her uncle interrupts her excited chatter by taking her hand. “Now, let’s go and give Ms. Walsh some time to herself,” he says kindly. Maddy waves goodbye to me before following Marcello outside, her steps light and full of anticipation.
Flynn, however, stays behind, standing hesitantly between me and his father. A deep frown mars his usually cheerful face as he slowly, almost reluctantly, approaches me. I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but before I can speak, he reaches me, wrapping his small arms around my legs and squeezing tightly. As I lower myself to his level, he throws his arms around my neck and buries his head in the crook of my shoulder.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask gently, stroking his back as I feel his tears wetting my skin. The sensation sends a wave of concern through me, and I hold him a little tighter, hoping to provide the comfort he so desperately needs.
“I was scared,” he admits, his voice trembling with vulnerability.
“You have no reason to be scared,” I assure him softly, trying to infuse my voice with as much comfort as possible.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he sniffs, “just like my mummy.” His words pierce my heart, and I wrap my arms around him even tighter, pulling him close. It takes all my strength not to break down right then and there.
“I am here,” I tell him firmly, “and I am not going anywhere.” I mean every word, yet a deep sadness tugs at my heartstrings. The weight of my promise feels heavy.
Flynn lets go of me just enough to look into my eyes. “You promise?” he asks, his voice fragile and filled with hope.
“I promise,” I say, smiling at him with as much reassurance as I can muster. “Now go and have a fun day. When you come back home, I’ll be right here.” The words feel like a vow, one that I am committed to upholding.
“Okay,” he sniffs before hugging me once more. Reluctantly, Flynn lets go of me and follows his uncle and sister outside.
For a few moments, I remain crouched down, attempting to gather my composure before facing Fabrizio, who has stayed motionless and silent throughout my entire exchange with his children. The weight of the situation feels almost unbearable, like an invisible burden pressing down on my shoulders. I take a deep breath, and with considerable effort, push myself up into a standing position. My knees tremble and slightly buckle beneath me due to the emotional strain, making the simple act of standing seem like a monumental task. Quickly, I swipe away the lingering tears from my face, my fingers trembling as they brush against my damp cheeks. Only then do I dare to look at him.
Fabrizio stands a few paces away, slowly, he begins to move, closing the distance between us with deliberate, measured steps. His eyes reflect a tumultuous mixture of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion, and something else I can’t quite place. It’s as if a storm is raging behind those eyes, a storm that threatens to consume us both.
As he approaches, the intensity of his gaze becomes almost unbearable. His jaw is set tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and the tortured look on his face makes my insides churn with anxiety. I feel a lump form in my throat, and I struggle to swallow past it, my breath hitching in my chest. The anticipation of what he might say or do next is almost too much to bear.
Finally, Fabrizio reaches me and cups my face with both hands, his touch surprisingly gentle and tender. His fingers are warm against my skin, and I can’t help but gasp for air, overwhelmed by the raw emotion in his eyes. The world seems to narrow down to just the two of us,
All that truly matters now is the love we’ve finally come to recognize. As our kiss deepens, the world around us fades away. His arms enfold me with a tenderness that belies the strength within them, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. I melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body seep into mine, grounding me in this reality that feels almost too perfect to be true. The connection we share is profound, as if our souls are intertwining, finding comfort and solace in each other. It’s a feeling of completeness, of discovering the missing piece that makes everything whole. When we finally pull apart, breathless from the intensity of the kiss, our foreheads rest against each other.
“I’ve been so fucking afraid,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Afraid of losing you. I might have said I wouldn’t hold onto you, but I can’t let you go.”
“I have no intention of going anywhere,” I reply.
“But I can’t promise that I can be everything you need and deserve,” he states. The weight of the moment settles over us like a gentle blanket, wrapping us in its significance. Fabrizio’s eyes, softened by his confession, search mine for reassurance, for a promise I feel deep within my bones. I open my mouth, but no words come out; instead, he continues to speak. His voice is a quiet murmur, heavy with sorrow.
“I’m sorry, cuore mio, ” he whispers, his breath hitching slightly. “I apologize for putting your life in danger.” I reach out instinctively, my fingers trembling as they touch his cheek. The rough stubble of his dark beard tickles my palm, a familiar sensation that offers strange comfort.
“There’s nothing you need to be sorry about,” I say softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. He leans back, creating a slight distance between us, his gaze locking onto mine. The softness in his eyes vanishes, replaced by the stern, unyielding look he often wears.
“After everything that’s happened since I laid eyes on you, you should know there’s a lot I should be sorry for.” His words hang heavily in the air, a testament to the guilt he carries. Each syllable seems to press down on my chest, making it harder to breathe. He falls silent, waiting for me to voice the questions that burn on my tongue. My heart races with nervous anticipation, knowing there’s no turning back, no way to unhear what he will say next.
“What Nicole said… I don’t believe it,” I begin, my voice trembling slightly.
The uncertainty in my tone betrays my inner turmoil. “No matter what she said or what you might say, I refuse to believe you’re a bad person.”
His response is a bitter chuckle, a sound that echoes with a mix of amusement and resignation. “Don’t be naive,” he retorts, his eyes narrowing. “Even before you met me, you knew who I was. You were well aware of the kind of business my family is involved in. While my brothers and I are fastidious about legalizing most of our business, some of the old ways still stand, and they will continue to do so.”
I struggle to process his words, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. The reality of his world, so different from mine, begins to sink in, each revelation a sharp jab to my understanding of who he is. “So, what happened to…?” I trail off, unable to finish the question. The enormity of his world, fraught with dangers and moral ambiguities, looms over me.
“Luca Vitarelli,” Fabrizio supplies, his tone grim and unyielding. “His father had tried for years to overpower my father but never succeeded. Luca thought he could accomplish what his father couldn’t, causing a lot of destruction along the way. But I won’t make excuses. Luca was a massive problem that had to be dealt with. So, yes, I killed him.” The bluntness of his admission hits me like a punch to the gut. Although Fabrizio had previously told me he had killed before, it’s a concept my brain refuses to accept. The idea of him taking a life is something I struggle to reconcile with.
“And you didn’t know about Nicole,” I state more than ask, trying desperately to piece together the fragments of this dark puzzle.
“I neither knew he had a fiancée nor that she was pregnant,” he admits, his jaw tightening as he lowers his gaze. His eyes, usually so piercing, now seem distant, clouded with regret. “I won’t lie to you—if I’d known, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome.”
I nod, unable to find the right words to respond. The gravity of his confession leaves me speechless, each word etching itself into my consciousness. ”There’s something… I don’t understand. I wanted to ask you,” I say hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the question lingers in the air between us, a silent tension that neither of us can ignore. He looks pensive as he nods, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that reflects the gravity of the topic. We both know this won’t be easy for him to discuss.
“Did Nicole really send her sister after you?” The question hangs heavy in the air, a silent echo that reverberates between us like a distant thunderclap. The room seems to shrink around us, drawing us into an intimate space where only the truth can reside. Fabrizio throws his head back and sighs deeply before speaking. His expression is a complex tapestry of pain and resignation.
“I only have her word for it, but yes, I believe her,” he says, his voice tinged with a mixture of bitterness and sorrow. “Nicole thought she had a perfect plan when she set her sister up to get close to me and, well, exchange places with Lexi after some time to kill me herself.” His words cut through the air, each one a reminder of the betrayal he still grapples with. He lets out a humorless chuckle, a sound devoid of joy. “Only, Lexi really fell in love, and it wasn’t long before we had the twins on the way.” His voice softens as he mentions the twins.
“So, she killed her own sister just to hurt you?” I ask, my voice trembling with disbelief. A haze of sadness crosses his face, shadowing his features with a melancholy that seems almost tangible.
“To show me exactly how she felt. Losing the life she led, the man she loved, and the unborn child she lost,” he states, his voice heavy with the weight of his memories. The enormity of Nicole’s actions is almost too much to comprehend. Even after hearing his words, every fiber of my being refuses to feel sorry for her. The magnitude of Nicole’s actions is beyond the realm of forgiveness.
“I am so sorry. The woman is truly evil,” I say, my voice firm with conviction.
“The thing with evil is that there are all kinds of different forms of it,” he replies, his tone contemplative as if he’s pondering the very nature of morality itself. His words resonate with me, prompting a realization that we all carry at least a sliver of darkness within us. Or perhaps, I am beginning to construct my own moral compass, a personal scale of good and evil that aligns with my worldview. And maybe, just maybe, I am not such a good girl after all. A chuckle slips past my lips at the thought, the idea of moral ambiguity strangely liberating. I am certainly no longer afraid of Fabrizio. The fear I once felt now seems like an alien concept, a distant memory that holds no power over me. The only thing I am afraid of now is losing the rest of my heart to the man I’ve desperately fallen in love with. The times of trying to rationalize my ability to fall for a man as dangerous and complicated as Fabrizio are long gone, and I can no longer lie to myself.
“Come here,” he whispers, his voice a gentle command. Everything bad that happened recently fades into the background, forgotten in the safe embrace of Fabrizio’s arms. As soon as I feel his body against mine, the tension in my muscles dissipates, replaced by a profound sense of safety and contentment. Here, in his arms, is where I find my solace, my home.