by Rimmy London
* * *
“You have to say something,” I urged, not able to take his charade any longer. Arriving at Givanni’s home had been more than a little awkward, as most of the family had met us at the front door. The fact that we were gone all night didn’t seem to be as concerning as the fact that we had arrived home in a taxi - with both of us looking like we were dragged behind a horse or two. We had barely escaped all the questions, Givanni somehow managing to come up with an explanation and rush us up the stairs. With only three hours until we were to be at the church it was all I could do to convince Zoe that I didn’t need help with my hair. But even when we had closed the bedroom door Givanni’s plastic smile didn’t clear, his charade very obviously continuing as he went from the shower to the dressing room in record time. It was as if I was stuck in slow motion while the world was whizzing past me in a blur. Or maybe it was just Givanni.
He dropped his hands from the black silk tie, letting it hang down the front of his suit coat. “What happened?” I pressed. “What did they say?”
After a few minutes of silence, I saw the indecision on his face clear, and the wall that seemed to come up in its place left me feeling like I was looking at a stranger. “Things are different now Loriel,” he answered firmly, his eyes looking through me. “They have to be.” I opened my mouth, but he continued. “And the sooner you figure that out, the better.”
I stared back in disbelief, waiting for the rest of it. The explanation and lengthy apology. But it never came. As soon as his tie was perfected he left the room. I trudged to the shower, repeating his words in my head like daggers.
Chapter 18
Zoe’s wedding was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It outshined even the 18th-century cathedral it was in. White linens, long and draping, flowed above us and hung around each pillar. Lights sparkled throughout like gems, and flowers with a tint of pink blush were scattered everywhere. The entire place held the fresh, clean scent of young roses.
Through the ceremony of it all, I managed to push other thoughts aside and focus on Zoe. On her brilliance and light. She had stopped on her march up the aisle to cast a buttery gaze on Givanni and me, leaving my cheeks to match the roses. But my blush was merely a reaction. It didn’t hold the hope that had been there before. I couldn’t seem to find the man I had known yesterday. And like all wedding ceremonies it was quick and absorbing, and then it was over. We filed out into the courtyard surrounded by lavish gardens to celebrate the bride and groom. Table and chairs were spread with the same flowy white linen and an extended buffet table held glazed, grilled, and sugar-coated delicacies.
My pale gold gown was long and clingy, and even though I knew it flattered my slender shape like nothing I had ever worn, my face didn’t show it. I could hardly keep my attention from Givanni. On the way he smiled and gushed, all ease and class, leaving me in a clouded stupor. The Givanni I knew had vanished, but I seemed to be the only one who noticed. All other members of the family were focused on Zoe, and rightly so. Her wedding had been beautiful, her face radiating new happiness.
Frustrated, I slumped into the nearest white wicker chair, the crystal blue sky doing nothing to lift my spirits. It was like the night before had been a dream. Or maybe the last week entirely... and now I was just waking up. I gazed back to where Givanni stood and studied his face for the hundredth time, knowing that he was purposefully avoiding my eyes. He was surrounded by a circle of admirers who were full of delight at his animated story. I assumed they didn’t know him well. If Adriano or Emilio happened to wander by and pay him even the slightest bit of attention they would recognize the difference in a matter of seconds. But they seemed to be distracted by a couple of Zoe’s giggling friends. In fact, the entire family was distracted - Oriana and Dario glossy-eyed and in love as they watched their niece mingle and laugh. Even Nonna was wrapped up in it all, traveling from table to table of long-lost relatives and friends. With a sigh, I took the tall bubbling glass that was offered me and glanced across the party again. What a perfect alibi at the perfect time. Now he could easily avoid my questions as he waded through a sea of distraction.
A sudden wave of defiance surged through me, and I stood suddenly, determined to get the truth from him. But I’d only taken two steps when Adriano reached for my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. “Loriel,” he whispered, his face looking much too aware. I paid him a little more attention, noticing how he glanced at Givanni. “What’s going on?” He shook his head a fraction. “Why is he acting like that?” Knowing I would have to give him a bombshell of an explanation I shrugged, letting him have it.
“Well, honestly Adriano I don’t think we’re together anymore,” His eyes widened, anger forming quickly on his features. “Just don’t be too surprised by anything tonight.” I dropped my eyes. “At least we’re leaving in the morning.” He seemed to be at a loss for an appropriate reply, and I had lost any desire to move. So I stood staring at the ground as my irritation quickly melted to despair. And then my breath escaped in a gust. I leaned into him, the muffled sob surprising me as much as Adriano. His arms flew around me, a whisper of Italian coming from his lips before he switched to English.
“He is a fool if he chooses this, Ladielle. But it might not be what you think. Perhaps he is under more pressure than we know.” Rubbing my back, he kept his arms tightly around me, the strength a welcome comfort as I struggled to breathe through the new pain. How strange that my eyes were dry while my lungs felt crushed. Finally pulling in enough breath, I stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” I swallowed a gulp of air. “This has just been… unexpected.” But Adriano didn’t seem to need an explanation, shaking his head before I could continue.
“You have every right to be upset, please don’t apologize.” I saw his hardened face the moment he turned away from me, and I looked just as Givanni stepped to my side. Feeling my eyes fill with moisture I turned my head.
“Loriel?” he asked, his hand resting on my arm. I swallowed, trying to curb the infuriating emotion. Adriano cut in.
“What is going on, Givanni?” he asked, his voice not hiding any of the distaste he felt. “You need to explain yourself. If not to me, then to her.” There was a soft scuffing of shoes.
“Givanni,” Zoe’s slightly out-of-breath voice was energetic and completely unaware of the scene around her. “Dance with me?” I spoke before she could inquire.
“I’m going to get a drink.” Pulling my arm from Givanni’s grip I walked swiftly away as the tears began to trail down my cheeks.
* * *
The quiet buzzing of our private jet was steady, and I leaned my forehead against the small plastic window with a thump. “Anything to drink?” Givanni stood halfway down the aisle with a cola in one hand, his mask firmly in place. After staring at him for a minute I shrugged and turned back to the window.
“No thanks,” I mumbled. He didn’t answer, and I listened to his footsteps as he walked back to the front of the plane. He had never gotten the chance to ask me what was wrong at the wedding, but really how could it be a mystery to him? Did he think I would just go along with his new behavior? His family had been too absorbed in Zoe and her new future, they never recognized the change. Even when we hugged our goodbyes, they overlooked my solemn mood. I sighed. Suddenly I wished to be home and away from all of it - away from this frustrating silent treatment. And like a wish granted, the flight raced by. Soon we were driving back along the California coastline, draped in the same silence as before - something I was through trying to figure out.
When I stepped from Givanni’s car I half expected him to toss my bag out the window and drive away. And honestly, I wouldn’t have minded. “Your father’s probably inside,” Givanni said. I swung around to find him beside me. He held out my bag with his face still empty of any expression. “I called him while you were asleep.”
I took my bag and cautiously reached for his arm. My fingers had barely grazed his skin when he stepped to the side, swinging his hands behind
his back. “I’ll see you on Monday, Ms. Lane,” he said neatly. Surprised at my new title I turned and watched his retreating car long enough to realize that he wasn’t going to look back.
“Well, hopefully, that means he’s gone for good.” My dad’s voice was nourishing, like a warm meal on a cold day. His boots crunched across the sandy pebbles and I smiled. “Although I must say, this house of yours is very… generous.” His arm fell across my shoulders in a sideways hug.
“Hi, Dad,” I mumbled. His heavy hand dropped from my shoulder and scooped up the duffel bag at our feet in one swing. As we walked toward the house I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder one more time, just to be sure.
Once inside, my dad watched me for a moment. “So how was your…trip?” he asked a little sarcastically. I looked at him with an apology on my face and sunk into my favorite spot on the couch before answering.
“I should have told you Dad, but there just wasn’t any time for phone calls before we left. And my phone was off the entire time. I just don’t have coverage for something like that, and I honestly didn’t even know I was going until… well, until we were on our way.”
“Hm,” he huffed. He sat back in a chair that looked entirely too soft for him and kicked one boot up on the ottoman. “Guessed that much from what yer friend told me on the phone.” Wondering what a conversation between Givanni and my father would sound like I waited for him to continue. After a lazy stretch, he looked back at me. “He let on that there was some kind of trouble, but that was all he said.” He closed his eyes, dropping his head back on the cushion. “But seein’ as how I already knew there was trouble - I called you dang near a hundred times - what more do I need to know? Are you gonna be skippin’ the country often?”
I thought about that, wondering if I would ever be back in Italy with Givanni and his family. The trip had been so strange - a mixture of terrifying and wonderful. His family was brilliant, somehow managing to be exotic and down-to-earth at the same time, and I couldn’t imagine never seeing them again. I looked back at my dad who was now eying me with disapproval. “Hm. That was supposed to be a joke,” he grumbled, clearly not liking how much thought I had put into his question. “So are you and this Gi-van-i character pretty serious?” His face looked as confused as I felt. “Because the way you were…” He waved his hand toward the front door, shaking his head and looking like he was at a loss as to how to explain our behavior that was anything but serious.
“No Dad, we’re not,” I opted to change the subject. “But we do work together and there were some problems with Shellbrook. But that’s all settled now, so things should go back to normal.” He stared at me for a minute.
“Well, okay Ella girl. As long as you keep your old man a little more informed?” He allowed me to smile my answer before his head tipped back against the chair. Suddenly I was more than grateful to have him with me. No one else I knew could ever worry so much about me and still keep everything so low-key on my return. He hadn’t blown up or broken down, even though both reactions would have been justified.
Later that night, for the first time in a long time I was alone. No foreign land, No Givanni. It felt wrong and right all at once. My head was like a bag bursting at the seams. Too much going on and not enough answers. After a few minutes of padding around my room, I finally settled at the corner desk and gazed into the bronze framed mirror. I froze when my own reflection surprised me. The girl looking back at me was different somehow. Stronger. My jaw was set in an unapologetic tilt and energy danced across my face. I gathered my hair to pull it around one side and leaned closer. Every detail of my face seemed defined, my eyes more vibrant. The whisper of a smile pulled at my mouth.
Italy had done something good, that was for sure.
Chapter 19
It had been a week. One week. And he hadn’t even attempted to contact me. I shook my head. It was impossible to think that instead of cutting ties with those criminals, he had formed an alliance with them. After all that traveling and searching and effort, he had abruptly changed his stance in a matter of minutes. Why? What was I missing? Standing on the edge of his property I watched the empty-looking house, already knowing that I didn’t have it in me, not today. Maybe what he needed was time. Perhaps he was as unsure of his actions as I was.
I wandered to the pasture where five familiar horses grazed and blew a shrill tune, attempting to imitate Givanni’s whistle. The buckskin ignored me. I reached one hand out and clicked my tongue. He jerked his head up, long strands of wiry mane whipping across his face. “C’mon, Scotch, I just want to see you.” I held my hands up in front of me. “See? No reins.”
Slowly he began a forward walk, his head bobbing with each lazy step. Just short of the fence he stretched his neck out and allowed my fingertips to touch his soft muzzle. Stepping up on the fence I scrubbed my fingers along his neck and patted his solid muscle.
Without warning, he swung his head and nearly knocked me to the ground. “Hey, whoa,” I sidestepped on the wood rail as his ears flattened. He gave one look behind him before trotting to the farthest end of the corral. A beast of a horse was making its way to me. A horse I’d never seen. His size and strength were incredible, his solid mass bulging. A black slinky tail stretched just shy of the ground and dragged along the stubbly grass. Cautiously I stretched my hand out, half waiting for the magnificent animal to vanish like a hallucination. But instead, he pushed his muzzle into my hand and blew out a gust of hot air. I moved my hand up to this forehead, rubbing his silky coat. “Bet you’re worth a fortune,” I whispered.
If it was one thing I knew well, it was horses. They were practically family growing up and I’d learned to read their movements like a language. I had no doubt that this horse was well bred, well trained, and born with a beautiful temperament. And the fact that he was in Givanni’s pasture meant his lineage likely went back to some sheik in Arabia. Glancing at the house I pulled myself up to the top rung of the fence and swung my legs over. He was so calm. A healthy shot of adrenaline ran through me as I pictured myself riding him. It woke my foggy mind, freeing it from days of strain. It felt like air. Like freedom. Like ice water to my parched life. One last glance at the house and I swung my leg across his back, grabbing a fistful of hair. I sat there, breathing hard, waiting for him to jump, kick, race away with me. My heart hammered and my head cleared like a crystal morning sky. The horse grazed on as he had before. With a laugh, I leaned over to wrap my arms around his neck.
“Loriel!” The alarm in Givanni’s voice cut through my exhilaration. Like slicing a climbers rope, down I went. Down from my high place and down from my escape. Had I been paying attention, I might have seen his expression. I might have been able to tell if his voice was raised in concern, or anger, or surprise. But I didn’t look, and since my head had returned to reality I was noticing something else. I tensed and tightened my grip, staring at the horse beneath me whose belly was expanding steadily in a deep inhale - preparing. Afraid to look away I heard Givanni’s feet grind hard against the gravel.
The animal turned a massive black head and swiveled his back legs around in one quick movement, facing Givanni. Heaving a gust of air the black horse snorted angrily and dug at the ground with a shaggy hoof. I swallowed, risking a glance at Givanni who had stopped fifteen feet short of us. He looked like he was about to speak, but nothing came out. I tried to stop my imagination from picturing myself trampled under those shaggy hooves, but it was no use. I knew too well how powerless I was compared to the hundreds of pounds of muscle under me.
“Slide off,” Givanni whispered, holding his hands out in front of him. I leaned forward and managed to get one leg halfway across his back, but it was too late. He charged. His powerful hooves thundered against the ground like they would break the earth in two. My foot held on one side, hooking against his hip while the black horse ran like he was blind. He shook his mane, and I glanced up to see we were headed straight for a fence. With wide eyes I turned to Scotch, the red stal
lion, keeping pace with me… and Givanni astride him. He reached one arm out, yelling over the pounding of hooves and rush of wind in my ears, his leg bumping against mine. “Take my hand!”
Defiantly, I pushed him away. “I d-don’t need your h-help!” I jostled, tangling my hand in the black’s mane again and pulling hard. He didn’t budge. My legs were cramping and my arms threatened to give out with each strike of hooves beneath me. Scotch curved in tighter and I felt the black horse snort, his belly heaving. Givanni twisted a clump of Scotch’s mane in one hand and leaned to the side, his other arm reaching around my back.
“Just let go,” he yelled, fear tinting his voice. “He can’t jump!” There was no more time. I lunged from the black horse and threw myself over Scotch’s neck. I landed facing Givanni, with my legs crossed over his. The red horse slowed obediently and trotted to a stop. We sat in the silence, our breath in the cool morning air transforming into tiny puffs of white. The black horse’s heavy hoofbeats continued, striking the dirt together, silencing, and then pounding again. He’d done it. He’d jumped the fence. “I saw you from the house,” Givanni huffed. “And Gentry… he’s never - I don’t know how he made it. He’s never jumped.” He leaned back enough to look at my face. “He’s never allowed anyone to ride him.” My heart hammered relentlessly in my chest. I was sure even Givanni could feel it with the way we were pressed together. I unwrapped my arms, sitting back. “Hold on,” he said quietly. He released the reins with one hand to wrap it around my back. Scotch kicked agitatedly, and I thumped against Givanni’s chest. “Sorry,” he mumbled, struggling to control the tantrum underfoot. I couldn’t stand the closeness and the sympathy in his voice. I pushed against his chest and sat back, folding my arms tightly against my middle and swallowing the pain in my throat. “Here you go,” Givanni slid off Scotch’s back and kept hold of my hand as if to guide me down. I pulled away from his grip and kicked my leg over, jumping off. Finally, I did meet his eyes, ready to scream at him for Italy, for ignoring me, for everything. But his eyes were deep and honest, and they anger vanished.
