43. Vivi
VIVI
It’s a confession of love. And it hangs there, dead between us.
I don’t know what to say to him. Can barely feel my body, let alone figure out how I feel. After all these secrets and too many lies.
I’m saved from having to answer when a commotion breaks out. Tino is awake.
He’s writhing on the ground, shouting something murderous at Gio. My husband’s expression blanks, his armor falling into place as he puts distance between us and my ex.
The priest is keeping Tino on the ground without much effort. The old man is way stronger than he looks.
Francesca is subdued, but her mother is watching us all very carefully.
Gio gestures to Vampa. “Did you find what we needed?”
“Sì, capo.”
Gio waves Signora Pazzi over. He meets her eyes with no hint of embarrassment, as if he didn’t just pour his heart out in front of her. “You heard everything I said?”
“Yes, Giovanni.”
“Then take Valori. He’s the one who killed your son.”
Vampa passes an envelope over to the woman.
Gio explains, “Here is your proof. The same as your husband would’ve required.
The cafe owner kept security footage of the days surrounding the explosion as an insurance policy.
It has audio, a clear recording of all the arrangements Valori made prior to Matteo’s death.
Him confirming the timing with the owner, instructions for the man to clear the premises before the bomb detonated, confirmation that payment would be sent to his bank account.
Payment for looking the other way. Tino arranged everything in advance.
He’s the one truly responsible for Matteo’s death.
Not Vivi. She was a pawn in his sick game. ”
And I used to think I was so in love with him.
It’s too much. I can’t be here anymore. “Gio, I need to go. Please.” I pull away from him, desperate for space. “I—I’m going upstairs. I need to be alone.”
The implications of everything he’s said are hitting me over and over. Bile burns the back of my throat, and for one horrible moment I think I’m going to throw up.
Reflexively, I press my hand to my abdomen.
And a second thought crosses my mind.
Giovanni and I had sex last night. He came inside me multiple times. No protection, no precautions to prevent pregnancy.
I know it’s a long shot. It’s highly unlikely that it would take so quickly. But the chance is there.
There’s an actual possibility I’m pregnant with Gio’s baby, and I can’t begin to wrap my head around the ramifications. What it would mean for us, the life we started under false pretenses.
The fact that he considered me disposable from the very beginning.
And despite the chaos unfurling around us, Gio is staring at me. At the place I’ve put my hand.
I drop it instantly. Now isn’t the time.
“I’ll come with you,” he says.
“No.” It comes out so fast.
Gio flinches. “Let me take you up, at least.”
On the floors above, people are stirring. Doors opening and closing. Voices casting questions. The sedatives that Tino’s accomplice administered must be wearing off.
Soon, the villa is going to be overrun with people. Gio’s friends wanting to know what the hell happened. Elio and the other guards storming in, furious about the breach in security. Everyone hunting down a traitor.
Vampa and Father Luigi are hauling a conscious Tino to his feet. The man is breathing, but only just. Ginevra is talking to Francesca in low tones.
Alik and Sera are coming down the steps, Aurora snuggled against Sera’s chest, the giant bald Russian steps behind. The little girl looks at me sleepily, gives me a drowsy little wave.
Her smile is dozy. Her face is still creased from sleep. I blow her a kiss. Her smile brightens. Unlike the rest of us, she is no worse for wear.
From somewhere in the back of the villa, I can hear Elio barking orders, the staccato sound of soldiers mobilizing.
All hell is about to break loose, and I can’t be here for it.
“Fine,” I tell Gio. “You can take me up. Let’s go.” I don’t wait for him to lead the way. I’m hauling myself up the steps at breakneck pace, legs moving faster the higher we get. By the time we reach the final curve, the one leading to the top floor, I’m running.
I need to be alone. The one thing I never wanted to be again—and now it’s all I crave.
Solitude. Peace. Quiet.
Gio is silent until I blow past his suite door. Then he’s calling my name, long legs catching up to me too easily. “Vivi, wait! Go to our room. You’ll rest better there.”
On the bed we shared last night? Where we touched each other so intimately, coming in each other’s arms, crying out each other’s names?
“I don’t fucking think so.” I jerk my arm out of his grasp, carry on until I reach my door.
Knob in hand, I turn on my heels. Refuse to let the pain in his face change my mind.
“I’m not running from you. I’m not leaving.
But I need space. Time. What you said down there.
What happened earlier in the prison. Fuck, the fact that Tino was even in the prison to begin with!
It’s a lot to handle, and I need time to think. ”
My husband studies me, moving forward so slowly I don’t realize what he’s doing until my back hits the solid door. He pins me with his body.
So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours I feel like I’m looking at a different person. A man I’ve never truly met.
Gio curses, clasps the back of my neck. The next thing I know, he’s kissing me. Ravenously. Desperately. There’s nothing polite or cautious about it. Gio is claiming me and, goddamnit, if my body doesn’t react instantly.
I fist his shirt, hoping the material tears.
He growls low in his throat, sound waves jumping from his body to mine. My nipples tighten, heat curling low in my core. It’s enough to make me soften against him.
He takes advantage.
The kiss goes from incendiary to nuclear, my skin enflamed as Gio rips my fingers from his body and manacles both wrists in one of his hands.
He presses my arms high above my head. My breathing hitches, my hips canting outward, and Gio wraps his other hand around my ass, grinding his erection into my stomach.
From head to toe, his body is punishingly hard, and mine softens in response. Enslaved, conditioned. Just like he wants.
Gio rocks his hips forward. Arousal coats my underwear, the inside of my thighs. He’s about to fuck me against this door, and I’m about to let him. My mind is a wasteland, my heart a minefield, but my body is certain. Completely, utterly certain that he is mine. I am his.
And the certainty is enough to jar me from the sensual haze. I tear my lips from his. They’re wet, swollen. Already aching for more. “No, stop.”
Gio barely lifts his head. Can’t open his eyes. His breath is sawing in and out of his lungs. “Bella?”
“I said stop.” I pull my hands from his, push him away. “Leave.”
If possible, he looks more devastated than he did before. “Viviana. Please.”
“No. Just go. I need you to go.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Gio retreats. Just a step. Then he’s holding my hand, tracing the place where his ring circles my finger. “I’ll leave, bella. I’ll give you some time alone. But not for long. And definitely not forever. Nothing has changed. You’re my wife. I’m never letting you go.”
He’s about to say more. About to say that word again. Love.
I don’t give him the chance. I barely wait for him to release me before I’m through the door. It clicks closed behind me. I collapse against it, eyes shut, and remember I can’t lock it from the inside. Not without a key.
God damn it!
Well done, Vivi. Well fucking done.
I take in the scene around me. The beautiful dresses we left spread across the bed. The makeup scattered over the dressing table after Gio helped me get ready for my party. The boxes of shoes and jewelry we left stacked on the floor. Beautiful. Mocking.
Little bird is shuffling around in her box, trailing between her water and food, her strength almost back to normal. We’re supposed to start encouraging her to fly soon, little flights in a safe space. The groundskeepers are going to help. I’m supposed to bring her to them today…
I drop my butt to vanity stool, too tired to make it all the way to the bed. Meet bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Wince. “Shit, Vivi. What the heck are you going to do now?”
Leave him or stay. Forgive him or forget. Choices that feel impossible.
“Because you love him.” I watch the confession tumble out of my reflection. It takes a solid second to realize I’ve spoken aloud. That I’ve just admitted to myself that I love the man I was tricked into marrying.
Is that better than being tricked into loving someone who never wanted to marry me at all?
The thoughts chase themselves around my skull, escalating the ache that’s been growing since Tino cracked me in the head beneath the church.
There’s a half-empty bottle of champagne on the dressing table. Gio and I didn’t have a chance to finish it before we went down to the party last night. It’s warm, flat, and I couldn’t care less. I drink straight from the bottle, dribbles breaking down my chin before I stop. Pull back.
If I am pregnant, I shouldn’t be drinking.
My knowledge about pregnancy is limited, but I do know. I run a hand across my stomach, aware that I’m surrounded by impossible decisions in every direction.
It will be several weeks before I know if I’m carrying Gio’s baby. If I am, then what?
Am I safe here, with him? Married to a man who never wanted me as his wife?
Who only ever wanted me as a bargaining chip in the effort to save his niece?
The thought should make me sick to my stomach.
It does make me feel ill. But it also makes my heart hurt, because it’s impossible not to be awestruck by a man willing to go to such lengths to protect his daughter, his family. The people he loves.
If I’m to believe him, that includes me.
There’s a soft rap on the door. I ignore it. There’s no one in this villa I want to talk to right now.
It comes again. “Vivi. It’s me. Can I come in?”
Francesca?
I crack the door. There’s no point not to. I can’t lock her out, not from this side. “Yes?”
She’s changed and is as beautifully put together as always. Hair swept up, clothing pristine. The barest hint of makeup. Effortlessly gorgeous. Utterly impenetrable. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye? Are you leaving?”
“I’m going to the mainland with my mother for a few days. Funeral arrangements for Papà. That sort of thing.”
“Ah.” I wave her into the room. We’re not friends, but I don’t want to be unkind. She’s only just learned her father is dead. Shoving the door in her face is not the way to go. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Grazie.” She drifts across my room, eyeing the ramshackle furniture and barren floors. Judging, as always. “But he was a horrible man. I’m glad he’s dead.”
And…that’s not what I expected her to say. A few months ago, I would’ve been startled by her lack of remorse, but I understand it now. There are some people who aren’t worth grieving for.
“Yes, well…” I’m too drained to come up with empty platitudes. “Will you be back on the island soon?”
“I’m not sure.” She turns toward me. “Which is why I wanted to give you this.” Francesca pulls something from her pocket. An object so small it vanishes in her hand. “Something I wish I’d given you last night. At the party.”
A gift? From her?
Up until last night, she has treated me with nothing but open hospitality. True, things were different at the party. She was pleasant. There were even moments when she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself. But a gift?
I have half a mind to say no, but Francesca insists and the part of me that’s been conditioned to be agreeable clicks into gear. I offer my hand. She drops something hard and smooth into my palm, curling my fingers around it before I have a chance to see what it is.
“It’s just a token,” she says. “A little thing. But it’s always meant a lot to me, and I thought you should have it.”
Francesca’s eyes have gone unnaturally bright, tracking my every move as I uncurl my fingers and look at the familiar grey rock. “But this is mine,” I say, confused. “I brought it with me. The only thing I brought with me, actually.”
Her voice has flattened, lost some of its usual lilt. “Are you sure, Vivi? Look again.”
That’s when I hear it. The knife’s edge in her voice. My instincts scream in warning, but I’m too stunned to do anything but look from the rock in my hand to the one I put on the bedside table last night.
There are two. Two. Mine and...
Panic crawls up my throat as I watch Francesca pull a key from her pocket. She slides it into the lock. Seals us inside.
I take a step back, then another, my heart crashing against my ribs. “How do you have this, Francesca? Where did it come from?”
“I know it’s been a rough morning, but come on. I thought you would’ve figured it out by now. Don’t you recognize me, Ana? It’s me. Millie.”