Chapter 47
Camillo Vicari
Reggio Calabria, Calabria, Italy
“Don Vicari! Benvenuto!”
He smiled at the freckled young man. “Ciao, Federico. Scusami, I know this was an unexpected request.”
“Not at all, Don Vicari! It’s always a pleasure. Papà is running a little late, but I went ahead and got everything ready just as you asked.”
I gave the ragazzo a satisfied pat on the shoulder and looked at Daisy, cowering beside me. “Federico, this is Signorina Daisy Parker.” I introduced them, pulling Daisy under my arm. “Daisy, this ragazzo you see here is the son of the owner of this restaurant.”
“Nice to meet you.” She squeaked the greeting, and I noticed she was blushing.
“Ah, sì! The American Signorina who was here last time with Fabiano.”
I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth in an attempt to brush away the pang of jealousy that stabbed my ribs. I glanced sideways at Daisy, huddled under my arm and staring intently at the floor, her expression more than just guilty.
“And that was the last time you saw her with your cugino,” I said through clenched teeth, feeling her body stiffen beside me.
Federico, in that white shirt that was far too big for his skinny frame, shifted uncomfortably, and there was an obvious question in his expression.
Malice prompted me to clarify. “Fabiano is to marry Luca Condello’s ragazza. ”
“Francesca?!” the boy exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. I confirmed it with a nod. “Madonna! What a lucky guy… Francesca is every man’s dream.”
Daisy shifted, falling silent, and I recalled her words from the day before. I lowered my arm and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her close to me, smiling.
“Not every man’s,” I admitted, giving Daisy a gentle shake.
Her eyes lifted and met mine. She looked surprised, and something sparkled in her peridot eyes. It was almost as if she didn’t believe me, but that was fine. I would have plenty of time to convince her.
“Well, Don Vicari, Signorina Parker, this way,” Federico said, and we followed him immediately through the restaurant.
As soon as the door to the back room opened, I puffed out my chest with satisfaction. It didn’t even look like the same room that was destroyed days ago.
Just as I’d instructed, a single table had been placed in the center of the room, round and modest in size, perfect for my hands to touch Daisy’s.
The lights had been turned off, and in their place, dozens of candles in holders dotted the entire room.
And scattered across the floor were hundreds of daisy petals, white as a dove’s feathers, and a handful of the same flowers had been arranged in the middle of the table, forming a sort of wreath.
I looked at Daisy, pulling her close to me.
We had spent the whole day at the beach and barely spoken. Between orgasms and comfortable silences, we let the sun burn our skin and our DNA mingle. Then we returned to my penthouse and washed the salt from our bodies. And we spent a few more hours letting our bodies speak, tangled in the sheets.
The more I took her, the more certain I was that it was impossible to get her out of my system. More. That I didn’t want to get her out. Ever.
With her resting against my chest in the late afternoon, back at the penthouse, lost in a deep sleep, I took the opportunity to review a certain piece of footage Luca had given me days ago.
It was Daisy, entering the west wing of the villa.
After my famiglia’s death, we had installed cameras throughout the empty wings to ensure that the valuables weren’t stolen, and thank goodness we had.
If someone told me what happened, I wouldn’t have believed a single word.
But the footage left no room for doubt. Before Daisy stepped inside, the light in my parents’ bedroom had turned on by itself, and when she reached the room, my mother’s jewelry box fell to the floor without Daisy even touching it.
I watched the recordings over and over, trying to figure out if it had been some optical illusion, but it hadn’t been.
And my heart ached every time I saw her in that video, on her knees on the floor, slipping the Vicari women’s ring onto her finger with a broad smile on her face.
My Mamusia’s recipe, the jewelry, the ring… I had asked for a sign, and perhaps this wasn’t a coincidence, but rather the answer to my prayers.
Be that as it may, with or without a sign, after claiming Daisy for myself for the first time, one thing became quite obvious: I would be incapable of hurting her, let alone killing her.
That was why we were there.
While Daisy was asleep that afternoon, I asked Carlo Mancuso to prepare the ristorante for a special occasion and called Luca, so he could go to Castello dell’Fiero to fetch the ring that now weighed in my pocket.
“What do you think, Don Vicari?” Federico Mancuso asked me, pointing toward the dining room.
I sighed and smiled at Daisy. “You have to ask Signorina Parker, ragazzo. All of this… is for her.”
Daisy’s eyes lit up and she broke into a huge smile, gazing into space again, as if waking from some kind of trance. “For me?” she asked, staring at me in disbelief.
“Who else?”
“Do you like it, Signorina?” the ragazzo insisted. I liked his enthusiasm.
Daisy’s smile widened, accompanied by her heavy breathing. “It’s gorgeous!”
Federico Mancuso basked in the compliment and immediately guided us to the table. I dismissed him, asking him to bring us the house’s finest sparkling wine, and pulled out a chair for Daisy so she could sit down. When I took my seat and we were alone, the sight of her pierced me to the bone.
She had brushed her blonde hair back. Only her bangs framed her little peridot eyes, which now reflected the sparks of candlelight. And that dark emerald dress, all in satin, with a halter neckline that left her shoulders bare, turned her into a mirage from another world.
I reached across the table and took her hands, caressing them with my thumbs.
Dio.
She was the opposite of everything I had once desired, and yet she was everything I wanted in that moment, everything I needed.
I felt like a dying man who had received a new organ transplant, regaining the life I had lost, knowing full well that if that organ failed, I would never see another dawn.
“I had Martino hunt down margherite at every florist in town.” I admitted with a satisfied smile and rejoiced at her immediate laughter. “I wanted this to be special. I want to prove to you that nothing is as you think, Piccola Furetta.”
Daisy moved her hands beneath mine, and a tingling sensation flooded my chest as she intertwined her fingers with mine. “What does that mean?”
“That you’re no collateral damage. You never were.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “That part I… I think I’m starting to understand.
At least, that’s what I want to believe.
” She murmured with a gentle, fragile look that revealed a whole other woman to me.
One who didn’t need to hide from me behind masks of false bravado.
“But I was referring to Piccola Furetta. What does that mean?”
I snorted, laughing heartily. “It means little ferret.”
Her eyes widened and her hands immediately let go of mine. With her arms crossed over her chest and her nose wrinkled, she snapped, “And may I ask why on earth you’ve been calling me a ferret this whole damn time?!”
I bit my lower lip and leaned back against the chair’s backrest. “Because you look like a ferret. Even in behavior. Tiny and sassy.”
“Should I take that as an insult…?”
“Ferrets are adorable,” I admitted. “They’re my favorite animal, just so you know. When we get back to the villa, I’ll show you a collection of pictures I’ve taken of them.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she rested her forearms on the table, giving me her full attention. “Is that why you have all those cameras in your room?”
I nodded. “That’s right. Photography has been my hobby since I was a boy, ever since my Nonna Renata gave me my first camera.”
Something changed in Daisy’s expression. Suddenly, there was a certain stiffness in her body, and her lips tightened as if she were wrestling with something. I raised an eyebrow and waited.
“I’m sorry. For what happened to your family.
I really am.” She whispered, and my heart melted a little more.
Ordinary people would consider the death of people like us a service to humanity, but not Daisy Parker.
The sadness in her features revealed to me the sincerity of her words.
“I saw some pictures you have on display around the villa. Your mother was the red-haired lady, wasn’t she? ”
I smiled and nodded. “Sì.”
“She seems to have been an impressive woman. She was beautiful, Camillo.”
I smiled again and discreetly slipped my hand into the pocket of my suit pants. I felt the little box with the ring, and in that instant, I decided to take it out and place it on the table. Daisy looked at it, her eyebrows furrowed as if she didn’t understand a thing.
I opened the box.
“Speaking of my Mamusia… We have every room in the east and west wings under surveillance, did you know that?” I murmured. She cleared her throat, and not even the dim candlelight was enough to hide her blushing face. “I saw you trying on this ring.”
“I’m—I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I’d like to know why you put it on your finger.”
She looked at me very seriously. “You’re even asking?” I raised an eyebrow. “The ring is absolutely gorgeous, Camillo!”
Thank Dio for the chair I was sitting in, because, for a few seconds, my world spun and the faces of everyone I had lost reappeared in Daisy Parker’s peridot eyes. And thank Dio for Federico Mancuso too, who interrupted us with the bottle of sparkling wine.
I put the ring back in my pocket and composed myself. While the ragazzo filled two flutes with the bubbling liquid, I watched the woman in front of me, her eyes fixed on the movements of the young man serving us, and I felt life shaking my bones.
Some would say that life changes in seconds and that everyone, at some point, experiences a moment that justifies their existence.
Mine was happening right there, in that restaurant, with the woman I was supposed to have executed.
Everything seemed to make sense now. From the sweetest to the cruelest situation of my human life.
Everything seemed to have been woven on purpose to guide me to Daisy Parker.
It wasn’t the fate that the young Camillo would have chosen, but it was precisely where he was meant to be.
Where I liked to be.
Around eight o’clock in the evening, dinner was finally served.
Daisy told me little things about her past. I saw her eyes light up when she spoke to me about her father. Paul Parker, it seemed, had been a phenomenal father, and it saddened me that I’d never get to meet him. I would have thanked him for shaping the destiny of my happiness.
We were finishing dessert when I glanced at my watch; it was 9:30 p.m.
“Give me your hand,” I asked, surprising her.
She set her spoon down on the plate, where a bit of her whiskey semifreddo still remained, and complied with my request. “The other one,” I clarified, placing the ring box back on the table.
She held out her left hand. “It’s yours,” I declared, sliding the huge peridot onto her ring finger, swallowing hard as I realized it fit her perfectly.
However, that wasn’t a marriage proposal.
Not yet.
I knew we had a long way to go before we could even think about something like that, but there was no doubt that the ring had been waiting for her all those years.
“I-I can’t accept it! This must be worth a fortune and—”
“My Mamusia would have wanted you to have it, I’m sure.” She fell silent and drew her arm back, staring at the stone on her finger. “Your eyes are that exact color, did you know?”
She smiled shyly. “I hadn’t realized it, but… peridot is my birthstone.”
“Your birthstone?” I repeated, my eyebrows raised high.
She shook her head, a broad smile on her face. “My birthday is this month. Peridot is the stone for August.”
My heart began racing again, and the question slipped out hesitantly, “On what day?”
“The nineteenth.”
On the nineteenth of August, two thousand thirteen, I asked Valentina to marry me.
On the nineteenth of August, two thousand fourteen, we got married.
And on the nineteenth of August, two thousand fifteen, she killed my famiglia.
For ten years, that had been a day I cursed. It was the day I sealed the fate of the ones I loved so much, the day of my worst mistake, and a reminder of what I had lost.
I forced myself to smile.
“I promise to celebrate it until the end of my days.” I swore, but the truth was that I wasn’t saying it to her, but to myself. I took a deep breath and pushed away any trace of the past. The present was too good to let old pains take over the moment. “What do you want to do on that day?”
She laughed, and the peridot sparkled in her hand, almost as if it were an extension of her body. “I’d like to visit my Aunt Lizzie… I know! I know! No way!”
“I’ll buy the plane tickets.”
Daisy grew serious, perhaps too much so. She sat up straight in her seat, and her next words were spoken in a low tone. “Don’t play with me like that…”
I leaned over the table, stealing those hands for myself once more. “I promised I’d prove you’re no collateral damage, and I’m going to keep it.” I purred, bringing her hands to my lips, kissing them slowly. “You’re not my prisoner, Daisy Parker, and I’m not entirely sure you ever were.”