Chapter Twelve
Elio
Some mornings, Noemi and I sit on a stone bench in the garden, enjoying the warm sun on our shoulders as we drink our coffee and talk about life. Of course, there’s a lot I don’t tell her. Like my confusing feelings for her brother.
I wouldn’t know where to begin. One minute I feel close to Marcello and the next I remember he’s a violent thug. She grew up in this world, so she probably sees nothing wrong with anything Marcello does. But for me, Marcello’s cruel and violent side is a scary reminder of exactly who he really is.
“Mama hopes one day to meet Fabio,” Noemi says, tucking her bare feet under her.
“Once he’s had his surgery, he’ll be in rehab. I’m hopeful after that, he’ll come stay with me here.”
“That would be wonderful.”
I laugh. “Or it might be a trainwreck.”
“Why do you say that?”
I sigh. “He has no idea about any of this. Not my marriage to Marcello, none of it. I’m afraid he’ll be upset with me for keeping it from him.”
“You think he’ll disapprove of your marriage to Marcello?”
“Of course. He’ll feel guilty. I wouldn’t be in this situation if he hadn’t needed surgery. But regardless, I have no regrets. I’d do it all again to protect Fabio.”
“Oh.” She narrows her eyes. “Are you embarrassed to be a part of our family?”
I hesitate. “Not embarrassed, no.” But aren’t I? It’s not as if I approve of the Foschini syndicate and the things they do. But I like the Foschini family themselves. Even if I approve of their lifestyle, they’ve been very warm and welcoming.
She shakes her head, studying me. “You definitely disapprove of us. You know, Marcello only does what he has to do to keep us safe, Elio.”
I meet her gaze. “I’m not judging you, Noemi. It’s just… this life, it’s not something I can fully comprehend.”
“Fair enough.” She shrugs. “You don’t understand this life. We were born into this, you know? It’s not as if we were given a choice. I was born a Foschini. And if Marcello wasn’t how he is.” She hesitates. “If he hadn’t stepped up when Adriano died, we’d have probably all been slaughtered.”
I widen my eyes. “What? Why?”
“Because the new syndicate that took over would be afraid we were plotting against them.” She smirks. “And we probably would have been.”
“Jesus, I really don’t understand you people.”
She laughs merrily. “I know. That’s what I just said, silly.”
I smile grudgingly because, despite our differences, I like Noemi. Of everyone in this house, she was the first to treat me like a person instead of a transaction. She was the first to hug me and show me real warmth. I especially needed that in the beginning of this strange journey.
“Did Marcello tell you he was going to Italy?” she asks, watching me closely.
“No.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe that. Why would he just leave without a word?”
“He doesn’t have to tell me his every move,” I murmur. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember?”
She sighs. “Don’t you miss him at all?”
“It’s only been four days,” I say flippantly. I don’t want her to know that I regret not going to his room after our dinner at Cabrera’s. I’m doing my very best to pretend I don’t crave his scent and touch every minute of every day.
“Four days is a long time to be away from your alpha.”
I avoid her gaze. “Not when the relationship is simply a contractual one.”
She sighs. “Elio, I know you miss Marcello. You don’t have to pretend otherwise. I also realize your relationship is complicated.”
“Yes, it is. But right now, all I’m focused on is Fabio’s surgery.”
Her face softens. “I’d be a basket case if anyone in my family had to have open-heart surgery. When is the surgery?”
My chest constricts with stress. “Twelve days.”
“Did Marcello say he’d be back in time to support you on that day?”
“No. Of course not.”
She frowns. “But, he cares about you. I can see he does.”
“No. It’s just business between us.” I’m trying to convince myself as well as her.
The other night, when we talked about Adriano’s death, I felt close to Marcello.
Then the next morning I was reminded of who he truly is by the way he treated that man called Beppe.
I can’t fall in love with a man who abuses crippled old men.
She mutters something in Italian, as she watches me.
“I don’t speak Italian, Noemi.”
She smirks. “I know. That’s why I said it in Italian.”
“What did you say?”
“None of your business.” She grins.
I laugh. “Okay. Be like that.”
She flips her hair. “Don’t worry. I will be.”
My phone buzzes against the stone bench and when I look down I see Giulia Greco’s name on the lockscreen. Marcello and I played tennis against her and her husband Renato at the Sorrento Bay Country Club. I’m not sure why she’s calling me.
Noemi frowns. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“It’s Giulia Greco.”
“Okay.” She laughs. “So answer it.”
I pick up the phone and say hesitantly, “Hello?”
“Please tell me you’ll play tennis today.” Giulia’s pleading voice comes over the line. “I’m bored to tears and I need some fun and exercise.”
“Oh, uh…”
She laughs. “Sorry, hello, Elio, how are you? This is Giulia Greco. I forgot that part.”
I smile and meet Noemi’s curious gaze. “You want to play tennis? With… with me?”
“Yes,” Giulia exclaims. “I’ll give you a free lesson. I need sun and exercise, but Renato’s gone to Atlantic City for work. I’m bored to tears.”
“You’ve seen me play,” I say. “You know I’m terrible.”
“I do know. I witnessed your lack of talent personally. It was genuinely hard to watch.” I can hear the grin in her voice.
“Ouch.”
She laughs. “You really weren’t very good, why lie? But you’re fun, and I like that you didn’t take the game too seriously. You had fun even though you lost. I want that happy energy around me today.”
“I… I don’t have a racket.”
“The club has rackets, you absolute peasant, you must know that. That’s one of the perks of a club. They have everything you need. I’ll call ahead and reserve a court for us. You’ll come, right? You won’t stand me up?”
I hesitate because the idea of going to the club without Marcello makes me uneasy. “You sure you really want to play with me?” I glance at Noemi, who’s openly eavesdropping and nodding at me while mouthing go.
“I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t.”
“Hang on one sec,” I say to Giulia, and lower the phone. “Do you want to come play tennis with us?”
“I’d love to but I can’t,” Noemi whispers. “I have a hair appointment at noon. I’ve had it booked for a month. Eric does my color and he’s impossible to rebook. I’ll die if I lose this appointment.”
“Is that Noemi?” Giulia asks. “Tell her to come too.”
“I tried, she has a hair appointment.”
Noemi leans forward. “Elio, tell her I love her and I’m sorry but that I’ll come next time.”
“Uh…” I’m beginning to feel like their social secretary. “Maybe you two should just speak directly to each other.”
They both burst out laughing.
“Sorry, Elio,” Giulia says apologetically.
Noemi grins. “I’ll call her later and tell her all the things. You just go play tennis. You need to get out of this house before you dissolve into the wallpaper.”
“I don’t know anyone at the club,” I say into the phone. “I feel weird going there without Marcello.”
“You know me. I won’t abandon you, I promise,” Giulia says. “I’ll stay glued to your side. We’ll play some tennis, grab drinks, and I’ll introduce you to the people worth knowing. The list is short, so it won’t be too overwhelming.”
I look at Noemi, who’s nodding vigorously and making a shooing motion with both hands. The alternative to going to the club is another long, empty day alone at this house with nothing but my own circling thoughts about Marcello.
“Okay,” I say into the phone. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Ha, thank you for accepting. I might actually have some fun today thanks to you.”
I hang up and Noemi pulls out her cell. “I’m going to call the club and have them set out some tennis clothes for you. You’re probably too timid to do it yourself.”
I smile weakly. “Thank you.”
Thirty minutes later I’m in the car with Dante at the wheel. When we arrive at the club, Giulia is waiting out front in a white skirt, shirt, and visor, leaning against one of the white colonnade pillars.
“Yay, you made it.” She kisses my cheek and loops her arm through mine, steering me up the steps, past the valets and the people drifting in and out.
I’m glad I’m walking in attached to someone instead of alone under all those curious eyes.
It’s so weird that people know who I am, when I haven’t a clue who they are.
Once I’ve changed into tennis gear, we head to the courts. I don’t have to worry about making conversation because Giulia has lots of gossip. I don’t know anyone she’s talking about, but it sounds like a lively group.
When we reach the courts, Giulia insists on giving me a tennis lesson. I’m not opposed to the idea. I know I need help.
“Just twenty minutes or so to loosen you up,” she says. “You haven’t played tennis since we played, right?”
“Correct.”
She nods, pushing a racket into my hands. “Then it’s worth brushing up on a few things.”
I need more than a little brushing up, and we both know it. I cross the court, my shoes leaving pale prints in the clay, and she walks around to my side and stands behind me the way Marcello did, except where Marcello’s nearness scrambled my brain, Giulia is simply a guiding presence.
“First problem, I noticed last time you’re choking the life out of the grip.” She pries my fingers loose. “It’s a handshake, not a strangulation. Loosen up your fingers. More. More. More still. Honey, if your knuckles are white, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Okay,” I mumble.
“The racket’s a tool, not a weapon, let it swing.” She trots to the other side of the net and feeds me a soft ball. “Now hit it without trying to kill it.”
I hit it and it sails long. Well past the baseline, the way half my shots did last time.