Violetta
I feelas if I'm going into battle. I guess in a way I am.
For most of the night I lie awake, trying to decide what to say to Damiano. I rehearse different speeches in my mind, each more emotive than the last. In the end I toss them all out. Damiano isn't a man to approach with practiced words. He appreciates directness and honesty, and that's what I'll give him.
At five a.m. I get out of bed and go for my shower. It's pointless to lie there when I can't sleep and I want time to get ready. Hopefully the dark circles under my eyes will show Damiano I haven't taken this decision lightly.
When I'm finished I dry myself and brush out my hair. Choosing what to wear isn't easy. A floral dress would emphasize the softer aspects of my personality, what my husband would see as my feminine fragility. That would bring out his protective streak and that's not what I need right now.
Anything resembling a business suit would make me look cold. Jeans and a shirt would make me appear too casual, as ifI'm not to be taken seriously. It's a real dilemma. I never thought what I wore in my own home would matter this much.
In the end I dress in cream trousers and a dark blouse that strikes what I hope is the right balance. I apply a little lip gloss and blow dry my hair before styling it into a low ponytail. Then I head downstairs.
To my surprise I make it to the dining room before Damiano does. I'm not sure if that's helpful or not. It will either heighten my anticipation to the point where I'm a quivering wreck, or give me time to settle my nerves.
I try to ground myself in the ordinariness of the setting. Lina has laid the table out nicely as always. She brings my espresso without being asked and I drink it while it's piping hot. I pick up a cornetto and place it on the plate in front of me. Though it's freshly baked and undoubtedly delicious, I can't bring myself to eat it.
For a minute I consider going back upstairs. Damiano won't come looking for me if I do. In the aftermath of the ambush he agreed to give me space and with the exception of our dinner with Lorenzo and Lucia, he's done as promised and stayed out of my way.
When we pass in the corridors we're civil to one another but neither of us has attempted to bridge the gap.
I'm not sure we can.
Several minutes pass before Damiano arrives for breakfast. He's wearing a black suit today with a white shirt. No vest again. I really miss those. He sits and places his phone face down on the table.
"Good morning." If he's surprised to see me here he doesn't show it.
I offer him a tremulous smile in response. I wait until Lina has come with his coffee before I speak.
"Damiano." He gives me his full attention. "I want to leave."
He sets his coffee down. Nothing in his expression changes.
"No."
"You can't just say no. I'm not your prisoner, Damiano." While I might have started off that way, we've evolved beyond that now.
"No," he agrees. "You're my wife."
"And I'm asking to leave."
"It isn't safe." He picks up his coffee cup again and sips nonchalantly. His unhurried manner angers me. "The Martellis are looking to avenge Adriano's death. They'll hit me at my weakest point."
"You mean me?"
He inclines his head. "You have no idea what these men are capable of, Violetta."
"No idea?" The words burst from my lips on a wave of outrage. "I was in the car when they ambushed us, or did you forget that?"
"Of course not, but I wonder if you did."
My fists clench. "I doubt I'll ever forget that day."
Damiano nods. "Then you understand why I can't allow you to leave. Your life would be at risk."
It saddens me that his refusal is based on practical rather than emotional concerns. I wanted him to persuade me to stay because he cares deeply for me, that he wouldn't survive it if I left.
Instead his concern is for my safety and the possibility of me being used as leverage against him. I know these things aren’t so very different but I can’t help being disappointed all the same.
