Chapter 27 #2
"Out of my room?" She laughs weakly. "Neither did I until about ten minutes ago. First time in... I don't even know how many days. I lost count somewhere around day four of staring at the same ceiling."
Gianna moves closer to me. "Is she sick?"
Nora's eyes shift to my sister. She studies Gianna for a moment, then looks back at me with a question in her expression.
"This is my sister Gianna," I explain. "She's staying with us for a while. Gianna, this is Nora. Pietro's wife."
"Oh." Gianna's brow furrows. "Are you okay? You look really tired."
"Gianna," I warn.
"No, she's right." Nora waves a hand. "I look like death warmed over. I've seen mirrors. I know what I'm working with here."
"But why?" Gianna presses. "Are you sick?"
Nora and I exchange a glance.
"I'm pregnant," Nora says.
Gianna's eyes go wide. "Oh! Congratulations!"
"Thank you." Nora's smile turns wry. "Though I'm starting to think this baby got more Sartori DNA than anything else, because it's making my life a living hell."
I burst out laughing.
The sound escapes before I can stop it. Loud and genuine and completely unexpected. Nora grins at me, and for a moment she looks less exhausted. Less gray.
"I'm serious," she continues. "Morning sickness that lasts all day. Food aversions to literally everything I used to love. I threw up just from smelling coffee yesterday. Coffee, Antonella. The love of my life. Gone."
"That's terrible."
"It's criminal is what it is." Nora sighs dramatically. "Pietro keeps trying to help, but there's only so much a man can do when his wife is actively dying from the inside out."
Gianna looks horrified. "Is pregnancy always like this?"
"God, I hope not." Nora shudders. "If it is, I'm never doing this again. One Sartori kid is enough."
I study Nora's face. Behind the jokes and the dramatic complaints, I can see something else. Loneliness. Isolation. She's been trapped in her room for days, too sick to move, too exhausted to do anything but survive.
"Do you want some company?" I ask.
Nora's expression shifts.
Her eyes go bright. Wet. She blinks rapidly, and I realize she's fighting back tears.
"Yes." Her voice cracks on the word. "Please. I've been going crazy in that room by myself. Pietro tries, but he has work, and I can't expect him to sit with me all day while I complain about crackers making me nauseous."
"Then sit with us." I gesture toward the comfortable chairs by the window. "Gianna was just telling me about everything happening at home. You can listen and pretend you're somewhere other than this compound."
Nora nods. She opens her mouth to respond.
"Nora."
Pietro's voice cuts across the room.
I turn to see him striding toward us. His face is tight with concern, his eyes locked on his wife like she might collapse at any moment.
"What are you doing out of bed?" He reaches her in three long steps and pulls her into his arms. "You should have called me. I would have come to you."
"I needed to move." Nora's voice is muffled against his chest. "I was going insane staring at those walls."
Pietro pulls back just enough to look at her face. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently under her eye.
"Do you need anything? Water? Food? Should I call the doctor?"
"I need people." Nora's voice wavers. "I need to talk to someone who isn't you or the ceiling or my own thoughts."
Pietro's expression softens. He looks at me over Nora's head, and something passes between us. Gratitude, maybe. Understanding.
"Stay with her," he says. "Please. She needs—"
"I know." I nod. "We're not going anywhere."
Pietro nods. He presses a kiss to Nora's forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, then releases her.
"I'll be in my office if you need anything." His eyes move to me. "Thank you, Antonella."
"Of course."
He leaves. His footsteps echo down the hallway, fading until the library falls silent again.
Gianna waits approximately three seconds before pouncing.
"So how did you two meet?" She bounces on her heels, her earlier exhaustion forgotten. "You and Pietro, I mean. Was it romantic? Did he sweep you off your feet? Oh my God, was there a proposal? Tell me there was a proposal."
Nora blinks at the rapid-fire questions. She looks at me with raised eyebrows.
"She's enthusiastic about love stories," I explain.
"I can see that."
"I believe in true love," Gianna says firmly. "And soulmates. And happily ever afters. Antonella thinks I'm naive, but I don't care. Romance is real and beautiful and I want to hear every detail."
I don't think she's naive.
I think she's hopeful in a way I've forgotten how to be. She still believes in fairy tales, in princes and princesses and love conquering all. The world hasn't beaten that out of her yet.
I love her for it.
I hope nothing ever changes that.
Nora studies my sister with an expression I can't quite read. Something soft crosses her face. Something almost wistful.
"You want to hear how Pietro and I ended up together?"
"Yes." Gianna nods vigorously. "Every single detail. Don't leave anything out."
Nora laughs. The sound is tired but genuine.
"Okay." She gestures toward the chairs by the window. "But we're going to need to sit down for this. And order something to drink. Because this story?" She shakes her head slowly. "This story is going to be a long one."
We settle into the chairs. The leather is soft and worn, molded by years of use. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting warm patterns across the hardwood floor.
Gianna curls up in her chair like a cat, tucking her legs beneath her. Her eyes are bright with anticipation.
I sit across from Nora, watching her face. She looks better already. Less gray. Less isolated. Having people around her seems to be helping.
"Should I call for tea?" I ask. "Or coffee? Well, maybe not coffee."
Nora grimaces. "Definitely not coffee. The smell alone would send me running for the bathroom." She pauses, considering. "Tea would be nice. Something herbal. Ginger. It's the only thing that settles my stomach anymore."
I rise and move to the small intercom panel near the door. Giulia showed me how to use it during my first week here. I press the button and request tea service for three, specifying ginger for Nora.
When I return to my seat, Gianna is already leaning forward.
"So?" she prompts. "How did it start? Did you meet at a party? A business event? Oh, did he rescue you from something dangerous?"
Nora's lips twitch. "Something like that."
"Really?" Gianna's eyes go wide. "Tell me everything."
Nora settles deeper into her chair. She pulls the oversized cardigan tighter around her shoulders, and for a moment she looks very young. Very tired. Very human.
"I wasn't supposed to be here," she begins. "In Chicago, I mean. I was running from something. Someone. My past caught up with me in ways I never expected, and I needed to disappear."
Gianna is completely still. Hanging on every word.
"I got a job," Nora continues. "As a secretary I walked into that office thinking I was starting over. Building a new life. Instead, I walked straight into Pietro Sartori's world."
"Was it love at first sight?" Gianna asks breathlessly.
Nora laughs. "God, no. It was hate at first sight. Or at least, intense mutual irritation."
"What?"
"He was arrogant." Nora's voice takes on a fond edge. "Demanding. Impossible to please. He barked orders like I was supposed to read his mind, and when I didn't, he looked at me like I was the stupidest person he'd ever met."
I find myself leaning forward too. I've never heard this story. Never thought to ask.
"So what changed?" I ask.
Nora's expression shifts. Something deeper moves behind her eyes.
"He saved my life."
The words hang in the air.
Gianna makes a small sound. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth.
"My past," Nora says quietly. "The thing I was running from. It found me. And Pietro..." She pauses. Swallows.
A soft knock interrupts us.
One of the household staff enters with a tea tray. She sets it on the low table between our chairs, arranging cups and a steaming pot with practiced efficiency. The scent of ginger fills the air.
"Thank you," I say.
She nods and withdraws.
I pour tea for all three of us. Nora wraps her hands around her cup like she's drawing warmth from it, even though the room isn't cold.
"That's so romantic," Gianna breathes. "He saved your life. Like a real-life prince."
Nora smiles.