Chapter 14 #2, Unrestrained (Unwilling Bonds #3)

Chapter 14 #2

"Does my husband eat dinner?" It's painful to admit I don't know.

"He does, Signora Katya, at his desk."

Nodding decisively, I get to my feet. I place my fork on my plate and pick it up along with my glass of wine and head for the study.

Gabriele looks up from his desk when I push open the door.

He isn't wearing his patch. I haven't seen him without it before and I have to work hard not to recoil.

The skin around his ruined eye is red and irritated.

He says nothing as I cross the room, set my plate on the desk and take the chair opposite him.

"Eat," I tell him, nodding toward his untouched plate. "You don't want to let it go cold."

"Katya." He says my name as though it's the beginning of an argument he's too tired to have.

"Eat. I'm not leaving until you do."

He shuts his eye for a moment. Then he opens it. I look at him steadily across the desk. Up close, his eye is a mess. The eyelid is scarred and the eye itself is milky white. There's only a hint of blackness where his pupil lies.

I study him brazenly, making sure he knows I'm taking in every detail and it doesn't repulse me. Then I pick up my fork and start to eat.

He picks up his fork. He lifts it to his mouth and raises his other hand to shield the movement.

"Gabriele," I keep my voice even. "Lower your hand."

"Katya."

"There's only me here. Lower your hand."

An internal debate rages in his head, the arguments playing out on his face as he purses his lips, relaxes, then screws up his nose.

Then, slowly, he lowers his hand to the desk and begins to eat.

Chewing is obviously difficult for him. I want to ask about his injuries, the impact they have on him, but that's not a conversation either of us is ready for yet.

Instead, I tell him about the wine Lorenzo sent, that I looked up the vineyard and have fallen in love with the place.

"It's impressive." Gabriele's tone holds no small measure of pride, making me even more curious about why he doesn't talk about his brothers. "The place was a disaster when he bought it, you know. He built it back up."

"I'd love to visit someday." I sip my wine and watch Gabriele carefully as I ask. "Will he come for your birthday?"

He shakes his head. "He's busy. They both are."

"But it's your thirtieth," Lukas let that slip the other day.

"It's no big deal, Katya."

I hear the lie for what it is but I don't challenge him on it. I don't want to get into a fight when I have a different agenda this evening.

"From now on I want you to eat in the dining room with me." I set my fork down. "Not every night, of course, but when you're available."

He looks at me. "I didn't think you'd want…." He gestures to his face.

"Don't make assumptions about what I want, Gabriele. I'm not a child." As if to prove my point, I drink a mouthful of wine. "I want to have dinner with my husband."

Gabriele nods and I allow myself a small smile. If only all battles were so easily won. He picks up his fork and finishes his food.

"I'll come to you later," he tells me.

Back in my room, I sit on the bed with my phone and look at the website for Lorenzo's vineyard once more. A woman answers and I ask to speak to Lorenzo, adding a per favore for good measure. There's a pause before she transfers my call. I didn't expect it to be so easy to reach him.

"Lorenzo Volante," he purrs down the line.

"Hello, my name is Katya Kuznetova."

"I think you mean Volante," he says, with a hint of amusement.

I go still for a moment. "He told you about me?"

"Gabriele didn't tell me anything." The intonation in his voice tells me someone else does. I wonder if my husband knows we have a spy in our midst. "Congratulations, by the way. Beauty and the Beast, right?”

Ah, he saw those trashy headlines too. The bitterness in his voice speaks of an instinct to protect his older brother. Gabriele is lucky he has at least one brother who cares for him. Whether he realises that or not is another matter.

"Thank you."

"So, to what do I owe the honor of this call?" Lorenzo asks.

"I wanted to thank you for the wine. It's a thoughtful gift."

"It's nothing." I imagine him shrugging. "Does he know you're calling me?"

"I didn't tell him, but yes." I know how this house works. Nothing happens without Gabriele being informed.

"Of course." Lorenzo pauses. "How is he?"

Answering that is far more difficult than it should be. I settle on, "He's okay."

"Good." Lorenzo sounds unconvinced. "Take care of him."

I'll try. I end the call and place the phone down.

The room has turned dark around me. I sit for a moment and think about Gabriele.

It's like sharing a home with a ghost at times.

Some days I would barely know he's there.

We move past each other barely connecting.

Then in here, in the bedroom, we come together.

For now it's enough but I don't know how much longer I'll feel that way.

With a sigh, I lie back on the bed and wait for him to come to me.

"Will they come for his birthday?" I ask. "His brothers and their wives?"

Lukas shakes his head.

"Pity." I glance at the label again. Why does a wolf's head seem apt for a Volante? "He doesn't talk about them. Have they fallen out?"

"Leave it, Katya." His voice is firm but not unkind. "Believe me, nothing good will come from picking at that scab."

What a lovely turn of phrase he has. I put down the bottle and turn to Santo.

"I'm going to go to my room for a while before dinner. Why don't you put our game away. Don't forget all the pieces you have hidden up your sleeve or wherever you've got them."

"Madre di Dio!" Santo rolls his eyes heavenward. "I did not cheat, Signora Volante. You are like a dog with a bone."

Yes, tenacious. That's me. I won't rest until I've discovered all my husband's secrets, including what's going on with his brothers.

When I get to my bedroom, I retrieve the cellphone I finally received yesterday and open my internet app to search for Casa di Lupo.

Several articles come up but I click on the link to their website.

It's an impressive organization producing internationally recognized wines.

There's a restaurant attached that's won several awards.

It's run by Lucia Volante. There's a picture of her, a stunning brunette in chef's whites.

I search through the website, gaining a sense that this is a high-end place that somehow retains a family feel.

The sole image I find of Lorenzo is of him holding a glass up to the light to inspect its contents.

Something about the serious look on his face reminds me of my husband.

There's no mistaking that they're brothers, but Lorenzo's hair is tousled and he has facial hair that suggests laziness about shaving rather than a deliberate attempt to grow a beard.

I set my phone down and go to change for dinner.

When I enter the dining room, the table is set, as always, for one. I shove down the pang of regret that causes me and take my seat. Maria brings in a bowl with rigatoni and the ragù she obviously spent hours making. I pick up my fork as she pours me a glass of red wine, then set it down again.