“But….” My eyes well with tears.
“Sweetheart.” She cups my face in her hand. “Is this to do with Giuliano junior?”
I drop my head in sadness.
“You’re in love with him?”
My eyes rise to meet hers.
“I see the way you look at each other, I can feel the love between you. I know that you fell in love with each other before you knew who his father was. Why do you think that Enrico was so determined to keep you apart?”
I get a lump in my throat as I remember him going crazy when he found us together in the library all those years ago. “He knew?”
“Yes, he knew.” She nods. “I’m so sorry, darling. The truth is, your father was a womanizer and I loved him. Time and time again I fell for his charm and into his bed. I was pregnant with his child when he left me for her. Lorenzo is a dear man who picked up the pieces and saved me. Trust me, more than anything, I wish you were Lorenzo’s daughter. He doesn’t have any children of his own, he gave up that privilege to be with me. If I could have given him that gift it would have made my life complete.”
Her silhouette blurs as I stare at her.
She takes my hands in hers. “You cannot love Giuliano, sweetheart. He is your brother. You have to let him go.”
The tears break the dam and roll down my face. “I wanted it to be true,” I whisper.
She smiles sadly and wipes my tears. “Me too. I wish I could give you this.”
“But …I love him.” I whisper.
“I know. But there isn’t enough love in the world that can fix this problem. You need to let him go.”
I sit in my old bedroom of my mother’s house and cry and cry and cry.
All my hopes and dreams are shattered and I need to get it out before I face the guards…and him.
I imagine Giuliano’s face when I tell him and I cry harder.
He deserves a happy ending and damn it, I wanted to be the one who gave it to him.
But Mother’s right.
There is no easy way around this.
We can play pretend in each other’s arms all we want, but it will never fix this problem.
If I want him to be happy, really happy. He needs to have children of his own to carry on the Ferrara name, and I know that…I need to let him go, he needs to move on and meet someone that can give him a family life, the one that he deserves.
I get into the shower in my bathroom and slide down the tiles to sit on the floor under the hot water.
Once I pull myself together, I’ll go home and pull my world apart.
Again.
Three hours later, I open the door to my apartment and I can immediately feel that Giuliano is here.
His presence is overwhelming and as I turn the corner he rushes me. “What did she say?”
I put my keys onto the side table and turn toward him. “You were wrong.” I shrug, “It was….” I pause. “It happened just as Lorenzo explained.”
“Bullshit.”
I throw my hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“You’re sorry?” He frowns. “What does that mean?”
“It means I know how much you want this to be true.”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes…and no.”
“No?” he snaps. “Why, no?”
“Unlike you, Giuliano, I loved my father, the thought that I wasn’t his….” My voice trails off.
“Wasn’t what?” he barks. “Worth it?”
I brush past him and walk into the kitchen, he follows me like the Hulk.
“What did she say?” he demands.
“That Lorenzo and she were friends and she went to the art gallery with him and Dad was there with your mother and throwing it in her face.”
He narrows his eyes. “And you believed her?”
“My mother wouldn’t lie to me,” I snap.
“She was not angry in that photo, I saw it with my own eyes and she lied to you your whole fucking life, Francesca,” he yells. “Did you know about me?” He hits his chest. “Did you know that Daddy dearest was giving it to another woman every day? Did you know he had another family? Did you know he was a murdering fucking prick?”
“Stop it,” I cry.
“Your mother is lying. I don’t believe a thing that comes out of her fucking mouth. She was there with Lorenzo, I know it. He was keeping her warm whenever my father wasn’t home.”
I begin to hear my angry heartbeat in my ears, I’m sick of her being painted the villain, she’s a good woman who was in love with a player. “Do not dare disrespect my mother, Giuliano. Ever! Drop it.”
“Drop it?” He frowns. “Drop it? Our whole fucking future together depends on this and you tell me to fucking drop it?”
I put my hands onto my hips.
“Go to hell, Francesca.”
“What does that mean?” I yell.
“It means I’m not sleeping with my fucking sister anymore. I can’t do it. I won’t.”
Wow.
And there it is, the cold hard facts.
Suddenly I’m angry, at this fucked situation, the world, my father…but inexplicably, most of all him. “Fine.” I storm up the hall. “Don’t then.”
I was supposed to be letting him down easy, not getting dumped myself.
“You go back over there and demand the fucking truth,” he yells.
I walk into my bedroom. “Get out.” I pick up a perfume bottle and turn and hurl it at him.
He ducks as it flies past his head. “You get over there and demand the truth.”
“I got the truth, you idiot, and I’m sorry.” I throw my hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry that I’m not the person you want me to be. I’m sorry I’m not Lorenzo’s daughter.”
He’s so angry that veins in his neck are sticking out, his chest rises and falls as he struggles to control his anger.
“And don’t worry, you don’t have to sleep with your sister anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re done. Get the fuck out.”
“You don’t get to end it with me.”
“I just did. Get out.” I push him out of my bedroom, slam the door and flick the lock.
“Francesca. Open this fucking door,” he yells as he bangs on it.
“Go away.”
The door bangs hard, nearly coming off its hinges, I jump. He’s punched it. “I hope you broke your hand, you idiot.”
“You get out here right now!”
“Or what?” I cry through the door, “You’ll get your gun out and shoot me? I’m not scared of you, Giuliano.”
The door bangs hard again.
I roll my eyes, this is a fucking disaster if ever I saw one.
I get my suitcase out and put it onto the bed, I begin to throw my clothes into it at double speed, I’m getting the fuck out of here.
This is toxic.
With him yelling on the other side of the door, I pack my things and zip up my suitcase, I open the door and march past him down the hall wheeling my suitcase.
“Where are you going?” he demands as he follows me hot on my heels.
“Home.” I open the front door in a rush.