Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Violetta
For three days now I've hung around the palazzo like a fool, waiting for Damiano to return. Though nobody's forbidden it, I don't return to work or go back to my own apartment.
Instead I've spent hours in the sitting room reading books I have little interest in, or in the pool working off my frustrations.
Twice a day I venture into the gardens for fresh air and a change of scenery. Stefano appears at my back, a silent shadow walking three paces behind. His looming presence makes me want to scream.
Everything does right now. I torture myself trying to work out why he told me I could leave. Why then, when I surrendered the part of me I'd held back? Did he decide he didn't want me anymore? Was he trying to be noble?
Nothing makes sense. I need to see him, to make him explain. But when I try to call him, his phone goes to voicemail.
When I ask any of the staff where he is, they're evasive. In fact, Gianni told me outright my husband is dealing with a personal matter and it's none of my business. That smarted.
Though I'm sure the entire household knows my husband and I have been sleeping separately, I am still Damiano's wife. It should count for something.
Lina has tried to cheer me up, feeding me my favorite dishes, but she won't tell me anything either. Her sympathetic glances are becoming hard to bear.
Deciding I've shredded my dignity enough, I pull a suitcase from the back of the closet and open it on the bed. I start to pack my things. I'm folding the emerald green dress Damiano seemed to like so much when there's a knock at the door.
Lina steps into the room, a cup of coffee in hand.
"I thought you'd like..." Her voice trails off as she takes in the case on the bed and the dress in my hand.
Putting the cup of coffee down on the dressing table, she comes and sits on the bed.
"What's all this, Violetta?" She gestures to the pile of clothes.
Though I'm glad she's finally addressing me by my name as I've requested she do a million times since I married Damiano, I don't feel like explaining myself right now.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Making a silly mistake."
"A mistake?" Realizing I'm practically yelling, I bring my volume down a notch. "Lina, he walked away from me. I gave him every last part of me and he walked away."
Sorrow fills me at the thought. I sink down onto the bed beside her.
Lina gives me a look of mock disapproval. "I don't even want to know what every last part of you means."
I burst out laughing, which I'm sure was her intention. She grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly.
"Did you give him the only part that matters?" she asks. "Did you give him your heart?"
"No, but..."
Lina raises her hand to silence me and I shut up immediately. I have great respect for this woman and if she has something to say I'll listen.
"No matter how great the sex is, it means nothing if you don't tell each other how you feel."
"I don't know how I feel."
She gives me a pointed look. "Yes you do. He has your heart and you have his and neither of you has told the other."
"I shouldn't have to tell him."
Lina scoffs at that. "He's a man, Violetta. You need to tell him straight. If you truly love him, that is."
I throw my hands in the air. "How can I love him, Lina? You know what he is. He's a terrible man."
She nods. "Yes. What he is can be terrible, but have you considered who he is?"
"Can the two be separated?"
The older woman shrugs. "It's not easy of course, but think about it this way. Has he been terrible to you?"
"Well, he did kidnap me, force me to marry him and then refuse to let me leave," I say wryly. "So you tell me."
"Hmm." She contemplates that for a minute. "Those are terrible things of course but think about the reasons he did them. Did he do any of it to hurt you?"
I think about that for a minute and eventually concede she has a point. "No, he didn't do it to hurt me."
"Then ask yourself if you can put those things aside and build on the positives."
If I'm honest with myself, before the night he left, I'd already decided to do that.
"But I don't even know if he feels the same about me."
"Of course he does. That's why he wants to keep you safe, to protect you from the more painful things in life."
Something in her voice makes me suspicious.
"What painful things?"
Lina sighs. "I told him he should tell you, that you'd want to know, but he said he needed to deal with this himself."
Nervous tension builds inside me and I dig my fingers into the mattress beneath me. "What's going on, Lina?"
She looks at me sadly. "His Mamma died."
The room goes eerily still. I choke on a sob as I digest what she just said. Lina wraps an arm around me as I dissolve into tears.
It's silly, really. I only met her once but I cry for Beatrice, for the memory of her smile, for Lorenzo and Gabriele, but most of all for Damiano who thinks he has to shoulder this alone.
When I finally stop crying, Lina produces a white lace handkerchief from her pocket and hands it to me. I blow my nose.
"That's why he left?" I ask her.
She nods. "He's been in Rome the last few days arranging things."
"By himself?"
"Signore Lorenzo joined him this morning."
I glance at the suitcase behind me and a sharp pang of regret cuts through me.
Over the last couple of days I've thought awful things about Damiano. I've cursed him to hell and back, all because I constructed the wrong story in my head. I thought he'd walked out on me for business.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"I think you know."
Yes, I do. He held this close because he didn't want me to return to him out of pity. If only the call had come five minutes later. He'd have heard me tell him I didn't want to leave. I don't want to dwell on that now.
"When is the funeral?"
"Tomorrow at a crematorium near Rome."
"A crematorium?"
"Beatrice disliked the idea of being buried."
I don't know much about Lina's background with the Volante family. "You knew her well?"
"Not very. I worked for her for a time but when she became... when she was injured, she needed someone to care for her in ways I could not. Damiano hired Agnesca and I came to work for him."
"Will you go to the funeral?"
"No, like I said, I didn't know her well and I don't wish to intrude."
I wonder if there's a message in that for me. Lina isn't always as direct as she might be.
"Would it be intruding if I went?"
"Of course not." Lina pushes to her feet. "But you'll need someone to drive you."
She leaves, pulling the door closed behind her. I pick up the suitcase and put it back in the closet. The thought of Damiano dealing with his mother's death, the hideous practicalities of funeral arrangements, all by himself is unbearable. I should be there by his side.
And yet, there's still a doubt in my mind. If he wanted me there, he'd have told me. I chew that over for a minute and decide I'm going. I'll sit at the back and be there if he needs me. If not, then at least I'll have tried.
Searching through the rails in my closet, I find a black dress and hang it on the wardrobe door. Then I go in search of Stefano.