Chapter 16
Istep out of the shower, the warm water still dripping down my body as I wrap a soft, plush towel around myself. After this morning's events, I felt it was needed to calm my body down.
I open the bathroom door and stare at my suitcase, the contents spilling out haphazardly. I stare at it and realize two things. One, the pang of not having my old life is fading, and two, I've been more or less living out of a suitcase since I arrived.
As I go to walk toward it, I pause, and my eyes drift to the ornate closet door, knowing it's filled with designer clothing and accessories. Things Enzo thought, maybe hoped, I'd wear.
When I first arrived, I instantly refused, thinking all sorts of things, but now, now I'm curious.
I make my way over to the closet, my hand hovering on the handle. I tell myself I shouldn't, but then tell myself I should.
I take a breath and pull the door open. Even though I've been in here, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time. A luxurious array of dresses, blouses, skirts, pants, shoes—everything, all in my size.
I see a black dress, and I suddenly remember my black dress, the one I wore to impress Jake.
Jake.
Shit, oh my god, I realize I hadn't thought about him in days. I used to rant to Megan about him, and now it's... I don't know, maybe I just liked the attention he threw my way most.
I make a mental note to email Meg. She's left me alone these last few weeks since my abrupt family emergency, but I should reach out to her.
I refocus on the clothes, and something speaks to me. Something I don't think I'd ever buy, but here it is.
It's a black A-line dress with puffy sleeves. I rock my head side to side and bite my lip. Should I? I mean, maybe a new outfit and some of that makeup over there on the counter would make me feel better. Getting dressed up to go to class always put me in a good mood.
"Fuck it," I mutter, dropping my towel and slipping the dress over my head.
The material glides over my curves and feels light and airy against my skin.
I turn to the full-length mirror, and I shock even myself.
It's not form-fitting, but the cut combined with the deep v-neck gives off a relaxed, sexy vibe.
Plus, it's got pockets, which seals it for me. I'm wearing it.
I turn to the vanity, eyeing the array of makeup laid out before me. My hand hovers over a tube of deep red lipstick. I've never worn anything so bold before. But then again, I've never worn something like this before, either.
As I apply the lipstick, I can't help but think of Enzo. The way his eyes darkened with desire when he looked at me this morning. The heat of his touch on my skin. My body responds to the memory, a warmth spreading through me.
This is for me, I try to convince myself as I run a brush through my hair, letting it fall in soft waves around my shoulders. But I know it's a lie. Every stroke of the brush, every swipe of mascara, is for him.
I slide on a pair of lace panties and slip on a pair of strappy heels, marveling at how they transform my posture, my attitude.
I feel powerful, desirable.
Dangerous.
I take one last look in the mirror and start laughing. Who the hell dresses like this to go sit at a desk all day and work on a dissertation?
Well, it's not for that, is it? It's for the dinner. I'm just dressed a little early.
I leave the suite and walk slowly to the library. I haven't worn heels in some time and regret not picking flats. I'll just take them off when I get to where I'm going, which is exactly what I do as I take a seat at the desk.
I'm not in there five minutes when Marcella enters.
"Morning, Livia," she says with a slight smile.
"Good morning, Marcella."
"Enzo wanted me to inform you he's had to leave on business and—"
"Will he be here for dinner?" I ask, blurting out the question before even letting her finish.
She nods. "Yes, he wanted me to assure you that he will be here for dinner with you this evening."
I smile and nod. "Thank you."
"I'll send in Antonio to take your breakfast order," she says and leaves.
I like Antonio. When Enzo's not around, he's a bit light-hearted and easygoing. Out of all the staff thus far, I think I've bonded with him the most.
As the day goes on, I'm lost in my work. It's about five or six o'clock when I feel I can't write another word. I sit back in my chair and sigh.
Then, I remember it—the diary.
I open the drawer and pull it out, looking around the room as if Enzo is there watching me.
Then, that damn nagging feeling comes into my mind.
I shouldn't be snooping, going through his things like a creeper.
But, I analyze, if I'm going to marry this person and be with him, and he won't tell me much about his past or family—then what choice do I have?
This, I can control. I can maybe learn about him, maybe figure out his complex stoic one day, gift-giving forward sexualness the next.
Moreover, maybe it'll help me, too. Learn why I'm starting to become interested in him, learn the right questions to ask.
No, I'm not snooping, I'm not a creeper—I'm just researching the man I'm supposed to marry, that's not so bad.
I open the book again and grab my phone. Before starting, I open the notes app and jot down a few things.
Name: V. Bonventi.
Start Date: September 15.
Brother Marco died. Rival family. Enzo's brother's namesake?
Okay, let's see what else there is. I start holding my phone over page after page, my fingers tracing the faded ink. A lot of it is boring, and I am surprised Enzo's grandfather took the time to write some of it. But as I get deeper into the diary, I finally find something—a bit of drama.
"M's temper flared again today. R tried to reason with him, but it only made things worse. The shouting could be heard from the street. This tension I fear may tear us apart."
I take it that M and R must be Enzo's grandfather's brothers or close relatives. I can tell Enzo's grandfather writes with a heavy hand; the letters are darker and more visible, as if he carved them out of his frustrations.
I continue reading, and a few pages later, I find another interesting entry. It's dated October 4th, the rest illegible.
"Another argument. M accuses R of undermining his authority. R claims M is becoming paranoid, seeing threats where there are none. I fear for our family's future if this continues."
I lean back in my chair, my mind reeling. As I'm uncovering more about the Bonventi family's history, I have no idea who M and R are. It's frustrating.
I read the next entry, almost a month later, on November 2nd.
"Things have escalated beyond my worst fears. M and R came to blows today. Blood was spilled on our family's floor. How did we come to this? Family should stand united, not tear each other apart."
The raw emotion in the words makes my chest tighten. I can almost feel the writer's anguish, his desperation to keep his family together.
My fingers tremble as I turn to the next entry. It's only days later, on November 10th.
"M threatened to leave, to start his own family. R laughed in his face, dared him to try. The look in M's eyes, I've never seen such cold fury. This is no longer sustainable, no longer about business disagreements. God help us all."
I instinctively turn the page, as if I'm engrossed in a story and wanting to know what comes next. The next entry is stained with water droplets and smeared ink, as if written frantically or quickly. It's dated December 1st.
"The unthinkable has happened. M is gone.
Not just from the family, but from this world.
R claims it was a rival family, but his eyes tell me a different story.
I see the guilt, the regret. He believes he did what was necessary for the family's survival.
But at what cost? All our souls will burn for this.
Please don't make me be next. And please God, don't let E take matters into his own hands. "
I turn the page. That's it.
"What the fuck," I say quietly, and flip page after page to see if there's any more writing—it's empty.
I lean back. "What the fuck did I just read? Does E stand for Enzo?"
Damn it, I just read some serious shit and I have no idea who anyone is. I rub my temples.
"There's the author of this, V, who's Enzo's grandfather, but who's M? Who's R? And why did Enzo's grandfather's brother Marco die?"
I stash the diary back in my drawer, concealing it, and almost slam it shut out of frustration.
I do this. I get all into something, either by hobby or by academic research, and then when it doesn't immediately make sense to me, I want to burn down the fucking building out of frustration.
Gabriel used to tell me that was my only crazy side, not knowing things. Asshole was right.
Actually, I don't think he's an asshole anymore. I've rejected all his calls
and haven't spoken to him since he left me here, but like with everything else—things are starting to fall into place, and my mental outlook is shifting. Maybe it's time to answer the phone next time he calls.
I look up at the clock, 7:45 p.m. I slip back into my heels and touch myself up in front of the mirror. Something I've never done here.
I go over the questions I can slide in to ask Enzo. He's the key to understanding what I just read in the diary, so he'll help reveal his past to me whether he likes it or not.
Making some notes in my phone, I exit the library on a quest to break down the man who's supposed to become my future in just a few months.