I nod, somewhat absentminded, as I snatch up the laptop. I press the gadget to my chest and close my eyes. A sigh of pure contentment flows from me, and soon after, a childlike giddiness spreads from the center of my being. Once again, I arrange myself on the window seat cushion and boot up the laptop. The quality is wonderful, and I can only imagine what the newest version is like. Regardless, the machine does everything I could ever want, and soon I’m diving into a fountain of knowledge and swimming in the data presented. There’s no limit to, no discernment of, the topics I choose to study. Usually I follow the trails left by one article that lead to others on similar subjects, just like the crumbs tossed by Hansel and Gretel.
I hope Maximus isn’t like a crow and removes my path to information.
The thought of him prompts me to search the country of France, and that’s when I lose myself completely. From the historical structures to the culture, it’s a place of great intrigue for someone like me. At one point, someone enters the room, and I flick my gaze in their direction to affirm it’s not Maximus before returning to the sights offered by Paris. I wonder if he’s going there and what he’ll be doing. Will he visit any of these wonders and appreciate them as I would? Or is his business trip simply that?
A frown pulls at my lips. What a dreadful existence, if that is the case. I let my inspiration run wild and create a mental list of all the things I’d do if I were able to go. My mouth waters at the cuisine and wines, my nose conjuring the perceived scents, and I briefly close my eyes again to soak it in. Then I let my head fall back against the wall and dream up how magnificent the Eiffel Tower is and how massive the Louvre must be, based on its dimensions. The fabricated voices of the people fill my ears, their beautiful language understood by me.
My ability to speak Italian fluently dwindled once my mother was gone, but during my isolation, I spent months bringing it back to life, in her honor. Once that was complete, I moved on to French and spent several hours every day learning it. I’m not a linguist, but I think I could do quite well if I were to converse with a native French person. This ability adds to my imaginary trip, and I smile to myself as the world I’ve created pulls me in deeply, submersing me in its excitement and joy.
There have been many freedoms taken from me, but no one will steal my freedom to dream.
Maximus
Itake another drink from the crystal tumbler. It goes down smoothly, and the effects of the alcohol spread within me, offering relaxation. It doesn’t work.
Nothing about this day has been tranquil.
Several hours have passed since my brothers left, yet embers of anger still burn in my gut. The internal heat flares at the mere thought of Emilia and the vision she presented when she walked past my office. My bride, even with her quirks and unnatural quiet, is exquisite. I’ve known this from viewing her picture in the past, but seeing her in person is enough to bring any man to his knees.
The way she looked in that dress with her hair styled, along with a splash of cosmetics to enhance her natural beauty, was nothing short of perfection.
And fuck Rafael for looking and admiring.
Well, that among other things. He was also quick to notice my reaction, and not only that, but the motherfucker taunted me with it. Only Tristano was astute enough to intervene. He’s always been the most levelheaded in our group, and I don’t believe it’s because he’s the oldest. It’s something deeply ingrained in him, and he received it from both our parents.
God rest their souls.
An unbidden, unwelcome thought slips into my mind: What would my mother think of Emilia as my wife? Would she approve of my choice because Emilia has a gentle spirit? Would my mother disapprove of my treatment of Emilia, or is it justifiable due to her connection to Caruso?
It’s because of Caruso that I’m not able to ask my mother.
When I was five years old, he gave the Wolf Pack evidence that she was a rat, a person who’d gone to the authorities and divulged the crime syndicate’s darkest secrets. The council, in which my father held a seat at the time, was enraged and understandably so. Who would have the audacity to sabotage the members of the underworld? But more importantly, who would dare turn their back on the members of their family? For this reason, my mother was ruthlessly hunted. However, she’d already fled.
Leaving behind a husband and three young sons to reap the aftermath of her actions.
My family was also targeted, not to mention shamed and evicted from the bosom of the world of crime. We lost all our assets, our reputation, and our honor. We almost lost our lives as well. Had our deaths not been faked and our escape kept secret, I’m positive we would’ve lost them.
Franco, my father, assured us my mother hadn’t done anything she’d been accused of. He reminded us day after day, year after year, that she exemplified the family motto of “loyalty ‘til death,” which meant she was dead because that was how faithful she was.
Thinking of my mother, and the few memories I have of her, is difficult. No one has seen or heard from her in all these years, and my hope of ever doing so dwindles with each day. Logically I know it’s highly unlikely she’s alive, but as her son, I never want to give in to that notion completely. It’s…disloyal to her memory in a way.
“You wanted to see me, Maximus?”
I look up to find Rosetta standing directly in front of my desk. I’m not usually so lost in thought that I don’t hear someone approach. It’s dangerous to be in that position, and my lack of vigilance has me clenching my teeth. Emilia is fucking with my head, and she’s not even trying.
“Yes.” I thread my fingers and rest them on the wooden surface. “Why was she let loose?” I don’t have to specify the “she.” Rosetta became like a mother to me when my family went into hiding, so she knows me better than anyone else. My brothers as well.
“You can’t leave her tied up like a dog.” Rosetta slaps a hand on her hip and purses her lips. “Eventually the poor girl would’ve soiled herself and the bed. You may not have to worry about such things, but I do. Besides, she needed to eat and shower.”
I squeeze my joined hands to keep from slamming them on the desk. “I recognize that, but when I gave you those instructions, it wasn’t for you to parade her around. She isn’t a guest here; she’s nothing more than a long-term hostage. You know what her father did to the family and how long we’ve waited to take action.”
“I know what he did to you,caro,” she says, her voice taking on a soothing note. “But your wife wasn’t born when these events took place. You and your brothers suffered for the perceived sins of your mother, and now you’re doing the same to Emilia because of the sins of her father.”
My lips part to dole out a scathing rebuttal, and Rosetta raises her voice to speak over me. This stuns me where I sit, anchoring me to the chair. Never has she been blatant in her disrespect.
“You know it’s none of my business what you do or how,” she says with a narrowed gaze, “but I won’t be part of your plans to devastate that poor girl for doing nothing other than being born to an evil man. I’m loyal to this family, no matter what your name is, and I will continue to be. However, I cannot and will not hurt Emilia unless she proves herself to be this culprit you think she is. The Wolf Pack condemned Aida without giving her or your father a chance to prove your mother’s innocence, and you despised them for it. Yet here you are, doing the same thing to Emilia without giving her a chance to prove she’s nothing like Caruso.”
“Are you fucking finished?” I snap.
