Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Still, I remain calm on the surface. I pretend I’m not hurt.
I can feel Vance watching me, but he doesn’t say a word. Steadily and calmly, I take a gulp of orange juice before pushing back my chair and heading toward the stairs. Vance is suddenly in front of me, and his eyes aren’t so emotionless anymore. There's feeling in them, but I’m too dead inside to care.
“What is it now, Vance?” My voice is strangely tranquil.
“That video is a lie.”
My fists clench. “So, my eyes are lying to me?”
Vance runs a frustrated hand down his face. “No, but-”
“If my eyes are not lying to me the video is not a lie,” I cut in sharply. “Now, step away from my path.”
He obeys, and I walk up the stairs. Putting one foot in front of the other. I will survive this. I am strong. I can do this. I close the door and switch the TV on and choose one of the MTV channels. It must be featuring music from the eighties because Eric Clapton is singing Wonderful Tonight.
What a strange coincidence.
That is my mother’s favorite song. She said Eric had perfectly captured the feeling of unrequited love in that song. I never got it when she told me that. But today, I finally understand the terrible pain my mother must have felt when she found out she had married a man who would never be faithful to her.
The longing in Eric Clapton’s voice fills the air.
I turn the volume up as the first howl of pain erupts out of my mouth.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
VALENTINO
The first person I call as I walk off the jet in Venice is Francesca.
It’s been many tedious hours in the air. Hours that I should have been spending with Francesca. She doesn’t answer. I redial two more times, only to get the same result. It’s about four in the afternoon in New York, and I try to imagine what she’s doing that has her away from her phone. Maybe she’s asleep.
What can I do? I decide to call her a little later.
Giuseppe is waiting for me in a car parked a few feet away. I warned my family to be quiet about my visit because there’s always business for me when I come to Italy, but not this time. I’m here to see Matteo and then I’m gone.
“Buon Giorno, Fra Valentino.” Giuseppe smiles as I slip into the backseat with him. “It’s good to have you back in Italy. Hope you are staying a bit longer this time.”
“This is just a flying visit, Giuseppe.”
“That’s a shame.”
I dial Francesca again, but she doesn’t pick up, and I start to worry. What the hell is she doing that is so important? I’m hoping I can talk to her before I meet with the family because our meeting will probably last for hours. I’m sure they have grievances to air, none of which I will apologize for, but I must address.
When we get to Castillo Dimora, Dutch stays outside and since Giuseppe has to run a quick errand, he says he will meet me at Nona Isadora’s reception room in five minutes. I walk alone through the familiar stone maze of the house toward Nona Isadora’s quarters. I stop on the way and call Francesca again, but she doesn’t pick up. Now I’m pissed. Really, what is she doing that is more important than me?
My next call is to Vance. He picks up on the first ring.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Where is my wife?”
“She’s upstairs. In her er… your bedroom.”
“Is she ill?”
Vance hesitates, and hesitation is never a good thing. “No. She likes being in the bedroom when you’re not in the house.”
“She’s not picking up my calls. I’ve called about ten times.”
Vance hesitates again.
“Vance?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“If anything happens to my wife, I swear to God I will—”
“I’ll protect her with my life,” Vance says and I believe him.
“Okay. She’s probably sleeping,” I say, and remember how little sleep she got last night. “Let me know when she comes downstairs.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Never let her out of your sight. You know…” Now, it’s my turn to hesitate. “You know how much she means to me.”
“I know,” he says gravely. “I’ll protect her with my life.”
“Good.” I hang up.
I reach the large wooden doors of Nona Isadora’s quarters and the manservant standing outside opens it for me. Only Zio Marco and Nonna Isadora are in the room when I walk in. In the perfumed air, I immediately detect the tension they’re trying so hard to mask.
“Where’s Matteo?” I ask impatiently.
“The doctor gave him some medications because he was in so much pain. He will be asleep for the next eight or nine hours,” Zio Marco explains.
A dull ache spreads in my head. “Nine hours?” I grumble. “And no one thought to tell me this?”
“Does it change anything?” Zio Marco asks.