The guards and Lorenzo exchange worried looks and the gates slowly open.
I drive up the long driveway with my heart in my throat.
Francesca
I lie on my side and stare at the wall. It feels like the end of the world; perhaps it is.
Enrico, my beloved brother and Olivia are gone.
And so is my love….
Where has Giuliano been? Why can’t I reach him? I’m heartbroken and he is nowhere to be seen, this isn’t like him at all, has something happened to him too?
My door opens in a rush, Anna bursts in. “Giuliano is here.”
I sit up. “What?”
“He’s out the front fighting with Lorenzo.”
Without a thought I run out of the room and down the stairs and burst out the front door, just as Anna said, Giuliano is standing near the procession of cars having a stand-up argument with Lorenzo.
“Giuliano,” I call.
He looks up and my heart skips a beat as I smile.
He’s here.
Screw this, I’m not playing this game anymore. “Let him in,” I call.
“I don’t think….” Lorenzo says.
Giuliano brushes past him and rushes up the steps toward me, he takes my hand and pulls me into the house and slams the door. “Where is your bedroom?”
“Huh?”
“Your bedroom?” he demands.
“Upstairs.”
Pulling me by the hand, he leads me up the stairs, we pass Anna on our way.
“Hello, Anna,” he says.
Her eyes widen. “Hi.”
My mother comes out of her bedroom on the second floor and she gasps when she sees him. “What are you doing?” she cries.
Giuliano stops still and glares at her. “Whatever I fucking like,” he sneers.
My eyes widen in horror.
Oh no, this is bad, nobody speaks to my mother like that and lives to tell the tale.
“Where is your bedroom, Francesca?” he barks as he continues to lead me up the stairs.
My shocked eyes look back at my mother and Anna who have been rendered speechless. Why the hell is he being so rude?
“Top floor.”
We arrive at the top floor and I gesture to my room and he walks in and closes the door behind us and locks it.
“What are you doing?” I stammer, I glance down to see him dressed in a charcoal suit and tie, trendy shoes and all businesslike. “Why do you look like this?”
He puts his hands on his hips and stares at me.
“And why haven’t you returned my calls?” I whisper angrily. “It’s been a nightmare, my brother Enrico was killed, I’ve been distraught, I needed you.”
“I know.” His eyes search mine. “That’s why I’m here.” He takes my shoulders in his hands and sits me on the bed. “Francesca, baby. You need to listen.”
“What’s wrong with you, why are you acting so weird?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“What?”
“Do you know who I really am?”
I screw up my face in confusion. “What the hell’s gotten into you? You’re my boyfriend.”
He holds his hands out wide. “Is that all I am?”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper angrily.
“When your father died, did he leave you a letter?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Do you know anything about your brothers’ letters?”
“What letters?”
His face drops and he sits beside me, he cups my face in his hands and leans in and gently kisses me. “I love you,” he whispers.
I smile through tears. “I so desperately needed to hear that. I love you too.”
He takes my hands in his as if steeling himself. “This week….” His voice trails off as if lost for words.
“What is it?”
“I’ve learned something.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “About myself…and you.”
“Like what?”
He stares at me. “It’s not great.”
I smile up at my beautiful man. “It’s okay, whatever it is, we can handle it together.”
He opens his suit jacket and pulls out an envelope from an inside pocket and passes it to me.
I stare at it.
Enrico
“What’s this?”
“It’s the letter that your father left for your brother Enrico when he died. You will understand this letter better than the one I got.” He kisses my fingertips. “I thought you may have gotten one too.”
I frown, it is my father’s handwriting. “How did you get this?”
“Read it.”
“How did you get this?” I snap as fear begins to run through my veins.
“Read it.” He stands and walks to the window and looks out the window, his two hands go into his suit pockets.
With shaky hands I slowly take the letter out of the envelope and open it. It’s a few pages long and handwritten.
Dad’s writing.
My darling Enrico,
If you are reading this, my son, I have left this world.
I want to start this letter by telling you how proud I am of the man you have become.
Emotion overwhelms me and I blink through my tears.
I miss him.
God, how I miss him.
Hopefully, you will never read this and we will have had this conversation face-to-face. But, in the tragic event that both my father and I go together, I needed to leave this letter for you.
I’m guessing that you are reading this letter in the days after my death…perhaps weeks.
I didn’t want this handed to you until you were searching for answers. I know you would have had enough to deal with at the time of my sudden passing.
I’m so sorry, son. I wish we had more time together.
I can almost hear his voice.
I have no idea how to write this or what to say, so the beginning seems like a good place to start.
I don’t understand.
You may ask why I kept the Ferrara business from you, Enrico—why I didn’t prepare you better.
It was my greatest dream that, by the time you learned of this, I would have held the helm for a good period of time and the violence would have been a distant memory for our family. I knew that one day you’d find out who your ancestors really were, and I wanted you to be prepared.
Violence?
I don’t understand…I read on.
Although I didn’t train you for our business, I did prepare you in my own way. The day you became a policeman, Enrico, was the proudest day of my life. You learning that side of the law will help Ferrara greatly in future generations.
I’m guessing that you are searching for this because you have found out about Angelina.
I’m sorry I disappointed you, son. I felt this burden every day of my life.
Your mother and I were promised to each other on your mother’s birth, when I was only three years old. We met a few times over our lives, and we were to marry when I was twenty-two.