There’s something horribly wrong. I can feel it in my gut. Since the night that Guido died, I’ve felt this cloud hanging over my head. At first, I thought it was the loss of a good man who I loved dearly, and I believed that this uneasiness would settle as the days passed, but it hasn’t.
Bruto’s acting strangely around me and is treating me differently. We’ve always had a wonderful relationship. It’s not often you can say that you like your in-laws, but I truly did enjoy my conversations with Bruto and Sara. From the day Guido and I were married, they were great. They’d come and visit every week, and Sara and I would spend the afternoon cooking a nice dinner for the four of us. There would be times when his sister, Danilla, and her husband, Ruggero, would join us, and we would all have a good time.
Even Sara, my mother-in-law, isn’t calling anymore. I’m sure that Guido’s death hit her hard. Guido and his mother had a special bond, as most mothers and sons seem to have. Since the funeral, I’ve only heard from her once. I’ve tried to reach out and have left messages that have never been returned.
Perhaps their love for me ended when Guido died, or being around me dredges up old memories they can’t deal with. Either way, it hurts because I was closer to Bruto and Sara than I was to my own parents.
My parents are all about status and position. They were mortified when I insisted on marrying Guido. Mom thought that being tied to a crippled man was a horrific fate, especially since Guido released me from my promise. Dad had several other suitors who would make fine husbands, with working legs, as he put it. When I stood my ground, my parents made it seem like I was a martyr and doing Guido a favor by marrying him. It disgusted me then, and when I think of it now, it still angers me.
Since Guido refused to go to any social events and I wasn’t in their social world, I became their lost daughter, which suited me just fine. I think Guido saved me, and I told him so many times. With Guido, I got to be myself. I could laugh loudly, wear scruffy jeans, dig with my hands in the garden, and he would look at me and smile.
The only part of our relationship that upset him was that he wasn’t able to perform his husbandly duties. This caused him great anguish, and at times, it consumed him. At one point, he wanted to divorce me to free me to find someone who could please me in bed. He never used the word fuck and always said a man should please his wife. I cried to the point of making myself sick. That’s when he gave up on the idea, and we settled into our quiet existence.
We had a good marriage. We genuinely cared for one another, and that’s much more than most Mafia marriages have. I look around his bedroom now and wonder what on earth Ruggero was looking for. The only items I’ve taken from this room were the watches I bought him and the pictures of us he had displayed around the room. His clothes are still neatly in the drawers and closet. His bedside table is filled with his prescription medications, which I haven’t been able to throw out yet.
“He’s gone.” Ivo’s low, sexy voice jolts me from my thoughts as I turn to face him. He doesn’t look happy. He looks like he’s ready to tear someone’s heart out. “Did he hurt you?” he asks.
I force a half smile. “It’s nothing. Ruggero doesn’t know his own strength. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be so aggressive.” I’ve learned that soothing the beasts we call men is the best way to keep things under control. There’s no need for Ivo to get upset with Ruggero; it will only cause more strain.
He comes closer, then asks, “Why didn’t you call me?”
I blink, furrowing my brow. Why would I call him? He senses my confusion, and suddenly, I find him standing inches away from me. My heart lurches and my chest feels heavy. His fingers come under my chin, and his eyes search mine, like he’s trying to read my soul. It’s unnerving. I want to move away, but I can’t. I’m mesmerized by those dark eyes.
“You’ve never had anyone look after you, have you?” he says. I inhale deeply, holding my breath. “My Elisa has always looked after everyone else’s needs. Who’s been looking after you?”
“I…I don’t need anything.” I barely choke out the words, unable to concentrate as his palm cups my cheek. I lick my lips, averting my eyes, afraid that he’ll see what he does to me.
“All right, regina mia. I’ll let it go, this time.” He drops his hand, and I immediately want it back, but instead, I excuse myself, skirting around him and fleeing down the hall to the safety of my bedroom.
Elisa wants me as much as I want her. She’s conflicted, and I see the battle she’s waging with herself. She leans into my palm, her eyes drifting closed. But I’ve already seen the fire burning. This is not the time or place, so I do the right thing and let her go, leaving me standing alone.
Ruggero wanted to come into this room. Why? Everything is neat and tidy. I pull out each drawer and rummage through Guido’s clothes. Every drawer has his things in it. The closet is the same. There’s not a trace of Elisa anywhere in this room. I can understand her sleeping in another room, but to not even have one personal item in the bedroom that they shared seems odd.
I pull down a couple of boxes tucked away in the closet and look inside. Mostly mementos of his early years. The photos of a once virile man surrounded by his friends and family are hidden because Guido couldn’t look at them anymore.
Perhaps it’s my suspicious nature or sheer gut instinct, but I decide to check around the bed itself. I move my hands over the mattress and find nothing. The only place left to look is under the bed, and that’s where I see it: a small handgun strapped to the underside of the mattress. Guido was either expecting trouble, or perhaps just terribly cautious. After all, he was still considered part of Ultimo Morte, and they have many enemies
I grab the gun, tuck it in the back of my belt, and head back downstairs. Francesco is continuing to go through the library of books, but I see on the table that two other USB keys have been placed next to the original one.
“We’re done for the night,” I tell him. “We’ll start fresh in the morning.” I grab the three USB keys that we found and slide them into my pocket.
“Whatever you say,” Francesco replies. “What do you think is in them?” His gaze fixes on my pocket.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.” I sigh. “What irritates me is that shit’s happening, and we didn’t have a clue about it. Raffaele is going to lose his mind.” Francesco nods. He knows Raffaele’s temper, and no one wants to be on the receiving end of that.
“We need men posted at the front and back of the house. I’m going to find Elisa and tell her. I don’t want her freaking out,” I say.
“Meet you back at the house,” Francesco replies.
He’s been on duty for twelve hours straight and needs to go home. I’m also aware that he won’t do that until Raffaele gives the go-ahead.
“Call Rafe. He’ll agree that you need to sleep.”
“Thanks,” Francesco murmurs. Yeah, the guy’s tired, but he never complains and never gives anything less than his best.
I go in search of Elisa and find her in the kitchen, dicing up tomatoes. I hear the sizzle and smell the aroma of fresh garlic and onion frying on the stove. Elisa adds the tomatoes to the mix, adding seasonings and stirring, all the while humming to herself.
“Smells good,” I say.
She glances over her shoulder and smiles. “I love a fresh sauce.” She grins, then turns her attention back to her cooking.
“You like to cook?”
“Yes. It relaxes me.”
“Smells heavenly,” I say, and walk up behind her, looking into the pan. Her back stiffens as she continues to stir.
“Thank you. If you like, I could send some home with you.” Ever so proper and polite. It makes me wonder what she’ll be like when I get her in my bed and the inhibitions disappear when I’m between her legs.
“I could stay, and you could feed me.”
She turns her head so that we’re practically nose to nose. “What about Adriana? Won’t she be expecting you?”
“Adriana has an early dinner. The other night was an exception. I’ll make it home in time to tuck her in. That is, if you don’t mind the company.” The bubbling pot catches her attention. She moves to take the lid off and reaches for the pasta.
“I don’t mind,” she says as she busies herself. I step back and watch her work. Elisa grabs the dishes and cutlery, but I take them from her hands.
“I got this.” Her jaw drops open. I shrug. “What? You think I don’t know how to set a table?”
“No, but I’ve never seen a man do it.”
I laugh, giving her a wink. “Get your fill, babe. I don’t do it often, but if I’m around, I do.”
It lightens the mood, and Elisa relaxes. We drift into an easy conversation about music. It seems like we have similar tastes in many areas. We both have an addiction to coffee, mine in the form of espresso, hers is more for lattes.
The meal is simple and delicious. I’m not sure when the last time was that it felt this good to be with someone. I hate to leave, but I’ve been away from Adriana all day, and I want to keep my promise to put her to bed.
“I think it would be a good idea for you to spend some time with Adriana. I’d like to bring her with me tomorrow. How do you feel about that?” I ask. This is the woman I intend to entrust my daughter with when I’m not around. There’s going to be an adjustment period, but I’d like to ease into that as early as possible.
Elisa’s face lights up with the biggest grin. “That would be awesome. We can do crafts, maybe bake some cookies.” She begins to rattle off a variety of activities to keep Adriana occupied.
“She’d love that.”
I look at my watch. “I’ve got to leave. There are men posted at each door, but if anything comes up, call me.” I take her hand. “Walk me to the door.”
“Good night, Ivo,” she says. She sounds sad. “I’m glad you stayed for dinner.”
I caress her cheek. “I want to kiss you, Elisa. But the first time I do, it won’t be in this house, surrounded by memories of another man. I want to be a good man and wait, but I know I won’t. Friday night, I’ll take you out for dinner. Just the two of us.”
She bites her lower lip. It’s clear she understands this is a sign of my intention to make good on my vow.
Ivo’s gone, and I’m leaning with my back to the door, contemplating his parting words. A date, with Ivo. I’ve never been on a date. Guido and I were matched, and our dates were basically being seen together at family functions, with a hundred other people in attendance. Our first kiss was stolen during our first Christmas before our wedding. It was an innocent touch of the lips, sweet and gentle.
Every other kiss Guido and I shared was virtually the same: tender and loving. I enjoyed what we did together, which amounted to light petting and kisses. Our connection was emotional and intellectual. We shared the same interests, and we could talk for hours at a time. He was more my best friend than a husband, but it worked for us.
The thought of Ivo kissing me makes me tingle all over. I have no idea what I’m doing, and before our wedding night, I’m going to have to tell Ivo the truth. I’ve never spoken of my and Guido’s personal relationship. No one knows that we were never intimate. I’m almost twenty-four years old, and I’m still a virgin.
Today, I’ve gone through the gamut of emotions as I walked through the halls of this house that was once filled with warm memories, but now are nothing but cold walls.