Capitolo Quattro

Present Day

I look over at Valentina, who is knocked out. She doesn’t like to fly, which is a gross understatement.

Dominic talked her through the tantrum she threw when I handed her the pill he had the pharmacy send over for the flight. An hour later, she was still flipping out, only slower, and with a slur.

Had I not physically carried her out of the suite, we would still be there.

Now we are one hour from New York, and although I am not a praying man, I certainly send up a few, hoping she will stay asleep until we land.

I look down at the camera’s digital display and scroll through the photos I took in Rome six months ago when I spent an entire day getting reacquainted with my hobby from long ago.

Those of us who live there take for granted the beauty and history of our city. The Colosseum, where gladiators fought. The Pantheon, a landmark that once was a Roman temple, a burial ground for Roman leaders, and now a church. And the Castel Sant’Angelo, a cylinder-shaped building built as a mausoleum for Emperor Hadrian.

When I hear Valentina grumble, I turn to look at her. Thankfully, she’s still asleep.

Behind her, through the window, the sun is setting. Orange, yellows, and pinks mix together in a beautiful sea of color. It streams in on her, making her appear almost angelic.

I snap a picture because no one who knows her would believe Valentina could ever be mistaken for an angel. Yet, through the lens, and because she’s asleep—thank God—she certainly looks that way.

I stand up with the camera to my eye to see an angelic, sleeping, peaceful Valentina from different angles, snapping pictures of her. Her chest rises and falls slowly, but that is all the movement she makes. Then I snap a few photos focused on the setting sun before sitting down, setting the camera back in my bag.

I decide to take a brief nap while she is contained and could not possibly run anywhere. Sleep doesn’t come, but relaxation does. What also comes is seeing Valentina in my head with those two women in my bed that night. Aside from this moment, when she is asleep, she had never looked more beautiful.

As difficult as she has made my life since the night she took off with Efisto, causing me to worry in a way I wasn’t comfortable with, I have seen glimpses of the girl I once felt needed to be watched over. I suppose it’s because of my sister’s journals and the memories that bring me back to the vineyard. My hope is that maybe, Dominic will soon be ready to take her on full-time, and I will be able to truly move on from her, Valentina.

Dominic has fallen in love with an American girl. I have overheard Valentina and him discussing what is and is not allowed as far as her contact with this woman, this Laney, is concerned. He doesn’t want Valentina to scare her off, and he doesn’t want her to contact Laney, or be in touch with her, even though the building Valentina and I will be residing in is where Laney will soon be living, too, just on a different floor.

Apparently, Laney doesn’t know he owns it.

I have agreed to watch over them both, as he wants to keep Laney safe, too. Normally, I would not. However, when Dominic shared that Benito is involved with Salvatore Efisto, Sabato’s father, I agreed without doubt or worry.

I hear Valentina talking incoherently in her sleep, whining, but not the normal, annoying whine.

I try to ignore it, reminding myself of who she is—not a little girl anymore.

Looking out the window, I see the city lights as we approach the ground. I have never been to America, and from the exorbitant fit Valentina threw, I shouldn’t be expecting much, yet I am expecting change in some fashion. Her to grow up, me to move on, possibly both.

When the flight attendant comes out and tells me we are about to land, I nod and stand up. I could easily wake Valentina and tell her to buckle her seatbelt, but I don’t want a scene like the one we had getting on the plane.

When I move her just a small amount, I realize her whine wasn’t at all a whine. It was a whimper.

I step back, hoping my moving her doesn’t wake her. When she sighs and loses tension, I move quickly to secure her buckle. When I tighten it, she jumps.

“No, don’t touch me,” she whimpers before she reaches out to slap me. I grab her hand before it makes contact.

She swings her other hand at me, digging her nails into my shoulder. I grab that hand, too, pulling her off me.

“Please don’t,” she whimpers again, her eyes now slowly opening and showing evidence of fear.

“Signorina Segretti, we’re—”

I stop when she pulls her hands away from me.

She scowls and turns her head. “Fine.”

I silently return to my seat.

“Are there more pills?” She tries to remain calm, but the fear in her voice is there.

“No,” I tell her.

I watch as she clasps the sides of her seat, to the point her knuckles are white.

“It won’t be long.”

“I hate flying,” she snaps.

“Understandable, but you’re fine.”

“I don’t need you to tell me I’m fine. I know I’m fine. I …” She looks down and shakes her head. “I know.” Her voice is groggy with sleep, and her tone isn’t clipped for once.

“Okay.”

She spins her head around to look at me. “It’s not senseless. My feelings are not senseless, Franco. My parents died in one of these fucking things. They died, and my life …” She pauses. “Never mind.”

“I never said it was unwarranted, Signorina Segretti. I—”

“Well, that’s good, because then I’d gladly point out that the reason you have zero attachments to anyone is because your family …” She stops. “Because when she died …” Again, she stops. “You are afraid to love.”

She has never come at me like this before, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.

“My personal life is not your concern.”

She huffs, “Like you have one.”

“How is it any different from yours, Signorina Segretti?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I could have any one of them. I could be married tomorrow, pregnant days later. Men love me.”

“Apparently, women, as well,” I comment, wishing I hadn’t.

“Eating pussy isn’t my thing. I just wanted to see what all the hype was about. Terzetto’s not my niche, either. It’s impersonal. It’s actually disgusting.”

“Is that why the attempt to change tre to quattro?” I sneer.

“Dominic will love to hear about that,” she chides. “You and me in the same bed.”

“Are you threatening me?” I nearly laugh. “There is much Signore Segretti doesn’t know about you, either. Like your fascination with Efisto. How do you think he’d feel if he knew you were love sick over a mafioso? How do you think he’d feel if he knew you’ve been blowing off your studies because you want to get fucked by a man who takes pleasure in hitting women?”

Her face turns red and squishes up in obvious anger.

“I’ve kept you safe; that’s all I agreed to.”

“I haven’t seen him in months.”

“Truthfully, Valentina”—I use her name informally—“at this point, I don’t fucking care.”

When the plane jumps a bit, panic overtakes anger on her face. I feel a tad bit upset with myself for snapping at her, but she pushed harder this time by mentioning my sister. With memories of my sister comes memories of a younger Valentina. With that comes guilt.

“You’re fine.”

“I know!” she yells.

At this moment, I am grateful Dominic wants to spend time with her and is picking her up himself. He offered me either a ride or a day to myself. I chose the day. Otherwise, I may be tempted to whip her ass. Then I would be like the man I have come to despise.

Sabato Efisto.

Brat. Valentina Segretti’s photo should be next to that word in the dictionary.