Chapter 32
Black Widow
It’s pouring rain when we enter Rome again.
For once, I don’t hate the grey that seems to surround the city as we drive.
We’re quiet in the car as the wipers swish in the background.
I stare out my window, replaying so many moments in my head.
The day we were actually married. Getting the credit cards and seeing the paperwork.
Small moments of Leo explaining things as I had to help sign things away, because he’d already given me all control.
For months I had to pretend that I wasn’t in charge of assets worth millions. Not even Jameson knew.
Our marriage did many things, not just protecting him and I in multiple ways, or him keeping access to that much money, but it protected Raffaella and Durante’s legacy. From their own children apparently.
We pull up outside the hotel.
“Leave us,” Leo says suddenly. Owen and Rudy get out in silence as the rain taps on the roof.
At the same time, we say, “Check in.”
I smirk at him as our hands intertwine, moving closer.
“You’re the one who faced their supposed dead mother today, you first,” I say quietly.
His thumb strokes over my wrist. “Green.”
“Leo,” I say softly.
“I mourned my mother years ago. I made my peace, I’ve been to therapy, talked long hours about her, moved on. It’s been over twenty years. I don’t want to spend any more of my time chasing a ghost.”
I reach up, my hand cupping his cheek as he looks at me.
My eyes search his face, hidden under his mask I see the pain.
Buried deep and not wanting to come out, because then it’d be real.
A pain I understood in some capacity. Building a life for a certain purpose and then watching it crumble in your hands.
“You knew!”
I swallow hard, taking a deep breath. “Be honest, Leo.”
His eyes shift away, jaw muscles tightening under my palm. He then closes his eyes, breath becoming shallow as I stroke my thumb over his cheek.
“I wanted to reach out to her,” he whispers. “A part of me, that young boy, wanting his mom to hold him again. For a moment to just fall for the lies, so a long-time wish could be real. Except, that life was stolen from me.”
A tear appears in his eye, slowly falling down his cheek. He blinks, bringing his gaze back to me as he touches my hand. “How much did you understand from her explanation?”
“Not much at all.”
“Renato and Fiorella helped fake Giovanna’s death, pretending that she got cancer.
Her casket in the U.S. is empty after they tricked my father with a body double.
He swore he’d never walk on Italy’s shores again, so it was easy to hide her here.
She said she left because of how violent my father became, which is true, but she wasn’t my father’s only victim. She knew that.”
My stomach twists as he admits a piece of his past. I had guessed that Riccardo likely hurt Leo or Gabriel growing up, but he never quite confirmed it. Until now.
“He mostly calmed when he met Angelina, Matteo’s mother,” Leo says. “She was young and a spitfire, even if she didn’t care for Gabriel or me, but she stayed.” His eyes become downcast. “In Giovanna’s entire explanation, there wasn’t a single apology for leaving her children behind.”
“It won’t change anything, and it’s not me you deserve to hear it from, but I’m sorry, Leo. I’m so sorry.”
He tugs me over, and I climb onto his lap to hug him fully. His arms wrap around me as I cradle his head against me. Rain pounds upon the top of the vehicle. Leo reaches up, clutching the back of my head.
“When we get home,” he says roughly. “I want you to take over the Italian Lily. It’s become more yours than anyone else’s now.”
I pull back to look at him. The meaning behind his words, weighing heavy in knowing why that hotel was built.
It was to his heritage itself, but also to her and his grandmother.
I muster up a faint smile, and nod. But then I hold his face between my hands and speak to him tenderly as he’s done with me.
“I will replace every touch that has wronged you, any part of your body and soul will be replaced by my love for you, my dear Leo.” Hazel eyes soften.
“Where there was pain, there will be pleasure; where there was fear, there will be comfort. I promise with everything that I have, body and soul, my dear husband. We will make it out of this mess alive, and together.”
My statement is soft, almost too soft against the rain falling.
He takes my hands, bringing them down between us. Leo kisses my neck, my jaw, and my cheeks while speaking between each kiss.
“We will ride together. Dance in ballrooms. I’ll show you California.
I’ll show you London, Paris, wherever you want.
We’ll have cereal for dinner. Watch movies late at night.
Memorize the contours of each other’s bodies.
” He comes to my lips, and murmurs against them.
“We will live, Autumn. For every moment they stole from us.”
I kiss him affectionately. His breath hitches as he holds me in the quiet as the rain falls.
“I love you, my dear Watson.”
“I love you. You can mourn her, again. It’s okay.”
He shakes his head. “When all of this is over. When we’re home again, then I’ll grieve what was lost. Until then, it’s making sure we return.” He kisses my nose. “You didn’t answer the check in.”
I chuckle, willing to wait until we get home to help him move on. “Green, mister.”
He nods, kissing my cheek and then pats for me to get off as he goes to open the door.
“Honestly, neither of them were that scary,” I admit, and he pauses. I shrug. “Know five mafia bosses who are way scarier.”
“Am I one?”
“Oh, yeah terrifying. But Al Pacino tops the list.” He raises a brow. “Survived all Godfather movies and there’s Scarface.”
“No more mobster movies for you.” He smirks. I gape in mock horror, glad to see a little joy on his face as we get out into the rain. We rush into the hotel from the downpour as we enter the lobby.
Owen approaches, walking out of the lounge of the hotel. Igor, Michael, and Rudy all stand at the entrance with frowns. Aurelio rushes over, murmuring to Leo and I watch his eyes slide towards the lounge.
“How long?” Leo asks.
“Hour or so,” Owen answers as Aurelio steps away to greet some other guests coming in from the rain. “Bartender says he’s been quiet and paid for everything but won’t stop smoking.”
Speaking of mafia bosses.
“Be prepared to shut down the lounge,” Leo mutters to Owen, taking my hand as he leads us to the lounge.
Leo strides past our guards. There’s barely anyone in the lavish, comfy space. The main bar is empty, apart from one bartender who cleans glasses and flicks their gaze to a section of chairs facing each other. A tendril of smoke comes up from the chair facing away.
“Not Al Pacino,” he grumbles, walking us over. There are some patrons, sipping their late afternoon aperitif.
We come around the chair, finding Vincenzo Renaldi grinning smugly as he lounges back in the red leather seat.
He blows a puff of smoke, and I clear my throat from the smell.
He wears a white, silk dress shirt paired with an embroidered suit jacket, the lapels encrusted with gems. New necklaces hang from his neck, along with several rings.
“Buongiorno, Luciano. Your hotel services are excellent as always. Class act.”
“No smoking,” Leo replies gruffly.
“Scuse.” He finishes the cigarette, flicking it into his empty glass. He then makes a show of wiping his hands off.
“Matteo still alive?” Leo abruptly asks, expression strict.
“Sí, I keep my promises.” Vincenzo leans back in his seat. “I am here because I come with information that I found interesting, and well…” his eyes move to me, smiling, “…how can I refuse an opportunity to potentially make the deal of the century?”
A shift happens over Leo as he slides his hand to the nape of my neck protectively. Coiled tension ripples over his body. Vincenzo likely isn’t here to truly start something, but his presence is still unnerving, coming straight into a lion’s den by himself.
“Go to our room,” Leo murmurs to me.
As I start to leave, Vincenzo says, “Oh, no Luciano, it’s your wife I think I should have this conversation with.”
“Careful, Renaldi,” Leo warns. “I’ve had a long day, and my patience is thin especially regarding her.”
“Remember? I like her.” He looks at me, still smiling. “Even to help keep secrets I’ve just learned of. And perhaps help me understand why body parts were sent to me for confirmation of them.”
I glance at Leo, who meets my gaze briefly.
Vincenzo moves his attention to Leo. “Your brother, Gabriel, contacted me. I thought he wanted Matteo, and I was curious to how much he would outbid you, so I humored him. But no…it seems Gabriel doesn’t care what happens with your little brother. Poor ragazzo, can’t catch a break, eh?”
We remain silent as Vincenzo takes his time finishing his cocktail that doesn’t have a butt in it. He licks his lips, putting it back when he finishes. He’s definitely one for dramatics, and slowly reminding me of an Arkham villain I never wanted to meet in real life.
“What did Gabriel want, Vincenzo?”
Vincenzo’s face pulls together in thought.
“He brought forth some information, but I didn’t believe him with his history of lying, you see.” He cocks his head, looking up at Leo. “Until he sent me papers. Papers wrapped around body parts, like fresh steak from the meat markets, of a headless polizia.”
Fucking crud muffins. Found Roger.
“Your older brother is twisted, Luciano.”
“I know.”
“Worse than I remember. Perhaps it was that short time in prison.” Vincenzo then looks at me, and my stomach drops. “Which you’re to blame for, aren’t you, Sarah Marie?”
Leo didn’t want to chase his ghosts, but I kind of wanted to blast mine in the head.
I think I’ve become more violent of late.