14. Elysa
FOURTEEN
Elysa
S eeing your husband—the man you loved yet had asked for a divorce—talk and laugh with the woman he wished would be his wife was its own special kind of torture.
The Frecciarossa train hummed beneath us, gliding smoothly through the Italian countryside.
Golden fields and olive groves blurred in the distance.
Dante, Lucia, and a couple of others from the Giordano Hotel Group were seated in the row ahead of me.
They were in one of those compartments with facing benches and a shared table between them.
Dante and Lucia sat on one side, while two of his employees sat directly across from them.
Between them, the table was cluttered with tablets and documents, and their laptop screens were open and pinging away.
Lucia said something that made Dante laugh.
The sound was low and familiar, a sound that I used to struggle to get out of him.
She got it for free, just like that.
Puttana !
I sat stiffly in my seat, staring out the window, trying to pretend it wasn’t bothering me.
But it did.
It really did.
I clenched my jaw, biting back the rising anger and the sting of betrayal.
Lucia was practically draping herself over Dante, her perfectly manicured nails tapping on the screen as she pointed something out.
They were working, or at least that’s what I told myself, but the intimacy of their proximity felt like a slap in the face.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come.
Maybe I should have told him to handle this Giordano family legacy event on his own.
But I hadn’t done that because this was for Don Giordano, the man who’d given me a family when I had none.
Besides, my father would be there, and avoiding him forever wasn’t an option, no matter how much I wanted it to.
Sooner or later, I’d have to tell him that Dante and I were separated, officially , since I’d moved out, and we’d be getting divorced soon.
That would not go well with Vittorio Costa.
“Want a caffè ?” Giulia broke through my spiraling thoughts.
I looked up to see Dante’s assistant, sliding into the seat next to me with two paper coffee cups in hand.
She slid one to me.
“ Grazie , Giulia.” I took a sip of the coffee, which she’d made sure was the way I liked it, with milk.
Dante drank his black, but it was too bitter for me early in the morning.
I wanted the caffeine to wake me up gently, not smack me on my face.
I liked Giulia.
Of all the people in Dante’s circle, she was the one who’d been most welcoming.
Sure, Dante’s friends and other colleagues were polite and friendly, even Lucia, but only Giulia had become a sort of friend.
I knew from what I’d seen and heard from Dante, she was sharp, efficient, and always three steps ahead of my husband, which was why he relied on her so much.
“It’s a lovely day,” I mused.
Giulia looked around to see if anyone was nearby.
Dante had booked an entire car for the Giordano Hotel Group team, which was going to Piedmont for the event.
Since they were all here for the three-and-a-half-hour train journey, he’d also booked a team meeting to take advantage of the time.
No rest for the wicked!
“Is it?” Giulia arched an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Dante told me.”
I could guess what he told her, but I also knew he was intensely private and didn’t share things with people, which was why his telling Dean about his feelings had been so jarring.
I knew they were close friends, which made me more certain of the truth behind Dante’s words.
“I don’t understand why you’d divorce him,” she admonished quietly so no one could hear us, and I doubted anyone could, over the noise of the train.
“I…I….” I gave up and drank some coffee.
“You know, I’ve worked for Dante for years. I’ve seen him at his best and his worst. But I’ve never seen him as distracted as he is now.”
Before I could answer, Dante laughed again—like with all teeth and sound, at something someone said, probably Lucia.
She put a hand on his arm, and he leaned a little to hear her, nodding as she spoke.
If he’s distracted it’s probably because he wants to fuck Lucia…
or he already is.
“Dante is focused to a fault,” I quipped.
“Usually, he is, but he isn’t now.” Her eyes darted to where Lucia and Dante were huddled together.
“And I don’t mean by work. He’s not himself, Elysa. He hasn’t been for weeks…since, I think, you left.”
I made a face.
“I doubt it very much.” I couldn’t tell her what I’d overheard him say to Dean because Dante would not appreciate it.
But I was tempted to, so she’d not try this nonsense and maybe validate how I was feeling because Dante hadn’t.
Instead, he behaved like it was my fault I overheard him, and I should get over it.
“You know why Don Giordano had to raise Dante? ”
I nodded.
Don Giordano had told me when he asked me to take care of his grandson by marrying him.
“He hasn’t known love…with me, there is love, but he spent too many of his formative years being ignored by his parents. So, you have to teach him, Elysa, to love and be loved.”
Giulia’s expression was earnest.
“You’re good for him. Better than you realize. I know things seem difficult right now, but you shouldn’t give up on him. On your marriage.”
I let out a bitter laugh before I could stop myself.
Several eyes turned to look at me, even Dante’s.
He raised his chin in inquiry, and I shook my head and mouthed, “ Nothing .”
He looked at me for a moment longer before Lucia took his attention away from me.
Story of my marriage!
“Giulia, you don’t understand. I already told Dante he could move on. And trust me, he has.” My eyes flicked pointedly to Lucia.
I knew I shouldn’t be so blatant about Dante having an affair, but God, how I hated the role of the little wife who was tolerating the inevitable sexy mistress.
Giulia hesitated, her gaze softening.
“He’d never cheat on you. I know that man in and out, and his integrity won’t let him.”
“But what if he wants to?” I asked, my eyes filling with emotion.
“What if he wants another woman, and he’s admitted to it? Then what?”
“Then, he’s an idiota who is afraid of how he feels about his wife. Wouldn’t be the first idiota to do that,” she claimed.
I looked back out the window, the countryside a blur of greens and golds.
“You know who raised me?”
Giulia didn’t say anything, but I could see her reflection in the window as she waited.
I didn’t look at her because if I did, I’d erupt into tears and make a scene.
"No one raised me. I had to raise myself." The word tumbled out of me, maybe because I wanted someone from my husband’s world to understand me .
Dante hadn’t bothered; maybe Giulia would.
“Nonno was in Italy, too far away to do much, and then…he was gone. My father? You know he never even visited me in New York. After my parents divorced, I only spent two summers in Italy when I was six and seven, and after that, I didn’t see him again until…the wedding.”
Giulia made a sound of disgust, directed at Papa.
“This is shameful behavior from a father. What about your mother?”
I shrugged.
“She doesn’t like me because of my values—meaning, I’m not a nun.”
Giulia shook her head and looked at me with kind eyes.
“The only person who ever kept in touch was Don Giordano.” I smiled thinking about the man who’d been my grandfather’s friend and had become mine.
“He visited me in New York, took me out to dinner, came over so I could cook for him. I saw him at least a few times every year—the one constant in a life where everyone else disappeared.”
“He was very fond of you,” Giulia said tenderly.
"Yes, and I’m so grateful. The only time someone truly wanted me, Giulia, was when Don Giordano asked me to marry his grandson. I couldn’t say no to him. He made me feel like I belonged, like I was family, and..." I felt the sting of tears welling up before I could stop them.
I missed him so much.
The grief of losing him was still raw, still fresh, an ache that hadn’t dulled with time.
Giulia held my hand and squeezed.
“Dante doesn’t want me,” I whispered in despair.
“I deserve to be wanted, to be loved, to be…first for my own husband, don’t I?”
Giulia sniffled, and I felt horrible that I’d made her sad.
“You’re both damaged people who can heal each other. I think you did heal him, and he’s only now realizing it, and I think he’s also…learning that he didn’t give back to you.”
I shrugged.
“I can’t wait for him to learn or grow up. I can’t take that chance. Being with him when he wants someone else is just too painful.”
“Because you love him,” she stated.
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“I love him very much.”
Giulia slid an arm around me.
“It’s going to be alright. I just know it. ”
If she’d been with me an hour later in the train’s viewing car when Lucia came to speak with me, Giulia would have found out how wrong she was.
The train’s viewing car was nearly empty, and the glass ceiling arching overhead showcased the sprawling hills of Piedmont.
It was stunning, truly, and for a moment, I let myself soak in its beauty.
The vineyards stretched endlessly, rows of grapevines crisscrossing the land like veins.
This was my place of birth, but I didn’t know it well.
My memories of coming here were hazy, as I was relatively young.
I did remember how I was left to fend for myself and spent a lot of time in the kitchen with the housekeeper who’d taught me how to cook.
She’d been my first teacher.
I’d also spent time in the wine cellar with one of my father’s employees, who’d allowed me my first taste of wine.
Maybe my romance with food and wine began then.
Once the divorce was finalized, I decided, I would travel.
I’d visit wine country around Italy and meet winemakers.
The distributors I worked with had suggested that, but whenever I planned something, I’d have to cancel because Dante needed me to attend an event with him.
So, I stopped making plans.
But now I could.
Well, that was something to look forward to in the bleak days after Dante signed the papers, and I had to imagine him with Lucia .
I took a calming breath when I heard someone call out my name.
Speak of the devil!
“Elysa.” Lucia’s tone was sweet and light, like everything about her didn’t shred me to pieces.
“I was hoping I’d run into you.”
I forced a neutral expression onto my face.
“Lucia. How are you?”
She smiled, all teeth, and stepped closer, her silver stilettos clicking softly against the floor.
“I’m fantastic. How about you? I know you were close to Dante’s Nonno.”
“Grief is a process,” I replied.
“Dante is struggling as well.” She sat down across from me.
“We were having dinner a couple of nights ago, and he wouldn’t drink the wine. I asked him why, and he said it was his Nonno’s favorite vintage.” She made a tsk-tsk sound.
“It breaks my heart to see him so devastated.”
I had no words because they were drowning in silent tears.
They were already together.
Having dinner, drinking wine.
Did they sleep in our bed in the master bedroom?
Oh God!
I couldn’t stand the idea.
I just couldn’t stand it.
“And the other morning”—she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“he had his grandfather’s tie around his neck, and I had to help him tie it. He was so emotional.”
Okay, so I was only twenty-five to this woman’s thirty-one.
She was more experienced and sophisticated.
But I grew up in Brooklyn, and I knew when a woman had thrown down the gauntlet and pissed around her man, telling me what was what.
I made a noncommittal sound in acknowledgment.
She looked out of the window.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She smiled at me, but her eyes glittered.
Yeah, she wasn’t here to chit-chat; she was here to tell me that my husband was now hers .
Well, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how much her words hurt me.
“I just wanted to say how grateful I am for how... gracefully you’ve handled everything.” Her English was impeccable, even though she had a slight accent.
But the truth was that she spoke better English than I did Italian.
I knew she also spoke Spanish and French like Dante.
Match made in language heaven?
I tilted my head, pretending I didn’t know exactly what she meant.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh, you know.” She waved a hand airily.
“The divorce, stepping back, letting Dante find his…happiness. It can’t be easy, and I admire your strength.”
My stomach turned, but I kept my expression impassive.
He’d told her about the divorce.
It felt like a betrayal, sharp and acrid.
But of course, he had.
He probably also told her that they could now be together since I’d started the process.
“Born and raised in Brooklyn! We’re known for our strength,” I quipped as if I didn’t have a care in the world.
She made an assenting sound, and then her smile widened into a smug grin.
“It just feels so right, you know? Dante and me. We understand each other. We always have. I think we just needed time to find our way back.”
Well, that was blunt and direct.
And for the love of everything holy, was she seriously acting like their relationship was some kind of fated love story?
Darling, from one delusional fool to another, Dante isn’t the kind of man who falls in love.
Or was he?
And he was in love with Lucia.
Stop this line of thought before you have a nervous breakdown, Elysa.
Not now.
Not here.
Save it for later.
"You know, this isn’t a discussion we should be having." My words dripped with feigned amusement.
"Dante and I are still very much married."
“But not for long.” Her eyes flashed with anger.
“Tomorrow is not here, darling, and yesterday is over. Today is where we’re at, and today, Dante and I are married.” I wriggled my fingers so she could see my rings.
He’d asked me to put them back on for this trip, and I was so glad I had because the facade of pleasant kindness falling from her face was epic.
“Tomorrow will be here soon enough.” She stood up, and just then, the train jerked, and she landed right back on her ass.
I didn’t bother to stifle the giggle that escaped me.
“Whatever you say, darling .” I arched an eyebrow and smiled.
It was saccharine sweet sarcasm.
“Now, why don’t you trot back to my husband and do the job he’s hired you for instead of talking inappropriately and unprofessionally about your boss with his wife ?”
She gave me a vicious look, turned on her heel, and walked away, thankfully before she could see the cracks forming in my composure.
I was seething as I walked out of the car half an hour later and all but collided with a large person who smelled like my cheating son of a bitch husband.
“Elysa, I was just looking for you?—”
“Save it,” I snapped, more sharply than I intended.
His brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I repeated, angrily.
“Your mistress just told me how thrilled she is that I’ve stepped aside so you two can get back together. That’s what’s wrong.”
His expression darkened.
“Lucia said what?”
“We’re still married, and you dragged me here to play your wife, so the least you can do is show some goddamn respect.” The train jerked again, and I ended up with my palms against his chest and his hands around my waist, holding me.
“Elysa—”
“You told her about the divorce? You told her ?” I cut him off, furious.
“No.” He put his hands on mine.
“Look at me.”
I did, anger frothing inside me.
“I didn’t tell her. She apparently heard from the…Roman gossip tree that you were seen at Carmen DeLuca’s office.”
“What bullshit?” I sneered.
“Bull fucking shit.”
Dante sighed.
“You are a little lioness, aren’t you?”
“Stop treating me like an imbecile. I haven’t been to Carmen’s office. I met her at Maura’s place. I didn’t even see her at the bistro to avoid any gossip. So, the only way she could find out is through you.” The train lurched again, and I fell against Dante.
He hugged me close, and I felt his chin nuzzle my hair.
“I didn’t tell her. I’ve only told one person, and that’s Giulia.” His mouth was close to my ear, and I wanted to just stay in his arms and cry for hours.
The stress of losing Don Giordano and Dante was too much.
“You’ve told your lawyers?” I pointed out.
He pulled away, and my hands dropped from his body.
He was too tempting.
The rat bastard.
“I’m not cheating on my marriage vows. I’d never do that.”
“But you told her that you want to get together with her.” I was close to giving into tears.
Two of his employees approached us, and immediately, we were both all smiles.
I hated pretending—I absolutely hated it.
Dante put an arm around me.
“Come on. Let’s find a private place for?—”
“I’d rather jump off this train.”
Dante grabbed my hand and opened a door.
It was the bathroom, and he pushed me inside and locked the sliding door.
Since this was a first-class compartment, the bathroom wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t spacious either.
“First.” He held his hand up when I opened my mouth.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Excu—”
“Elysa, you will listen to me.”
I gave him a mutinous look and folded my arms, feeling like an idiot for being trapped in a train bathroom with him.
“I’m not sleeping with Lucia. I didn’t tell her about the divorce, but I will find out how she knew. I never told her I wanted to be with her because I don’t. Now, about what she said to you, are you sure you didn’t misunderstand?”
I glared at him.
“Oh, you mean like when Patrizia called me a fat cow?”
“ Cristo , Elysa, let’s focus on one of my fuck ups at a time.”
He looked so annoyed and what he said was so not like him that I shut the hell up.
“I don’t understand why Lucia would talk to you about these things. There’s no reason for her to do that.”
God!
Men were so stupid.
It wasn’t just in the movies.
In reality, they were as dumb as doorknobs.
“Really? She doesn’t know how you feel about her?” I mocked .
Dante gave me a look that would make a lesser person shrivel.
I pretended it didn’t.
“I’ve never been inappropriate with her. What you heard me say to Dean was said…” He ran a hand through his hair.
“I can’t remember half the shit I said that night. I’d been drinking, and I was falling to pieces.”
“ In Vino veritas ,” I suggested in a sing-song manner.
“ No ,” he retorted.
“ Cazzo , Elysa. I wasn’t thinking straight, and it pains me that you got hurt. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
The man had to be kidding me.
“You’re out of your mind! What did you think you’ve been doing for the past year?” I demanded.
“Every time I made an effort to have a proper marriage, you rebuffed me. The only thing you seemed to truly enjoy was fucking me, and then I found out that you thought it was just okay .”
“I lied.”
“Yeah, Dante. I believe you lied then . But are you telling the truth now ?” I rolled my eyes.
“I did lie. I felt cornered, and I said the first stupid thing that popped into my head. Our sex life is…very good.”
“Very good? Not excellent? Not fabulous? Just very good ?”
The words that came out of this man’s mouth!
“I keep saying the wrong thing, don’t I?” He sighed.
“I worried that if I said it was the best I’ve ever had, you wouldn’t believe me, so I tempered what I said, and you don’t believe that either.”
“I don’t even know why you’re trying to convince me.” I dropped my arms and let my anger go.
There was no point.
“Do what you want to do. Okay? If you’re going to sleep with her while we’re still married, fine. But I don’t need her rubbing it in my face.”
For a moment, he just stared at me, stunned into silence.
And then, finally, he said, “After everything I just said, are you still thinking I’m sleeping with her?”
Did I?
I had no idea anymore.
I was so confused and lost that I didn’t know what was up or down.
“I really don’t give a damn what you do, Dante as long as you give me a divorce.”
Before he could respond, I brushed past him, opened the sliding door, walked out…
and bumped straight into Giulia.
When Dante followed me, she suppressed a grin and kept walking.
Great, now everyone would think we were having sex in the bathroom.