Chapter 25
My heart races at the sight of Enzo as he enters the library, greeting me. My stomach is in knots, a combination of love, anxiety, and fear churning. I force a smile and manage to push out, "Hi."
As Enzo approaches me, I can see a flash of concern in his eyes, which can only mean he sees that in me.
My fingers instinctively reach for my skull pendant, twirling it nervously between my fingers.
"What's wrong, Livia?" Enzo asks, his voice soft.
I don't respond right away, and he gestures to my necklace. "You're playing with your pendant. You only do that when you're anxious about something."
Shit.
The fact that he now notices my habits, a testament to our growing closeness, sends a pang through my chest.
Please don't let me fuck this up.
Enzo takes a seat across the desk from me, his piercing blue eyes fixed on my face. "Talk to me," he says, his tone gentle but leaving no room for evasion.
"Enzo, I..." I start, then turn silent.
How do I even begin to explain?
"Whatever it is, Livia, you can tell me," he encourages, reaching across the desk to take my hand. His touch is warm, comforting, and it nearly breaks me.
I pull my hand away, unable to bear his kindness when I've betrayed his trust. "I, uh, I need to talk to you about something," I say and take a deep breath to calm myself, "I…I found something."
"What did you—?"
"In the writing desk. The one you told me not to touch," I blurt out, my voice shaky.
Enzo's expression hardens as he leans back in his chair. Anger rises in his face, and I can see him struggling to remain composed.
"The desk I asked you not to touch?" he asks, his voice now sounding carefully controlled, as if it's the first of many steps.
I nod, and I can feel my eyes starting to fill with water.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "It was a diary. Your grandmother's diary."
The silence that follows is deafening. I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears and see Enzo's jaw tighten as he processes my words.
"How much did you read?" he asks finally, his voice sounding unfamiliar to me.
I flinch at his tone, feeling the betrayal.
"Most of it, well, actually, all of it. I had to translate it," I admit, unable to meet his eyes.
"I'm so, so sorry, Enzo. I know you asked me not to, I shouldn't have, but I was curious to get to know you more because I was starting to develop feelings, and you weren't opening up, and then once I started thinking the desk could hold all the answers, I just couldn't stop.
And, and, when I found it, it was like a window into your family's past, and I. .."
"You had no right," Enzo cuts me off, his voice sharp as a knife. "That was private, Livia. My family's history is not some fucking Victorian novel for you to dissect and analyze."
His words sting, but I know I deserve them. "I know," I say, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes now. "I'm sorry. I just, I wanted to understand you better. To understand where you came from."
Enzo stands abruptly, knocking the chair he was sitting on to the floor. The impact makes me jump.
I watch as he starts pacing. I can see the tension in every line of his body, the anger, which so far he's controlled, simmering just beneath the surface. "What exactly did you learn from this little excursion into my family's past?" he asks, his tone tight and firm.
I hesitate for a moment before speaking. "I learned about your grandfather, Marcello. About how much your grandmother loved him. And about your father, Rocco."
Enzo stops and leans over the desk, gripping the edge so firmly I think he may be getting ready to flip the desk into the air, though it's too large for that, his anger may make him try.
"And what about my father?" he asks, almost snarling at me.
I can feel my body entering fight or flight mode with his newfound tone and body language. I feel a different type of heat rising in me, the one that makes me fight.
"The diary hinted at something. About your grandfather's death. That maybe, maybe your father was involved somehow. And you—"
Enzo whirls around, his eyes blazing with fury. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he spits out.
"I'm just telling you what I read," I interject, my own voice rising to match his intensity. "I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I just, I don't know—I thought you should know."
Enzo slams his hands down on the desk, making me jump, and an audible gasp leaves my lips. "You thought I should know? As if I don't know my own family's history? As if you, an outsider, could possibly understand the complexities of our relationships based on some scribbled words in an old diary?"
His words cut deep, reminding me of my position in his world. "I'm sorry," I say again, feeling small and foolish. "I just wanted to, to be closer to you."
Enzo laughs, a harsh, bitter sound that makes me feel mocked and alone. "Closer to me? By going behind my back? By disobeying me? Or by betraying me by invading my privacy and dredging up painful memories? Which is it? Or is that just your fucking idea of intimacy with someone you care for, Livia?"
I feel my body heat up now. Fight mode has fully kicked in and I do what I usually do, grab the bull by the damn horns and respond.
I stand up, anger surging within me despite my guilt.
"Shit, what was I supposed to do, Enzo? Huh?
" I say, shrugging my shoulders. "You kept so much of yourself hidden.
You expected me to be your wife, to be part of this family, but you wouldn't let me in.
How am I supposed to navigate this fucking world with you if I don't understand it? "
Enzo's eyes narrow in on me, his voice dropping to a dangerous low I feel is reserved only for his enemies. "You navigate it by trusting me, Livia. By respecting my boundaries. Not by being disloyal and playing some damn amateur detective with decades-old secrets."
"Well, I fucking never asked for any of this. For you, here," I say, pointing around the room, "I was happy in Los Angeles. With my friends. I even had someone I was interested in."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I've made a terrible mistake. Enzo's eyes flash with a rage I've never seen before, and for the first time since I've known him, I feel genuinely afraid.
"Someone you were interested in?" he growls. "You think that matters now? You think any of that matters?"
I take a step back, my heart rate rising. "Enzo, I didn't mean—"
But before I can finish, Enzo's arm swings out in a wide arc.
I flinch, thinking for a split second that he's going to hit me, but instead, his hand connects with an antique vase on a nearby table.
The crash is loud as it shatters against the wall, sending shards of porcelain flying in every direction.
I can't help but let out a startled scream, my hands flying up to cover my mouth instinctively. When I look away from the mess, I see Enzo standing there, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with fury.
"You didn't mean what, Livia?" he snarls, taking a step toward me. "You didn't mean to betray my trust? You didn't mean to go behind my back? Or you didn't mean to throw your past interests in my face?"
I back away, feeling the edge of the chair press against my calves. "I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I shouldn't have said that. I was just angry and—"
"Angry?" Enzo laughs. "You think you have the right to be angry? After what you've done?"
He's so close to me now I can feel the heat radiating off his body, see the pulse throbbing in his neck. I've never seen him like this, so out of control, so... dangerous.
"I gave you everything," he hisses, his face inches from mine. "A home, protection, a future. And this is how you repay me? By disobeying me and digging into my past, into my family's secrets?"
I want to argue, to defend myself, but the words die in my throat. Because he's right, isn't he? He has given me everything, even if it wasn't what I initially wanted. And I've repaid him by betraying his trust.
"I'm sorry," I say again. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have—"
"No," Enzo cuts me off. "You shouldn't have. But you did. And now we have to deal with the consequences."
He turns away from me abruptly, running a hand over his face. I can see the chaos in every line of his body.
"What…" I swallow hard, forcing myself to speak. "What are you going to do?"
Enzo turns back to face me, and I'm struck by the coldness in his eyes. It's like looking at a stranger, not the man I've come to care for over these past weeks.
"I don't know, Livia," he says. "You've proven that I can't trust you. That you'll go behind my back the moment you think you can get away with it."
I feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I know at any moment, they will flow down my cheeks. "That's not true," I protest. "I care about you, Enzo. Like I said, I just wanted to understand—"
"Enough of that," Enzo says, raising his hand.
"I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But please, Enzo, can't we—"
"Can't we what?" he interrupts. "Move past this? Pretend it never happened? You crossed a line, Livia. One that can't be uncrossed."
I feel a chill run through me at his words. "What are you saying?"
Enzo looks at me for a long moment.
"The diary," he demands. "Give it to me. Now."
My hands tremble, and I bend down, open the drawer, and pull out the worn leather-bound book. I hold it out to him, feeling as if I'm surrendering more than just Valentina's diary.
Enzo snatches it from my grasp, his fingers brushing against mine for a brief moment. The contact reminds me of the intimacy we once shared, now shattered by my betrayal.
He opens the diary and shuffles through the pages, as if checking to see if I took anything.
"Enzo," I say. "Please, can we talk about this?"
He slams the diary shut and looks at me.
"I never meant to hurt you," I plead. "I just wanted..."
I can't even finish the words, and I start gasping for air as my crying comes on strong.