Chapter 23 Maddie
I knock on Sarah and Jessica's hotel room door at nine the next morning, carrying coffee and pastries from the café down the street as a peace offering for last night's tension at the villa.
"Room service!" I call out.
Jessica opens the door wearing the hotel's fluffy white bathrobe, her hair in a messy bun. "Maddie! Perfect timing. Sarah's in the shower plotting her next interrogation, but I'm caffeinated and ready to hear everything."
She grabs the coffee and pulls me into their suite. The room is gorgeous, marble surfaces, sea views, French doors opening onto a private terrace. Their suitcases have exploded across every surface.
"This place is incredible," I say.
"Definitely nicer than we could afford on our own," Jessica says. "Yeah, we figured that out. Your boyfriend has expensive taste."
"It's complicated with him," I say automatically.
"You keep saying that." She settles onto the bed with her coffee. "Want to explain what's actually complicated about it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty simple. Hot Italian guy with a villa and mysterious business interests has swept you off your feet."
Before I can answer, Sarah emerges from the bathroom already dressed in jeans and a white shirt that's somehow perfectly pressed.
"Morning, Maddie." She accepts coffee with the desperate gratitude of someone who needs caffeine to function. "Sleep well?"
"Fine."
"At Enzo’s villa?"
The question is pointed. I stayed there last night after dinner, per Enzo's orders, but I hadn't mentioned that.
"How did you know that?"
"Your car wasn't at your house this morning."
My stomach drops. "You went to my house?"
"Tried to. Finally got a taxi to drive me. The road's blocked. Construction vehicles everywhere, warning signs about electrical hazards." She takes a sip of coffee, studying me over the rim.
Franco must have worked through the night to stage the scene. "The construction is a mess," I say weakly.
Jessica looks between us. "Okay, what's happening here?"
"What's happening," Sarah says, not breaking eye contact with me, "is that Maddie's boyfriend is controlling our entire visit. Where we stay, where we go, who drives us, and now apparently doing major construction to keep us away from her house."
"That's not true! Why would he do that?"
"Don't." Sarah's voice is sharp. "Don't lie to me, Maddie. We've been friends for eight years. I know when you're lying."
The room goes quiet except for the distant sound of church bells.
"I did more research on him last night," Sarah continues. "Why does every business record I can find only go back about seven years? Like his entire professional history has been cleaned up?"
"He’s a very private person."
"Or maybe he's exactly what he appears to be. Someone with enough money and power to control an entire fucking village."
"You're being paranoid."
"Am I? His house has more security than most embassies. The restaurant staff treated him like visiting royalty. He has drivers who double as bodyguards. That's not normal business practice, Maddie."
"This is Sicily. Things are different here."
"How?"
I struggle for an explanation that doesn't confirm her suspicions. "It's more traditional. Hierarchical. Successful people are respected."
"Feared," Sarah corrects. "The waiters weren't respectful. They were afraid of him. I could see fear in their eyes."
She's right, and we both know it.
"What exactly are you implying?" I ask.
"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating facts. Your boyfriend exhibits all the characteristics of someone involved in organized crime. He’s fucking Mafia, Maddie! You’re involved with the mob."
"Don't." The word comes out harder than I intended. "Don't say it."
"Why not? Because it's not true, or because you don't want to hear it?"
Jessica sets down her coffee carefully. "Guys, maybe we should talk about this another time?"
"I need to know she's safe," Sarah interrupts. "I need to know our best friend isn't in danger. Is that too much to ask?"
"I'm not in danger, I promise."
"How can you be sure?"
Because the only people who've actually threatened me have been taken care of, courtesy of Enzo. Whatever that means. But I can't say that.
"I just know," I say instead.
Sarah rolls her eyes. "That's not good enough."
"It has to be."
Sarah stands up, pacing to the terrace doors. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound like every woman who's ever been in a controlling or abusive relationship. 'It's complicated.' 'You don't understand.' 'I just know.'"
"This isn't a controlling relationship."
"Maddie, stop! He literally controls where we go and who we talk to! He’s controlling you and your house. Probably your car too! Are you even allowed to drive? Why aren’t you driving us around instead of Antonio?"
"He's being protective."
"Of what? What does he think we're going to see or learn that requires this level of management?"
Everything.
"Can you just trust me?" I ask. "Please? I know you're worried, but I need you to trust that I can handle my own life. For once in my life."
"I did trust you," Sarah says. "When you said you were buying a house in Sicily. When you said you'd met someone. When you said everything was wonderful. But now I'm here, and nothing is what you described."
"What did you expect?"
"I expected my friend to be living her best life in a charming Italian village. Not... this. Whatever this is."
"This is my life," I say. "It might not be what you expected, but it's mine."
"Is it? Because it seems like everything about your life is controlled by him. Where you live, who you see, what you can tell us about your life."
"That's not true."
"Then why can't we see your house? Why can't we explore the village freely? Why do you look terrified every time I ask about his business?"
Because all of those things would reveal truths that would put you in danger, I think but don't say.
"Look," Jessica intervenes, "we're not trying to attack you, Maddie. We're just worried. This whole situation feels intense. The vibes are weird."
"Intense isn't necessarily bad," I say.
"It is when it involves this level of secrecy and control," Sarah counters.
“If you’re dead set on seeing the house today, even though it’s a huge mess, we can go,” I say. “Franco will be there."
"Oh, I definitely want to see this famous house you won for one euro," Sarah says, studying me over her coffee cup.
"We can go as soon as you get ready. Franco will explain all the restoration work."
Jessica looks between us. "Is it really as bad as you made it sound?"
"It was in pretty rough shape, but the renovations are making a huge difference. New electrical, plumbing, the works. It’s almost livable now."
"Funded by your complicated not-boyfriend?" Sarah asks.
"Only partially. It's a business arrangement. Part of the tourism development project."
"Right. The tourism project." Sarah's tone suggests she doesn't buy it.
"After a tour of the house, we’ll go to lunch," I say. "There's a great place at the marina."
"Sounds perfect," Jessica says. "I want to see everything, your house, the village, where you spend your time."
"It's not exactly exciting," I warn. "Monte Vento is tiny."
"But charming, right?" Jessica asks hopefully.
"Very charming. And Enzo will join us for lunch.”
"Another supervised outing?"
"No, it’s meant to be another nice meal with my...with Enzo."
"You were going to say boyfriend," Jessica notes. "Why won't you just call him your boyfriend? What’s the big deal about it?"
Because I don't know exactly what we are.
I owe him a debt, and apparently, I’m a problem of his to manage. Whether that makes him my boyfriend seems like the least important question.
"It's complicated," I repeat with a laugh.
Sarah throws up her hands. "Everything's complicated with you now."
"I'm sorry I'm not the simple, uncomplicated friend you remember."
"That's not what I meant—"
"Isn't it? You came here expecting to find the old Maddie, living some Instagram-perfect life. But that's not reality. Reality is messy and complex and sometimes scary."
"Are you admitting it's scary?"
I hadn't meant to say that.
"Life is scary," I deflect. “Especially when you move to a new country all alone.”
"Your life doesn't have to be. It certainly wasn’t scary before you came to Sicily.”
"Maybe I'm okay with a little fear if it comes with everything else."
"Everything else being what? A house you can't live in? A boyfriend you can't be honest about? A life you can't share with your best friends?"
Each point hits like a small wound.
"You don't understand," I say quietly.
"Then help us understand. Please, Maddie. We love you. Tell us the truth."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
The admission hangs between us. Sarah's face shifts from frustration to genuine concern.
"Maddie, if you're in trouble—"
"I'm not in trouble."
"If you want to leave—"
"I don't want to leave."
"Even though you can't tell us the truth about what's happening here?"
They both stare at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have.
"The car's waiting," I say. "Are you coming with me or not?"
Sarah and Jessica exchange a look, one of those wordless conversations that old friends can have.
"Of course, we're coming," Sarah says finally. "But this conversation isn't over."
"I know."
As we head downstairs, I wonder how many more meals we'll share where I pretend everything is normal while they pretend to believe me. Two more days of this careful dance, this performance of friendship that skirts around the truth.
Two more days of lying to the people who know me best.
Antonio waits by the car, professional and silent. As we get in, I catch him texting someone, probably Enzo, reporting that he's acquired us.
"The marina is beautiful," I tell my friends, trying for normal conversation. "Great seafood, beautiful views. Just try to enjoy our day. Please?"
"We'll try," Jessica says, squeezing my hand. "But Maddie? We're not going to stop worrying about you just because you ask us to."
"I know."
"And we're not going to pretend everything's fine when it's clearly not."
"I know that too."
"What do you want from us?"
I think about it as Antonio drives us through the winding streets. What do I want from my best friends, who've flown across an ocean to see me?
"I want you to trust that I'm making my own choices," I say finally. "Even if you don't understand them. Even if they scare you."
"That's asking a lot," Sarah says. “Especially when you won't tell us what those choices actually are."
"I know."
We ride the rest of the way in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.