29. Vivi
VIVI
Idon’t know what to say. I never expected to be back here, to see this village again. And now Gio has brought me here and is asking all sorts of questions…
Ever since I told him about Millie and her mom, there’s been a palpable shift in our relationship. A connection that has taken us from battlefield opponents to something closer to allies.
And then, after what happened on his suite terrace… Good lord.
I didn’t think my body could feel that way, let alone with another person. The tension and excitement, the release and joy. I loved how Gio touched me, how he made me feel. Beautiful and decadent and worthy.
And I loved touching him. Even in my relatively ignorant state, I know stroking him like that barely puts a dent in the things I can do to make him feel good.
And I want to. God, how I want to. I can still hear the guttural groan he made as I touched him, feel the adoration he was helpless to contain as he kissed me and came hard against my hand.
As much as I wanted to marry Tino, I didn’t have a clue what it meant to be in a relationship. I had no reference for what a partnership or passion would actually feel like.
Now, with Gio, I’m starting to get a taste. A tempting glimmer that’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying. A fraction of what a skydiver must feel before they hurl themselves out of a plane, reveling in the fall while praying their parachute doesn’t fail.
I’m that skydiver. My parachute is on, and I’m inching toward the open door of the plane.
I know the jump is coming—the rush, the adrenaline, the joy.
And I’m facing the irrevocable fact that once I hurl myself out of the plane, there’s no going back.
I’ve been getting closer and closer, one step then another, to the jump.
The moment when my marriage to Gio actually starts to feel like a marriage.
At least that’s what I thought, until now.
I don’t understand why he’s brought me here. Why my accident two years ago has anything to do with us—or the secrets he’s still hiding.
I look at my husband.
He’s as stupidly gorgeous as ever, the threads of grey in his hair catching the sunlight and the tan stretch of skin revealed by his open collar even more tempting now that I know what it tastes like.
His eyes are shielded by reflective aviator sunglasses; it’s impossible for me to get any hint of what’s going on in those dark eyes.
I’m about to ask if this is really necessary when I catch a reflection in his glasses. A man I’ve never seen before.
Startled, I turn. Gio puts a calming hand on my shoulder, telegraphing it’s all right. The man is a friend, not a foe.
Gio addresses him. “Valentin. Thank you for coming.”
“Pazhalusta.” The man nods at me. “Is this…?”
“Si. Alik, allow me to introduce my wife. Signora Viviana Marchetti.”
Alik says something in Russian as he shakes my hand.
His palm is broad, his skin cool. He towers above me, but not quite as much as Giovanni.
Like Gio, he’s dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and exudes an energy that should really come with a warning label.
Lethal, like my husband, but more precariously coiled.
Like a lion just waiting for a reason to attack.
Formalities over, Gio, Alik, and Vampa share a look before Gio ushers me forward. The main thoroughfare of Sant’Angelo is quiet. Little car or foot traffic, nothing to distract me from the discomfort congealing in my abdomen.
The closer we get to the cafe, the more painfully my stomach cramps. “How did you know the accident happened here?” My voice sounds miles away. “Did Father tell you that, too?”
Gio’s only answer is a noncommittal nod. One large palm settles on my lower back. “We don’t need to stay long, Viviana. Only long enough for you to tell us what happened.”
“Us? You mean all three of you?” I look between the men, more confused than ever. “Why do Vampa and Alik need to know?”
The moment was pivotal in my life, but the ramifications were entirely personal. I was the one who got injured. It was my return to the US that got postponed, my wedding along with it. Why would any of that matter to Gio’s underboss and the Russian?
“Sant’Angelo falls within Marchetti jurisdiction,” Gio answers.
“Vampa and I always pay attention to events—accidents or otherwise—that take place within our territory. There was some unusual activity in this village that day. We’ve heard different versions.
We just want to know what you remember. What you saw and did the day of your accident, see if it helps us clarify a few things. You were here, sì?”
“Yes. I was here.” I nod at the Russian. “And Alik? He needs to know this too?” I mean, how many people need to hear how foolish I was when it came to Tino? It’s humiliating.
I’m looking at Gio, but Alik answers first. “I’m a friend of your husband’s, Signora. We’ve helped each other in the past, covered each other’s backs more than once.”
A comically irritated look passes over Gio’s face. “If by ‘cover each other’s backs’ you mean I saved your ass, then yes. That’s true.”
“Such a stickler for details, Marchetti. Da. That’s exactly what I mean.” Alik smiles at me. “I’m here to help, Signora, not judge. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. Ya obeshchayu.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find it very interesting, but…okay. Fine.” I clasp my hands in front of me. “What do you want to know?”
“Just start at the beginning, bella. Why were you in the village that day?”
“Tino brought me.”
The instant I say his name, a ripple of awareness moves through the men. Yet another thing I don’t understand. I don’t think Vampa knows who Tino is. Alik definitely doesn’t.
“Valori was the reason you were in Sant’Angelo that morning?” Gio repeats.
“Yes. He was taking me out to breakfast. To celebrate.”
“Celebrate?” asks Alik. “Celebrate what?”
“Our engagement.”
Gio mutters something under his breath. It doesn’t sound very nice.
Across the street, an older couple strolls out of the cafe. Their arms are linked, their heads close together in conversation. Melancholy twists through my ribs, sneaking up on me so fast I’m not prepared for it. Or the self-recrimination that comes fast on its heels.
I walked into that same cafe with Tino two years ago, dreaming about the future we were going to have together. Dreaming about growing old together like the couple across the street. I was so sure we were in love. That we would be in love for the rest of our lives.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. More stupid.
“Bella? Vivi, are you okay?” Gio crouches, his face level with mine. He’s taken off his sunglasses, concern warming his dark eyes.
“I’m fine,” I answer curtly, not wanting to spend more time talking about this than necessary.
“Tino brought me to the cafe to celebrate our engagement. It was a surprise, and a huge deal. The nuns never let me out of the convent. I’d been stuck inside those walls for eight years.
But Tino had arranged an exception for that morning.
A private breakfast for two. I thought it was the sweetest gesture. ”
I thought he really loved me.
I dismiss the thought, refusing to dwell. “It was really early in the morning. The cafe hadn’t opened to the public yet. Tino made special arrangements with the owner so that we were the first ones in. We had the whole place to ourselves. It was?—”
No, they don’t need to know what it was like. How happy I was, how blind. It can’t possibly be relevant to them. “We had breakfast. Tino said he had to pop out to get something. A gift he wanted to get me. He left the cafe. I stayed.”
Gio finds one of my hands. Laces our fingers together. “Then what?”
Beside me, Vampa shifts. From the corner of my eye, I can see him glaring at the place where Gio and I are touching.
I ignore him, continue. “Tino told me to wait for him.”
“Did you?” Gio asks.
“Yes,” I confirm. “At first. Until I saw his bag on the sidewalk, near the curb. He’d left it out there. I figured he’d dropped it, that he was probably looking for it. So I left the cafe, picked up the bag, and went after him.”
“Oddio,” Gio murmurs.
Vampa grunts, more emotion in that sound than I’d ever heard from him before.
Alik stays silent, his ice blue eyes moving between us, absorbing every detail.
Gio’s full attention is on the cafe across the street. He seems miles away.
Alik is the one who asks, “Did you find him, Signora? Did you give your fiancé the bag?”
“No.” I close my eyes against the sun, the glare, the memories. “When I got to the sidewalk, he wasn’t there. The shops were closed, the street empty. It wasn’t like I lost him in a crowd. He’d just vanished.”
“Odd for him to disappear when everything was still closed. It’s not like he could go into a shop and buy anything,” Vampa points out, tone critical.
It finds a target inside me, flipping a kill switch that’s been saving me from thinking too hard about that morning. Or studying Tino’s behavior too closely. Vampa’s comment makes it impossible to avoid the truth.
“Yes,” I mutter. “Looking back on it, it’s ridiculous. How could he have gone out to buy anything if all the shops were closed?”
I shift on my feet, ready for this to be over.
To put this part of my life behind me. “I’ll just go ahead and say what we’re all thinking, okay?
I was lovestruck, too trusting. Tino told me he was going to buy a gift, so I believed him.
I didn’t have any reason not to. I’d been in the convent for eight years.
Other than my parents, Tino was the only person from the outside world I was allowed to talk to.
He sent letters when he said he was going to.
He came for a visit when he said he was going to.
Proposed, just like my parents promised.
I was foolish to trust him; I know that now. But at the time, it made sense.”
Gio curses under his breath, a shadow covering his face. He pulls me into his chest, wrapping a protective arm around me.
This close, I can tell his calm demeanor is a facade. There’s a dangerous energy running beneath his composed veneer. I should be paying closer attention. Should be trying to figure out why this conversation affects him so much, but I’m too stuck in my own head.
“Did you ever find him?” Alik asks, bringing us back to the subject.
“No,” I answer. “I couldn’t find him, so I was going to wait for him to come back. I was heading into the cafe when a car pulled up.”
Gio’s arm turns to steel behind my back. Tension grips him from head to toe.
“You remember that?” Alik asks. “It’s ten years later, and you remember that you were standing on the pavement and a car pulled up?”
“Okay, this is getting really annoying.” I frown at the Russian.
“Yes, I remember. Did you hear what I said? It was my first time out of the convent in eight years. I was taking in every last detail, soaking up everything I’d been missing—including cars.
I hadn’t seen one that entire time. And then one shows up right next to where I’m standing.
It was loud. And massive. Black, and blocking my view. ”
I can picture it in my head. Blame it for what happened next.
“It distracted me. I was carrying the bag, still looking around for Tino, and then this huge car pulls up near the cafe. I must’ve been looking at it and not where I was going.
The toe of my sandal must’ve caught in the sidewalk, because I stumbled.
The bag went flying, and I went down. And then… that’s it.”
Alik is staring at me, transfixed. “What do you mean, that’s it?”
“I mean, that’s all I remember. When I fell, I must’ve cracked my head.
That’s what the doctors said. I had a huge concussion and no memory of how I got to the hospital.
I was in and out of consciousness for several days and then kept there for observation.
When I finally made it back to the convent, Tino had already gone back to Chicago.
The nuns told me that the wedding needed to be postponed, and that I shouldn’t spare it another thought.
Not until my parents summoned me back to Chicago. So, that’s it. That’s what happened.”
I’m tired, irritable. I never expected to see Sant’Angelo again, and I’m ready to put Tino Valori and everything that happened here far, far behind me. I’m ready to go home.
I close my eyes, rest my temple against Giovanni’s chest. He pulls me closer, his fingers drawing soothing lines down my back.
He’s comforting me, but something feels off.
His head is somewhere else, his focus inward.
The silence is uncomfortable by the time he says, “Thank you, bella, for telling us. Before we head back, a few more questions. Did the nuns ever mention anything else that happened that day? Who was driving the car, or if anyone got hurt?”
“What?” I look around the men. “No. Nothing like that. I was the only one who ended up in the hospital. It’s not like I crashed into anyone. There wasn’t anyone there. Who else could’ve gotten hurt?”
When no one answers, I just shake my head. “That’s everything I remember, everything I know. Once my injury had healed and I was back at the convent, no one spoke about it ever again.”