Chapter 9
NINE
Lucia
A cool breeze drifts through the open window, rustling the trees outside and brushing against my heated skin. It’s past midnight and I’m still awake, rocking slowly in the chair by the window, lost in thought.
Two weeks have passed since Don Fernando’s accident. He’s still in the hospital, out of his coma, but the doctors say he’ll never be the same. Almost his entire body is paralyzed, and the brain damage is irreversible.
No one seems to care. No one except Carlo.
Carmen is still lost in her own world—shopping, laughing, pretending nothing happened. Brando runs the casino as usual and, from what I’ve heard, has only visited his father at the hospital once. And Tony… Tony hasn’t returned since the day he left.
Carlo is the only one falling apart. I’ve only seen him once in these two weeks, coming out of his father’s office. For the first time, I saw that strong man bowed under the weight of grief.
The bond between Carlo and Don Fernando went beyond that of father and son. They were like a master and disciple, bound by mutual respect and loyalty. And now, because of something as silly as a truck with failed brakes, Carlo has lost his greatest supporter and role model.
Tony hasn’t come tonight either. But when I returned to my room, the flash drive was waiting on my desk. He gave me the money. Payment for his whore.
The tear I’ve been fighting for so long finally escapes, rolling down my cheek.
I feel so worthless—weak, easy, always giving in to him. I hate myself for how my heart races every time I see him, despite knowing the vile truth of who he is. It breaks me that he doesn’t love me. That he’ll never see me as anything but his whore.
And yet, fear paralyzes me. Fear of the day Carlo finds out my secret, fear of the consequences of the sin I’m committing.
I’m a woman betraying her husband. A disgrace of a wife who can’t say no to the man she loves, a man who sees her as nothing but a prostitute.
If my mother were still alive, I know she’d be ashamed of me.
The sound of the door opening pulls me out of my racing thoughts, my heart skipping a beat. I release the breath I hold when I see Nonna, and I quickly wipe my tears away.
She turns on the light and her eyes immediately find my swollen, red ones. She’s wearing her black robe, her face paler than usual.
I force a smile and walk toward her. “Couldn’t sleep, Nonna?”
She looks at me with eyes full of sorrow, sighs deeply, and sinks onto the couch.
“I had a bad dream.”
I sit beside her, taking her frail hand into mine.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
Her blue eyes meet mine—cold, distant, as if the light in them went out years ago.
“I dreamed about the people I loved and lost. My mother, my love, and your mother.”
Hearing her mention of my mother makes my throat tighten. Before the tears can fall, I lean over and rest my head on Nonna’s lap. Stretching my legs out along the couch, I enjoy her hand stroking my hair.
“I never knew you were in love with Grandfather,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re right. That bastard never knew what love was. He was a rabid dog, and I hope he’s rotting in hell.”
I tilt my head up to look at her. “So, who was the love of your life?”
Her eyes actually light up. A faint smile touches her lips, almost against her will. The hand stroking my hair pauses for a moment, radiating warmth. She’s staring straight ahead. Her body is here, but I’m certain her soul has traveled back in time.
“Pedro,” she sighs.
Even her voice is different—warmer, softer, almost young again. My heart races with excitement. The last thing I ever expected was that Nonna once carried love in her heart.
I wait eagerly for her to continue the story, but instead, she quietly rises from the couch and disappears into her room.
A few minutes later, she comes back with a photo and hands it to me. “Thank God it was in the safe and didn’t get damaged.”
I take it from her and look at it. It’s black and white, very old, with a diagonal crack across its surface.
It’s a picture of a young man wearing a white tank top, standing in the middle of a vineyard.
One arm is wrapped around the waist of a delicate, slender girl in a sundress.
Her arms are looped around his neck, her feet lifted off the ground.
They’re looking at each other—the girl laughing wholeheartedly, the boy gazing at her with a mischievous grin.
I focus on the girl, then glance back at Nonna. I can’t believe it, but it’s her.
She notices my astonishment and chuckles. “What? Did you think I’d always been some junkie old hag?”
“No, Nonna, but this…who is this man?”
She leans back against the couch, lighting a cigarette. “We grew up together in a small village. We were always side by side—first as playmates, then friends, then lovers.”
She exhales a stream of smoke, her gaze fixed ahead—lost in a place deep within her distant memories, a place I can’t reach.
“Time is a strange thing,” she murmurs. “After fifty years, I can still remember the scent of his skin, the warmth of his arms, the sound of his voice. The nights we made love under the moonlight, even the smell of the bread I used to bake for him. It’s all so vivid, like it happened just yesterday.
The pain is also just as raw. Just as unbearable. ”
I notice tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
“What happened, Nonna?” I ask softly.
“My wretched excuse for a father happened. That bastard lost me in a card game…to that pig Roberto.”
If I were a girl from a normal family, my eyes would’ve gone wide with shock. But in this world, stories like this are far too common. Roberto was my grandfather, who died years ago, even before my mother passed.
“Roberto found out we planned to run away. He burned Pedro alive, along with the vineyard.”
I gasp, clamping a hand over my mouth. I can’t stop the tears spilling down my cheeks. “Oh, Nonna!”
She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray, takes my hand, and offers me a sad smile.
“I have no regrets. If I could turn back time, knowing everything that would happen, I still wouldn’t say no to love. I wouldn’t trade the warmth of Pedro’s hands for anything in this world.”
She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m lucky, Lucia. So lucky that I found my soulmate in this lifetime, that I got to hold his hand, kiss his lips. I’m lucky I experienced what it meant to become a woman in his arms. The warmth of those kisses has kept my heart alive for fifty years.
I know he’s in heaven now. The only thing keeping me from ending my life is the hope of seeing him again, this time in a place where nothing and no one can come between us.”
I watch her, and for a moment, beneath the frail body and weathered face, I see a young woman—vibrant, full of life—trapped in this form. A woman longing for the reunion with her lost love.
I glance back at the photo, and, unbidden, the cold, dark eyes of Tony pop into my head.
“What if you love a man who doesn’t love you back?” I ask softly. “Is that kind of love still worth it?”
I tear my gaze away from the photo and meet her blue eyes. There’s a sweet smile on her face.
“If you love a man with all your heart and with pride, one day he will love you back.”
She looks at me for a moment longer, then leaves without another word, retreating to her room. She leaves me alone, but her words echo in my head until morning.
After going to my bedroom I lean back against the headboard, legs stretched out, staring at the broken pieces of the necklace Tony once gave me. The first rays of sunlight filter into the room, bathing it in a soft glow.
I think about Nonna’s words and the tragic story she shared. Her story is nothing like mine, yet it reveals a truth I can’t ignore. In the end, whether we’re rich or poor, old or new, love always outweighs honor.
***
I check my makeup one last time in the full-length mirror.
The dark eyeshadow makes my eyes look bigger, more striking.
I adjust the long lace dress and take one last look at myself.
The top is just two sheer scraps of fabric that barely cover my breasts.
Thin crisscross straps run from my lower back all the way up to my neck, barely holding the dress together.
I drape my hair over one shoulder, spray a little more perfume on my neck, and wait.
It’s the third week. I know Tony will come tonight. When I came into the room, the dress I’m wearing was already laid out on the bed. There was no note, but the message was clear—he’s on his way.
A soft click sounds behind me. My heart flutters.
It’s him, I know it. I don’t turn around.
I watch him step out of the hidden door in the wardrobe through the mirror.
As always, he looks impeccable—black hair combed back, suit perfectly tailored.
The scent of his cologne wafts through the air, as soothing and intoxicating as a forbidden drug.
His eyes light up the second he sees me in the dress.
He stops mid-step. Our gazes lock in the mirror, caught in a silent stare.
It’s hard for even me to believe, but despite being nearly naked in front of him, I don’t shy away.
His gaze is focused, intense, yet I don’t look away.
Knowing I please him sends a rush of pride through me.
Finally, he moves forward, stopping behind me. He buries his face into my neck and takes a deep breath.
“Did you miss me?” he murmurs, voice low.
Without thinking, I tilt my head to give him more access. One arm snakes around my waist, pulling me close, while the other cups my breast through the sheer fabric of my dress.
He trails wet kisses along my shoulder blade, pausing to nip gently at the curve of my shoulder. A soft moan falls from my mouth, and I murmur his name. “Tony...”
He spins me around in his arms, trapping me in the firm cage of his body. His mischievous gaze bores into mine as his voice drops to a husky, sensual tone. “First time you’ve said my name like that. I like it.”