Chapter 35 #2
"He's recovering well," Enzo continues, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on my back. "I have him in a private medical care facility, the best money can buy. The doctors are optimistic about his recovery."
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. "It's my fault," I say. "I pushed him to go to that sandwich shop. If I hadn't been so stubborn, if I had just listened—"
"Stop," Enzo says firmly, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes. "This was not your fault, Livia. None of it."
I shake my head, unable to accept his words. "But if I hadn't insisted on going, if I had just returned to the mansion like you wanted—"
"The Rossis would have found another way," Enzo interrupts, his jaw clenching at the mention of our enemies. "They were determined to get to you, to get to me. This isn't on you. The blame lies solely with them, and they've paid the price for it."
"Still," I insist, unable to let go of my guilt entirely, "Alex got hurt because of me."
"Alex knew the risks when he took on the job of protecting you. He's a professional, Livia. He doesn't blame you, and neither do I."
"Well, I want to see him," I say suddenly. "When he's well enough. I just need to apologize."
Enzo nods. "Of course. When the doctors clear him for visitors, I'll take you to see him myself." Then he shifts to sit up in the bed. "I want to talk to you about the diary."
Though it's a bit hard, I sit up too. "You don't need to tell me anything about it."
He shakes his head. "No, if you're going to be my wife, then you must know things you want to know.
Look, you're entering my world now. I need you beside me, not in the shadows like I thought wives were supposed to be.
I need you in my corner, I need your intelligence, your wit, but most importantly—I just need you. "
"I'm here for you, Enzo."
"So there can be no more secrets between you and me moving forward. Ask, and I will tell you."
My mind explodes with thoughts of everything I learned in that journal. Part of me wants to ask him outright about everything, but the other part of me doesn't care. In time, maybe I'll learn about it. I just don't feel it's worth it anymore.
"You know, I came to that diary in a bad way. So you know what's in it. Why don't you tell me what you want and leave out what you don't want to share right now," I say.
Enzo takes a few moments to process what I said and then nods.
"My grandfather started having some memory issues.
It started small. Like he'd forget that he told you something or he'd lose his keys.
At first, it was easy to brush off, or he'd suddenly remember whatever it was.
But one day he stopped remembering. We'd have to tell him, and he'd say he remembered, but you could tell he couldn’t.
And then one day, I walked in the house, and he didn't recognize me," Enzo says and takes a deep breath.
I can tell this is hard for him, so I reach out and grab his hand. He squeezes it.
"So my father decided he should take over. The problem was we were all too ashamed to admit what was happening, so no one knew my grandfather’s condition.
Thus, no one agreed to let my dad take control since my grandfather was alive.
Of course, they told my grandfather, and he was very upset.
He thought my father was trying to overstep him, and there was all this fighting, and it was terrible.
I found a place in Italy that would take my grandfather.
Do tests, watch him, and let us know what the hell was going on.
I arranged everything, down to the private flights there and back—no one would have found out," he continues.
His chest is starting to rise rapidly, and I can tell something bad is coming.
"And that son of a bitch killed him. Shot his own damn father just to control the Bonventi family.
My relationship with my father was always rocky.
He never approved. Never was satisfied. He acted like he built all this, that it was owed to him, and he was above everyone.
So when I found out, we fought badly, and he had the audacity to order a hit on me.
Can you believe that? My own fucking father put out a hit on his son. "
"Jesus Christ," I say, the words just spilling out. I cover my mouth. "Sorry."
"No, I get it. It's a worthy reaction. So the hitman comes to me and tells me.
See, my father didn't care much for loyalty, so he never paid attention to the loyalty I had built among the family from the top all the way down.
So when I confronted my father and he drew—I was quicker, and that was that. "
"So the hitman saved you?"
Enzo nods. "Yes, and years later, when he made a mistake, I offered him a way out as a way to repay my debt to him," Enzo says, looking at me. "His sister's hand in marriage."
"Gabriel!" I blurt out.
Enzo nods. "Yep, and honestly, all this has been such a burden on me that I would ask God why I had to do all this, and now I see that all this brought me to you. A fucked up way to arrive at your soulmate’s door—but I'll take it."
"Soulmates? You think that's what I am to you?" I ask with the biggest smile possible.
"I don't think—I know."
"By the way, did Gabriel ever tell you what he did to have you wind up in my house?"
I shake my head. "No, in the beginning, I was too mad, and then when I started having feelings for you, I didn't care. Now that I love you—I really don't care."
"Fair enough. If you ever want to know, ask him. It’s probably best coming from him."
I shrug. "I now feel this is exactly where I am supposed to be, so…"
Enzo smiles and kisses me.
"Why don't we go downstairs and have some food? Maybe discuss our Sicily trip and, you know, maybe some wedding stuff. Of course, your PhD comes first like I promised, but it wouldn't hurt to start thinking about it."
"I'd like that very much."
As we get dressed, Enzo takes my hand to walk downstairs. Before we get to the door, he turns to look at me. "What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined for life?"
I smile.
"Absolutely nothing."