Chapter 10 Livia
Irub my eyes, blinking away the fatigue that's settled in after hours of intense focus. The books and papers strewn across the desk tell the story of my day — a chaotic journey through research, punctuated by frantic note-taking and moments of what I hope will lead to an academic epiphany.
My gaze falls on the sleek new computer Marcella delivered earlier. I'd been resistant at first, clinging to my old laptop like a life raft, but the allure of cutting-edge technology proved too strong. Now, the screen glows with half-finished thoughts and partially formed arguments.
I lean back in the plush leather chair, stretching my arms above my head. My shoulders pop, a reminder of how long I've been hunched over my work.
I really need to be getting up every hour to move around.
The library, which I've decided to call my library now, has become a safe place for me.
When I woke this morning, Enzo was already gone.
I hurried to change and gathered all the things I brought for my research and hauled them down to the library to set up my work area.
It took two trips, since I refused help from one of the guards at the door to Enzo's suite.
I've been in this room ever since with no one bothering me all day.
It felt really good to focus on the things that matter to me.
My stomach growls, which reminds me that I did have one visitor today. A woman whose name I didn't catch brought me some lunch, which sits half-eaten on a side table, long since gone cold. I glance at the ornate clock on the wall, surprised to see it's nearly dinnertime.
I stand up, stretching again, and make my way to one of the large windows. Outside, I see the damn all-too-perfect manicured grounds. It's weird to think that if something is too perfect, when it's not for most people even though they may wish it were, it can make you sick.
I turn away from the window and look around the room.
While I've enjoyed being left alone in here, oddly enough, Enzo's absence today has been a little, almost unsettling.
A part of me has been on edge all day, waiting for him to burst in at any moment.
The quiet has been both a blessing and a curse — allowing me to lose myself in my work, yet leaving me with an inexplicable sense of anticipation.
As I take a step towards my desk, there's a quick knock at the library door, and then they swing open. My heart leaps into my throat, expecting to see his imposing figure. Instead, it's Marcella, her face stern as ever.
"Miss Falcone," she says, her tone professional.
"Please call me Livia," I say. I told her this morning when she dropped off the new computer, but she must have forgotten.
"Right, sorry. Livia. Dinner will be served in thirty minutes. Mr. Bonventi requests your presence in the dining room."
"I'll be there," I say.
Marcella nods and turns to leave but pauses at the door. "I took the liberty of laying out a dress from your closet on your bed. I'm sure Mr. Bonventi would appreciate it if you wore it."
Before I can respond, she's gone. I glance down at my wrinkled clothes, then back at the mess on my desk. Part of me wants to rebel, to show up to dinner in my current state just to spite Enzo.
Damn him.
Even when he's not here, he's in my head, influencing my decisions.
After a restless back and forth in my head, my jaw sets with determination. I'll go as I am. It's the real me, not some dolled-up version of myself. If Enzo can't handle that, it's his problem, not mine.
I make my way to the dining room, my stomach a knot of anticipation and nerves. As I approach the ornate double doors, they're pulled open by two men in suits. They barely acknowledge me as I walk through.
The rich aroma of garlic and herbs wafts through the air, making my stomach growl. Enzo stands at the head of the table, his broad shoulders filling out his tailored suit perfectly. He turns as I enter, his blue eyes looking me over.
“There you are," he says with a smile. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd lost your way."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "No, I found it quite easily, thank you." I move to take a seat at the far end of the table, but Enzo gestures to the chair to his right.
"Please, join me," he says.
I nod, walk over, and take my seat. Enzo helps push my chair in.
He places a hand on my shoulder, his touch is warm and gentle. “How was working in the library today?" he asks.
"It was nice," I reply. "Thanks again for —"
"Please," he says, cutting me off. “I like knowing you’re happy in there.”
“I am,” I nod still thinking of his touch.
"And did Marcella bring the computer?" he asks, leaning over me and pouring me a glass of wine.
"She did," I say, and reach for the newly filled glass.
"Good," Enzo says and takes his seat next to me, reaching for his wine.
“Hopefully you didn’t miss me too much today,” he says from behind his glass.
I'm a bit taken aback by his words. I turn to look at him, and for a brief moment, I see something in his gaze.
“I...I just appreciated the time to focus on my work."
Enzo smiles, and the first course arrives. We eat in silence for a few moments. I find my mind drifting back to the library, to the photograph I'd discovered earlier. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "I found a picture in the library. On the writing desk."
Enzo's right eyebrow raises slightly. "Oh?"
"It looked like you," I continue, unsure why I'm even bringing this up. "You and two others. Brothers, maybe?"
"Ah, yes, I know the photo you're talking about. That would be Gio and Marco. My brothers."
"I didn't know you had brothers," I say, curiosity getting the better of me.
Enzo takes a sip of his wine before answering. "Gio, the middle, and Marco, the youngest."
"And what do they do? Actually," I pause for a moment, "what exactly do you do?"
Enzo smiles. "Gio helps me with the family business. And Marco, you didn't recognize him?"
"No, I didn't think so."
"Don't tell him that," Enzo says, laughing. "He's the Vice Mayor of Chicago."
"Sounds impressive," I say, and take a bite of food. "And you?"
Enzo sighs. "I run the family enterprises. All boring stuff, I promise. Not as exciting as your research."
I scoff. "Well, I don't know how exciting any of my research would be to anyone but me."
"Sometimes, all that matters is what you think," Enzo says, taking a bite of food.
I can't help but ask, "Do you see them often?"
"As often as business needs or allows," Enzo replies, his tone guarded.
I nod, sensing I've pushed as far as I can on this topic. We lapse into silence again, the only sounds are the clink of cutlery against fine china.
As we finish the main course, I find myself stealing glances at Enzo. I hate how aware I am of him, how my body seems to hum with energy just being near him.
"Tell me about your research," Enzo says suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts. "What progress have you made today?"
I blink, surprised by his interest. "Well, today was some research around Oscar Wilde's whole art for art's sake vibe."
Enzo leans forward, his blue eyes intense. "Wilde? An interesting choice. 'To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.'"
I can't hide my surprise at his quote. "You've read Wilde?"
He smirks. "I'm not just a pretty face, Livia. I appreciate good literature. All those first editions in there I've read. Most of those books in there I've read, actually."
I feel a blush creeping up my neck. "I'm impressed," I admit reluctantly.
"There's a lot you don't know about me," Enzo says intensely. "As Wilde said, 'The truth is rarely pure and never simple,' Much like my feelings for you, cara mia."
I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how alone we are in this grand dining room. The air feels thick with tension, and I'm not sure if I want to run away or lean in closer.
"Perhaps," I manage to say, "we're all 'lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.'"
Enzo's eyes hold mine for a long moment before he leans back in his chair. "Ready for the main course?" he asks, his tone lighter but still charged with something I can't quite name.
I nod, not trusting my voice. As the servants bring in the final course, I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between us.
I push my plate away, feeling uncomfortably full. The rich food sits heavy in my stomach, so different from the meager meals I've been surviving on as a grad student. Enzo watches me, his blue eyes unreadable in the soft candlelight.
An awkward silence falls between us. I find my thoughts drifting back to the library, to that beautiful antique writing desk. I decide to break the silence, "That Victorian writing desk in the library, it's stunning."
Enzo's expression shifts, a flicker of pain? Nostalgia? — something crossing his face. "Yes, it is," he agrees, his tone careful.
"I was wondering," I continue, "if I could maybe use it sometimes? For my research? It seems like the perfect place to write about Victorian literature, being as it's from that time period."
The moment the words leave my mouth, I see Enzo's jaw tighten, his eyes hardening.
"No," he says, his voice low and firm. "That desk is off-limits."
I blink, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," he cuts me off, but his tone suggests it's anything but. "You couldn't have known."
Curiosity burns within me, warring with my better judgment. I should let it go, but I can't. "Known what?" I ask softly.
Enzo sighs. "That desk belonged to my grandfather," he says finally. "No one has used it since he died."
"Oh," I breathe, feeling a pang of sympathy. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"
"It's fine," he repeats, but this time his voice is gentler.
I nod, not knowing what else to say. The silence stretches between us again, heavy with unspoken words and emotions I can't quite decipher.
"Tell me about him," I find myself saying, surprising both of us. "Your grandfather, I mean."
Enzo's eyes meet mine, and after a long moment, he speaks. "Maybe another time. I have a meeting to attend to."
"Really? So late?" I ask, surprised.
"Work never sleeps," he says and stands. "I will see you a little later."
Enzo's abrupt departure leaves me unsettled, my curiosity piqued. What is the significance of that desk to him? Is he hiding something? What memories does it hold?
There has to be more.
I need to find out.