Chapter 27 #2
Not wanting to dwell on how my very presence must terrify her, I head to my bedroom across from hers, take a quick shower, and try to get a few hours of sleep.
But the second I slide under the sheets, I know sleep won’t come.
It was the same yesterday. How could I sleep knowing the woman I love is just across the hall?
Merda. I won’t be able to think straight if I don’t get at least an hour or two. A war is brewing after all, and I’ll be no use to the Cosa Nostra if I’m sleep-deprived.
Knowing there’s only one way to guarantee that, I grab a pillow and head back to Anna’s room. I settle into the armchair beside the window, my body relaxing instantly at the sound of her soft breathing.
Yes.
Much better.
Now I can sleep.
I stir awake the next morning, feeling rested for the first time in days.
My relaxed state lasts all of a second before I open my eyes and meet a pair of blue ones already watching me.
“I… um… good morning,” I stammer, having been caught in the act of sleeping in her room.
“Is it?” She cocks an eyebrow, her arms folded over her chest.
I turn to the window, the sun already high, greeting the day.
“Looks like a fine morning to me.”
“He jokes,” she scowls.
Cazzo. Why is Anna able to make me feel so unworthy with one single glare? I’ve entered rooms with dozens of capos and instantly made them quake with fear. But Anna? It’s like she knows exactly what to say to make me question everything I do.
“I should leave you to it,” I mutter, picking up my pillow and making a quick getaway.
“I don’t understand you,” I hear her say behind me, forcing me to turn around. “I’ve tried to. I’m still trying to. But…” She shrugs, as if I were some puzzle she can’t quite figure out. “You’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I can’t help but ask.
“I’m not sure. Just not… you.” She holds my gaze, then lets out a breath. “Any news from my father? When will I be going home?”
I square my shoulders and take a step toward her. “I told you. You are home.”
“This isn’t my home. This will never be my home,” she says, her voice cold, devoid of its usual softness.
I offer her no response, since none of what I say will be something she wants to hear. Instead, I just walk away, and thankfully, Anna doesn’t try to stop me this time.
After another quick shower, I get dressed and head downstairs for my morning coffee. I find my mother already in the kitchen with my brother, Raffaele, seated beside her at the table.
“Good morning, figlio mio,” she greets, though her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my gaze bouncing between my mother and my brother, since both looked troubled.
“It’s Anna,” Raffaele explains. “She hasn’t eaten a thing since she got here. Apparently, she’s on a hunger strike until you take her back to Chicago.”
“Excuse me?!” I snap, anger flaring. “How am I only hearing about this now?”
“You’ve been busy,” Raffaele says with a sardonic grin. “All those pats on the back from the other Dons for a job well done must’ve kept you from noticing what’s going on in your own house.”
“Raffaele,” my mother interjects, “don’t be so unkind to your brother. It isn’t his fault his fiancée isn’t eating. I should have encouraged her more.”
“No, Mom,” I shake my head. “This isn’t on you. Rafe is right. Everything that has to do with Anna falls on me.”
As I try to think of a way to get Anna to break this idiotic hunger strike, my thoughts land on the brother who still despises me.
“You talk to her. She’ll listen to you.”
Raffaele’s eyes widen, like they might actually fall out of his skull.
“You’re shitting me right now, right?!”
My mother flinches at the disgust in his voice, and I scowl at him.
“Language,” I scold.
To his credit, he’s quick to apologize to our mother.
“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just… what Matteo is asking… Well, I won’t do it.” He pushes his chair back, already moving to leave.
“Rafe, I’m talking to you,” I say softly, careful not to trigger our mother, but he hears the threat in my voice regardless.
“I said no, Matteo,” he snaps, aggravated.
“You once told me the reason for my induction was so no innocent would ever suffer at the hands of evil men. And yet, you forced me to hand-deliver you the one pure soul who should have never been tainted by our world, much less your unworthy hands. You have your prize now, Matteo. You deal with the repercussions of your choices.” But then he pauses at the doorway, his back still turned to me.
“Besides, if there is one person she hates more than you, it’s me.
I wouldn’t be able to help, even if I wanted to. ”
I stand in the middle of the kitchen, knowing there’s truth in his words. Anna will never trust Raffaele again. Not after such a betrayal.
“Cazzo,” I mutter under my breath. “Sorry, Mom.”
“No need to apologize. The situation you find yourself in is not an easy one.”
“No. It’s not.” I drag a hand over my face.
Anna needs to eat. She needs to. I misjudged how stubborn she could be. Fuck my life.
“I was just about to take this tray up. Maybe you can be more persuasive?” my mother says, handing me a tray with slices of toast, fresh fruit, yogurt, and orange juice.
“Oh, I’ll be persuasive, all right,” I mutter, grabbing the tray from her hands and heading for the third floor.
If she thinks I’m going to let her wither away, she has another thing coming.
When I reach her room, Anna is no longer in bed. I set the tray on her nightstand and go looking for her, only to find her finishing brushing her teeth in the bathroom.
“I know you like to watch me for some reason, Matteo, but this is starting to get out of hand,” she admonishes, already reaching for the door to slam it in my face.
I don’t give her the chance. I grab her wrist and haul her back into the room. She doesn’t say a word as I sit and pull her onto my lap, grabbing the yogurt and a spoon.
“You will eat, Anna. Under my roof, you will eat what is brought to you. Understand?”
I raise the spoon to her mouth, but she turns her head away.
“Anna, for the love of God, don’t test me on this.”
“You can’t force me. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to.”
“You don’t get a choice,” I bite out. “You’re the hostage here, remember?”
“Ha.” She lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m no more a hostage than you are a kidnapper.”
“You think I’m bluffing?”
“Yes.”
“Anna—”
“Matteo!”
Argh! God, this woman!
If she were anyone else, I would have already forced every last spoonful of yogurt down her throat. She’d have my fingerprints on her chin from the effort.
Still, she isn’t anyone else. She’s the woman I love. So I can’t fucking do that, now can I?
If force won’t work, then there’s only one tactic left—fear.
“Your father is flying into New York tonight.” Her gaze lifts to mine, a spark of hope breaking through. “Shall I welcome him into my city with bullets? Or should I have my spies in Chicago plant a bomb on his plane and blow him up midair?”
Anna clutches my shirt and pulls me closer. “Don’t… don’t hurt him,” she begs, her lashes beginning to glisten. The sight, paired with the desperation in her voice, feels like a punch to the gut.
“Then don’t test me. Eat.” She stares into my eyes, all her earlier bravado gone.
“There you are,” she says softly, letting go of my shirt.
“I knew you were there somewhere. You almost had me fooled. But this… this is the Matteo I knew you were hiding all along.” Her voice turns colder.
“And how I hate you.” Her words land like small cuts, forcing me to swallow the lump in my throat.
“I can feed myself, thank you very much,” she snaps, and when she rises from my lap, I make no move to stop her. “Get out.”
“No,” I reply, though there’s no real heat behind it.
“I said, get out, Matteo! I don’t want to see your face ever again!”
I clench my fists at my sides, lowering my head so I don’t have to see the hatred in her eyes.
“I’m staying right here. I need to make sure you eat.”
“Fine. Whatever. But I don’t have to see your face while I do it.”
Anna grabs the tray and walks to the other side of the room. She settles into the same armchair I slept in the night before, turning it toward the window so her back faces me. I remain rooted in place, watching as she eats everything on the tray.
At least I got her to eat. But this doesn’t feel like much of a victory. It feels like death.