34. Elysa
THIRTY-FOUR
Elysa
“ W e need to sue her for libel and… all those other things you sue people for when they lie their asses off in public,” I announced the moment we stepped into Dante’s office.
Tomasso was already there, waiting, and he smiled at me in amusement.
“You were great at the press conference. You handled those reporters like a pro. Confident, sharp, unshakable—damn near terrifying.”
“Thank you, Tomasso.” I stalked across the room and planted myself next to Tomasso.
Dante settled into his chair across from us at his desk.
“I’m still very angry with that…bi…woman.”
We were at Dante’s workplace, so I knew I had to be a little circumspect with regard to language.
Tomasso chuckled.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else. ”
“Well, duh ,” Dante added, mimicking my American accent with a smirk.
“And to set your mind at ease, I want you to know that Ferdinando Fontana, who is our outside legal counsel, has already looked over the matter and thinks that a judge would agree that what she did was calculated, defamatory, and damaging.”
I exhaled, some of the lingering frustration easing.
“Good. She doesn’t get to do this and walk away.”
“No, she doesn’t,” he agreed.
Dante smiled at me.
“I told you we’d handle it, bella mia .”
Tomasso glanced at his watch.
“We have a meeting, but I’ll follow up with Fontana and get back to you both.”
“You guys should work. I need to get to the bistro.”
I gave Tomasso a quick hug.
I liked him, and I liked that he worked with Dante—he was good people.
“I’ll walk you out,” Dante said, falling in step with me.
We reached the elevator, and he turned to me, studying me with something unreadable in his eyes.
“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
His lips curved into a faint smile.
“I just… I didn’t know you could be so protective.”
I rolled my eyes, but his words sent warmth curling through my chest.
“You’re my husband, in case you missed the memo.”
The elevator doors slid open, and before I could step inside, Dante brushed his lips against mine—soft, quick, but enough to make my breath hitch.
Then, with a teasing smirk, he nudged me into the elevator.
“I’ll see you at the bistro.”
“Yes, you will.”
Since I was now working evenings on weekdays, Dante continued coming to the bistro for dinner.
He’d sit at the bar, working while I did the same, our routines effortlessly syncing.
Once the rush died down, we’d move to a table and share a meal.
I had told Maura I wouldn’t be working weekends—otherwise, I’d never see Dante.
Fortunately, with our well-trained staff, I knew the bistro would run smoothly without me.
Monday nights had become movie nights again—but Dante insisted that I choose all the movies so he could complain about them.
“I don’t know how you can’t like Lord of the Rings . Viggo Mortensen is hot .”
“Maybe that’s exactly why I don’t like it,” Dante pointed out.
“It’s not particularly wifely of you to keep talking about how much you like when another man takes his shirt off.”
“He’s a movie actor, for God’s sake,” I protested.
“And you get all googly-eyed whenever Scarlett Johansen is on the screen.”
“I do not get googly whatever,” Dante said loftily .
Before I could answer, my phone rang, and I saw it was the building’s front desk.
I answered and told the concierge to send our guest up to our flat.
“Who?” Dante asked.
“Papa,” I told him, feeling more than a little apprehensive.
I hadn’t seen him since that terrible evening in Piedmont.
I opened the door and watched my father walk out of the elevator.
Usually, there was confidence about him, but today, he seemed nervous and unsure, and I hoped that was a good sign of how this was going to go.
“Papa,” I greeted.
“Elysa.”
“Vittorio.” Dante slid an arm around my waist and pulled me close.
“It’s a surprise to have you drop in like this.”
“I know Elysa has Mondays off.”
I nudged Dante, who moved us so my father could come into the flat.
I closed the door, and we followed him into the living room.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked politely.
He shook his head.
“I’m good, cara mia . I should’ve called”—he glanced at our television screen where Aragorn was frozen while he battled the uruk-hai —“but I hope I can have a little time with you.”
He sat on an armchair, and we sat across from him on the couch .
This was awkward, but I wasn’t sure what to say to Papa, so I said nothing and waited for him to speak.
“If he’s cheating on you, then you need to leave him,” he declared, and it shocked the hell out of me.
“He’s not cheating on me,” I said at the same time Dante barked, “I’d never cheat on Elysa.”
“But the photos.”
“They’re old, and some are taken strategically to make it look like something they’re not,” I explained.
“And, yes, Dante and Lucia were in a relationship, but that was years ago, long before he and I ever met.”
My father frowned, his eyes narrowing.
“He told you this?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes,” I said at the same time, Dante ground out, “I don’t lie to my wife.”
Papa let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.
“Elysa, I know I haven’t been a good father. I know I’ve failed you in many ways. But I’m asking you to listen to me now. Divorce him. Come back to Piedmont. I’ll take care of you.”
Something in me cracked at his words; the walls I’d built around my anger and hurt suddenly crumbled.
“Take care of me?” I scoffed.
“Like you’ve always taken care of me, Papa? By ignoring me? By treating me like an obligation? You really think I’m going to run back to Piedmont with you? I don’t trust you.”
“Elysa—” he began sharply, but I cut him off.
“No,” I snapped.
“I love Dante, and I’m staying with him.”
For a moment, my father just stared at me, his expression unreadable.
Then, to my shock, his shoulders sagged, and he let out a long breath.
“I see,” he said quietly.
“You love him.”
“I do.”
“And I love my wife,” Dante added.
Papa nodded.
“I….”
“You hit me,” I threw at him.
“I regret that more than anything.”
“Is that an apology?” I demanded.
My father looked surprised.
“Ah…yes.”
Was he kidding me?
“That’s not an apology, and in any case, it’s not accepted.” I leveled him with a steady gaze.
“You resorted to physical violence, Papa. A half-assed, bullshit ‘I regret it’ isn’t going to cut it.”
I glanced at Dante, who met my eyes with a quiet, unwavering smile—a silent promise that he had my back, no matter what I decided.
Turning back to my father, I exhaled slowly.
“I think you should leave. Take some time to reflect—on how you barged in here, insulted my husband and our marriage, and still can’t even muster a proper apology for something so egregious and unacceptable.”
“I know what I did was wrong. But I am your father, Elysa. ”
My voice hardened.
“You’re lucky I even call you Papa.”
My father looked at me with pain in his eyes.
I didn’t want to hurt him, but enough was enough, wasn’t it?
He couldn’t be the father I wanted, and I couldn’t be the daughter he wanted—it was best that we kept it cordial and nothing more.
“Dante, will you walk him out?” I requested.
“Elysa—” My father began but was cut off when Dante growled at him.
“Vittorio, you’re upsetting my wife, and I won’t tolerate that.”
My father had no choice but to leave.
When Dante came back, I stood looking at the city of Rome from the windows of the flat.
He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“You okay, bella mia ?”
“I think maybe for the first time in my life, I’m more than okay,” I told him honestly.
“I’m free of waiting for that man to love me.”