10. Dante
TEN
Dante
I was an asshole.
An idiota .
An imbecile.
Jealousy had made me say cruel and hurtful things to Elysa.
When I reviewed our conversation and recalled how she shut down, shame crawled through me.
Nonno would be disappointed in me.
I was in a mood so foul that even Giulia, my assistant who usually told me to “ tranquillizzati ,” when I was being like this, was steering clear of me.
I didn’t blame her.
If I could crawl out of my skin, I would.
Even the sunlight streaming through the antique windows of my office felt like an affront.
It was too bright and cheerful, mocking me while I failed the test of decency in self-reflection.
I had barely touched my coffee, and my overflowing email inbox was left as is, which wasn’t how I normally worked.
Luca.
Cazzo .
He had been stuck in my head all night, taunting me.
I’d been jealous—no, furious—when I saw Elysa smiling at him, laughing with him like she hadn’t since she left me.
But the worst part?
I had no place to stand.
What had I given her to smile about lately?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
I’d spent the better part of the night after I left her, alternating between rage and shame, the latter creeping in as the hours stretched and the silence of my suite grew unbearable.
By the time I finally fell asleep, I knew one thing for certain: I had no one to blame but myself for the gran casino my life was.
The knock on my office door barely registered, and when I barked, “ Enter ,” Giulia came in, tablet in hand, looking pensive.
“ Buongiorno , Dante. You have thirty minutes before your next meeting, and I was hoping we could finalize the details for the event in Piedmont.”
Cazzo!
I’d forgotten about the event honoring Nonno, where he was posthumously being awarded the Ordine al Merito della Repubblica Italiana —the highest civilian honor in the country—for his contributions to the wine industry.
Nonno was to be celebrated in his hometown of Montefiore, Piedmont.
It was going to be a massive event, with government officials, industry leaders, and the Giordano company’s top brass in attendance.
This would be a perfect opportunity to showcase the family’s legacy and strengthen the company’s reputation .
I could hear Elysa’s tremulous words when, last night, she said, “ Dante, this was the last time, okay? No more. I can’t do more .”
Che cavolo!
She had to be there.
Her father would be part of the ceremony as he led the Consorzio del Vino di Piedmont, the regional wine consortium dedicated to protecting and promoting the excellence of Piedmont’s wines.
I ran a hand through my hair.
I still hadn’t done a damn thing with those divorce papers.
Actually, I had left them in my dresser in the flat, where I hadn’t been for…
what, six weeks now?
Cristo!
For a wife who I wanted to get rid of, she was putting me through a dance, wasn’t she?
And that’s when the thought struck: Maybe it’s because you don’t want to get rid of her .
What a ridiculous notion!
We weren’t suited.
Sure, for a little time, we could make it work, but not in the long run.
That required mutual understanding based on a common background, which Elysa and I didn’t have.
She was too New York, and I was completely Italian.
“What?” Giulia asked.
“Elysa will have to be there.”
“Of course,” Giulia agreed and then raised an eyebrow.
“Were you not planning on taking her?”
There was censure in her tone.
“What?”
Giulia looked at me like a mother would an errant child.
“Whatever is happening between you and Lucia is…well, it’s indecent. You’ve been married a year, and you’re already….” She sighed and added, “I didn’t expect that of you, Dante.”
“You think I’m having an affair with Lucia?”
Did she think I was that low?
Then, that stupid voice in my head that I was convinced was my conscience said, “But Dante, you do spend an enormous amount of your time with her. ”
“It’s work! I work with Lucia.”
“Yes, and so does everyone else,” she announced.
“I am not having an affair,” I stated as emphatically as I could through gritted teeth.
She shrugged.
“You won’t be the first or last wealthy man to have a mistress. I just…didn’t expect that from you.”
“I’m not having an affair,” I repeated.
She waved a hand.
“No matter. Yes, Elysa will have to be there. Vittorio Costa will be there, and it will…well, be awkward if your mistress is accompanying you instead of your wife…his daughter.”
I rubbed my temples.
I could feel a headache blossom.
“For the last time, Giulia, non ho un'amante .”
“It’s only a matter of time,” she muttered.
I ran a hand through my hair, wanting to tear some of it out due to frustration. “Giulia, have I given you an indication that I’m that kind of man?”
“Not until you got married,” she replied pointedly. “You have a beautiful, kind, big-hearted wife, and you’re running around with that ….” She shook her head in disgust.
“She’s a very capable lawyer,” I reminded my assistant.
“A capable lawyer she may be, Dante, but she’s not worth risking your marriage,” she declared and then picked up her tablet. “Shall we get to work?”
If Giulia had these many doubts about my moral standing and knew me well, I could only imagine what the rest of my staff was thinking about me.
“Before we get started on that, I’d like to understand why people think I’m having an affair with Lucia.”
Giulia smiled, all saccharine sweetness. “Maybe you should ask Lucia.”
“What’s that got to do with….” Realization struck and trailed off. “Are you saying that Lucia has been talking about us as a couple?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“Lucia would not do that.”
“If you insist,” Giulia said airily. “You know what Don Giordano used to say?”
I waited.
“We believe what is convenient, not what is true.”
Crediamo a ciò che ci fa comodo, non a ciò che è vero
“And what has that got to do with anything?”
“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself. Now, let’s get down to the event.”
Giulia started talking about all the preparations, but I listened with one ear as I formulated a plan to convince Elysa to attend the award ceremony.
Lucia, a senior executive at Giordano Hotel Group, was part of my leadership team, so she would be there. If Giulia was right, which she almost always was, Lucia’s presence combined with Elysa’s absence would only amplify the affair rumors.
If Elysa didn’t come with me, the questions wouldn’t just be whispered anymore—they’d be shouted.
Besides that, the idea of my wife not being by my side at an event like this, one that meant so much to my family and my company, made my stomach turn. But the deeper truth—the one I didn’t want to admit—was that I didn’t want her absence to become permanent.
How could I ask her to come, knowing how the Carrera charity event had gone? I’d treated her terribly because I let my insecurities get the best of me.
I had been angry, uncertain, and very jealous. Instead of facing that, I accused her of feeling the very same thing I couldn’t admit to myself. I had projected my weakness onto her.
I didn’t know how I’d convince her to give me another chance at another event. I only knew one thing for certain: I couldn’t picture receiving an award in Nonno’s name without Elysa by my side.
“Giulia, Elysa is asking for a divorce,” I confessed when my assistant started to ask questions about the guest list, assuming Elysa would be in Piedmont in four weeks.
The words felt foreign coming out of my mouth, like they didn’t belong to me, didn’t belong to my life. Saying them aloud made them real, and the bitterness of it was like swallowing glass.
Giulia gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “ Idiota !”
“You know I’m your boss, don’t you?” I reminded her dryly.
“You’re a horse’s ass, Signor Giordano,” she clipped. “What did you do?”
“Why do you think I did something?”
“Because she’s too much of a saint to do it.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she didn’t give me a chance.
“Elysa must come to Piedmont,” Giulia continued. “You’re not just honoring your grandfather. Don Giordano was her Nonno as well. Montefiore is her father’s village. Do you know what it’ll look like if she’s not there? Everyone will notice. Everyone will ask questions unless you’re planning to rush the divorce through before then. Are you?”
I clenched my jaw. “I…I haven’t even asked my lawyers to look at the papers. They’re in the flat. I haven’t looked at them properly, just skimmed….”
“Is this why you’ve been staying in the suite?” She was incredulous.
“ Si . I…miss her when I’m in the fl at.”
“I thought you were staying in the suite with her .”
Her, I presumed, was Lucia.
“No, Giulia.” I felt sadness envelop me.
What a mess I’d made of my life!
I wished Nonno were still here—then everything would be as it should be.
I had thought that when he died, I would finally be free. That without his expectations, his plans, his quiet but undeniable influence, I would be able to live life on my own terms.
But now I knew the truth. I had been free when he was alive. Because as much as he had guided, shaped, and pushed me, he had also been my anchor.
And without him, I was lost.
Giulia straightened, smoothing her skirt. “Figure it out, Dante.” She turned toward the door and threw over her shoulder, “Before you lose her for good.”
I pondered her parting words. Lose her for good.
The words gnawed at me, burrowing deep. Did I want to lose her? The answer came quickly and firmly, surprising me with its clarity.
No.
The idea of divorce didn’t appeal to me, not even slightly. I didn’t want to imagine a life where Elysa wasn’t there. But how could we go back to the easy days, the days when she used to look at me with affection, when we laughed together, when she was my peace?
This was all my fault. I knew that .
I’d been a fool to think I could just swap out one wife for another as if Elysa were replaceable. She wasn’t—not by Lucia, not by anyone.
I looked at the silver-framed photograph on my desk, which Giulia had given me as a post-wedding present. It was from our wedding. Elysa was smiling, hope shining in her eyes—an emotion I hadn’t seen in a long while.
And that’s when the truth crashed into me. I’d taken hope away from Elysa.
Too late, I realized that Elysa had given me something I didn’t even know I desperately needed: peace. A sense of home. And I’d taken it for granted, even called it boring . If it was that fucking boring, why did I make it a point to be home in the evenings when she wasn’t working?
I didn’t have a sensible answer to that beyond being foolish and bloody-minded about being forced into marriage with a lovely woman by my grandfather. Talk about an entitled asshole… si , that was me.