“You’re so busy honoring her memory and protecting the image of her you have in your mind that you don’t realize how badly you’re treating me. You lost your first wife through no fault of your own, but you will be losing me because you can’t let go of her.”
I should have apologized, but instead I watched Valentina move out of our bedroom.
PART SEVEN
It took me weeks to ask Valentina to move back to our bedroom. An apology still didn’t pass my lips, even if it would have been the right thing to do. Valentina was pregnant with my child and I was unable to admit to my mistake, unable to beg her for forgiveness like any good husband would have done. It still hurt to think that Carla hadn’t told me the truth about her infertility. Ines had told me after I’d admitted to my argument with Valentina in a moment of weakness. Carla had worried I’d regard her as less if I found out she couldn’t become pregnant, not to mention my father’s reaction if he’d ever found out.
Despite my many faults, Valentina returned to our bedroom, fighting for our marriage, a thing I was still incapable of doing the way she deserved it. I tried to show her my willingness to do my part by removing Carla’s belongings from the old bedroom. It felt like a betrayal of her but at the same time, I could feel a weight lifting off my heart with every piece of Carla that I carried away. The past had held power over me for too long. I needed to let it go. I couldn’t lose Valentina.
* * *
Giovanni came over in the afternoon for our weekly meeting, but fifteen minutes before our agreed time. He hugged Valentina tightly, kissing her cheek, and whispered something in her ear that made her smile, which died when she looked at me.
Guilt always caught me by surprise, which it shouldn’t, since it was a common feeling around my wife lately.
With another tender look at Valentina, Giovanni finally headed my way and followed me toward the office. He had trouble keeping his excitement at bay. Once we were in the office, he gripped my hand and squeezed. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you and Val.”
I gave a terse nod. This was the reaction Valentina had expected from me. Yet, I still couldn’t show her what I felt, that I was looking forward to having a child with her.
Our child. It was a startling thought. I’d made my peace with not having children when Carla had become sick. I’d never blamed her, even when she often felt guilty for not giving me an heir like everyone expected from her. It had almost felt like another betrayal that Valentina had become pregnant so quickly. Not only did I desire Valentina, did I long for her closeness but she’d also give me what Carla couldn’t.
I tore myself out of my thoughts when I realized how worriedly Giovanni watched me. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” I said. “Valentina and I are excited about becoming parents.”
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Are you sure everything is all right? Is it about the baby? Is it a girl?”
I grimaced. “Even if it were a girl, I’d be happy. The child is fine.”
Was it? I hadn’t talked to Valentina about our child yet, had never accompanied her to the doctor. Fuck. I was a goddamn bastard.
“How about we focus on business now? Rocco will be here soon.”
Giovanni nodded slowly, but I could tell that he wasn’t happy with me. That made two of us.
* * *
I’d been buried in work all day, and yet my thoughts had revolved around Valentina. The house was silent when I returned. Maybe Valentina was over at Bibiana. Maybe she was avoiding me like I avoided her. I needed to get past my pride, past my goddamn stubbornness and talk to my wife.
I stepped into my office and tensed when I found Valentina inside. The moment she turned around to me, I knew something was very wrong.
She looked heartbroken and close to tears. My insides turned to stone. Had something happened to the baby?
Relief flooded me when she told me about seeing Antonio, about his plot to have me killed. It was astonishing how disturbing news like that was still better than the alternative: than Val telling me something had happened to our baby. I could handle traitors. I couldn’t handle losing our child.
When Valentina was done telling me about Antonio’s plan, she was crying softly, her eyes searching mine almost desperately. I wiped the tears away with my thumb.
“You know what’s strange?” she whispered thickly. “At one point, I thought I could never love someone as I loved Antonio, no matter how unrequited that love was. And today I’m condemning him to his death for another man who will never love me back.”
My hand against Valentina’s cheek stilled. I’d avoided considering the extent of my feelings for Val, preferred to shield myself from them. I’d been in love with everything Carla symbolized—piety, innocence, virtuousness, pure goodness—long before I’d loved her. Love had come over time and then it had burned so fiercely that it had almost incinerated me when it had been ripped from me. I never wanted to be caught up in something as destructive as love again. That showed my arrogance: thinking I was above the strongest human emotion, that I could decide not to love ever again.
“We shouldn’t wait too long. Maybe he’ll realize it was stupid to contact you and he’ll decide to go back into hiding. We need to reach him before that,” I said, still fighting a battle I had already lost. So arrogant and prideful.
Valentina stepped out of my reach and I dropped my hand.
I needed to handle the traitors now. That was all I could focus on.
* * *
It was always easier to unleash your anger on others than on yourself, even if it was me whom I despised with a fiery passion.
I removed my jacket and rolled up my sleeves as I regarded Antonio and Raffaele bound to chairs in front of me. Stark terror reflected in their eyes and it was a beautifully satisfying sight.
I’d promised Valentina to end Antonio quickly, knowing I was lying. I couldn’t spare him, not only because I needed the information he harbored but also because I needed to satisfy the dark hunger in my veins asking for blood, for pain, for screams.
Arturo stood back, reading my mood curiously. “You want to handle them?”
I inclined my head with a cold smile that made Raffaele squirm in his seat, then groan against the tape covering his mouth. His kneecaps were splintered but that wouldn’t kill him. The shot wound in Antonio’s stomach was a bigger problem, but Arturo had bandaged it so he wouldn’t bleed out too soon.
“For now,” I said.
Arturo nodded and leaned against the wall. He’d only recently taken over from his father as Enforcer but he was a capable asset. He enjoyed the torture, which was always a helpful trait in our line of work. Yet sometimes I worried he enjoyed it a bit too much. One look at his eager dark eyes told me he was impatient for me to start. Right then, my own eyes probably held the same deranged need for bloodshed.
I let my gaze slide over the display of knives, scalpels and other utensils intended to make a traitor’s last hours as agonizing as possible. Arturo always tested new utensils, disturbingly creative in his job.
I preferred ordinary torture methods. Unsheathing my knife, I stepped up to Antonio and ripped away the tape. He cried out. “Think of Val. She’d never want you to torture me,” he croaked.