It appears my future bride doesn’t think I’m capable of greatness. That hurts.
“Did you assume I’m a pauper?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean. . .”
“Actually, you’ll love the house but there will be no tour tonight.” I get out of my car to help Valentina when I see Savio walking towards me.
He asks, “Brother, what happened?”
“In a minute.” I nod to Valentina in the car.
“Oh.”
“Right. Valentina, this is my best friend, Savio.”
“Hi,” she says, putting her hand in mine so I can help her get out of my car. It sits very low to the ground.
She needs help walking on the gravel in her heels so I scoop her into my arms and she falls against my sturdy chest and it fills my heart that I can comfort her.
Savio heard about Luciano and came to my house knowing I’d come here, my fortress, in a crisis.
“Call more men to guard the house,” I instruct him.
“On it.” He pulls his phone out and walks behind us as I carry Valentina into my home, our home, for the first time.
This isn’t what I had planned, but hell and brimstone, what will befall us next? Maybe I don’t want to know the answer to that.
The house is lit, and we’re greeted at the door by Samira, wearing a house dress and comfortable shoes. I arranged for her to be at the house this evening in case I needed anything when I brought Valentina home.
“Are you okay, Massimo?”
“Yes.”
“Can I make tea?”
“That would be great. This is Valentina—Valentina, Samira, my housekeeper. I let Valentina down.
“That’s an odd name,” Valentina mumbles and I shoot Samira an apologetic look.
“Why don’t we sit in the living room?” I steer Valentina to a room with the warm glow of wood burning in the fireplace. The long room has the Italian yellow walls and huge wood rafters for a ceiling that make a large room feel homey.
Valentina’s heels tap as they come into contact with the wood floors, and she sits on a large sofa with overstuffed cushions and lays her purse beside her.
“Let me get your shoes off.” I undo the tiny clasps around her ankles and resist the impulse to caress her feet.
I’m a monster to even have such thoughts at a time like this.
Samira comes in with hot tea on a tray for everyone. I grab a throw with Sherpa lining and wrap it around Valentina as she curls her feet under her and sinks into the couch.
Samira hands her a cup of tea. Savio sits opposite Valentina and I sit beside her.
“Valentina, I have news of your father.”
“Oh, tell me he’s fine,” she pleads, holding onto hope in what we both know is a hopeless situation.
“Your father is dead. There will be an investigation.” She doesn’t need to hear ‘autopsy’ right now.
“What?” Her lips quiver as she processes the information and then tears stream down her face.