by Emma Nichols
“Sooner? You should have left my brother out of your business.”
Maria gritted her teeth. That’s the truth. “I’m sorry, Simone. I was looking after him.”
“What, like you’re looking after me? If the DIA are talking to my brother, you failed in your duty of care, Maria. Who are you deceiving?”
Simone held her head in her hands while she shook. Her skin darkened, her eyes narrowed, and she wiped frantically at the tears as they spilled onto her cheeks. “You’re just like Alessandro and Patrina.”
That stung. Maria jolted backwards, the burning in her chest becoming an inferno and consuming her in swift gulps. Shrinking inside, bracing before the collision, she fought the desire to run, and the desire to escape this world she detested reared up strongly. Right here, right now, she could easily pack her own bag and disappear into oblivion. But she had a duty, a job, and a desire to do right by her family…and by Simone. Running wasn’t an option. Her breaths came in short sharp bursts, the assault gutting her with every punch. She had no defence. Simone was right about Roberto,
but she was nothing like Alessandro and Patrina. An inner cry moved through her, and it took her all her strength to remain standing and to continue to look at the woman she loved. Simone shook her head at her and looked disappointed.
“If you knew how much I tried to avoid this happening to him.”
She knew. She’d really fucked up. She should have said something to Simone sooner. She shouldn’t have involved Roberto, but he wanted to work for her, and he was good. She was giving him what he wanted, and who was she to stand in the way of a man wanting to develop a career for himself? She’d done her best to make sure he was ready for the job. She’d made sure he had only taken on jobs that he could deliver safely. Vittorio’s little prank hadn’t helped matters, of course. But if it hadn’t been for Roberto, Vittorio would be lying six-feet underground right now. The boy had skills that could be honed, but Simone didn’t want to hear that. Simone didn’t want to hear her plan for his future; that he might one day become a Don, a solid second in command at the very least.
Simone picked up the case, and Maria ran to her. “Please don’t go, Simone.” She placed a hand on Simone’s arm, and Simone slowly looked down at it, her eyebrow raised. Maria removed her hand. “Please, Simone.”
The heat from Maria’s chest flared upwards, scorched her throat, and stopped behind her eyes and she closed them for a brief moment.
She felt the rush of warm air move past her, and Simone’s perfume faded. Her eyes burned and drove her lids to blink repeatedly. The sea beyond the window seemed blacker and hazier. She turned to the CCTV.
Angelo’s car pulled up outside the gates, Simone walked through them, and the gates closed behind her. The car disappeared.
Simone had gone.
She stared at the blank screen for an unfathomable length of time and the depth of emptiness she had felt once before, expanded within her.
The intensity of it overwhelmed her as it had done back then too. She removed her jacket and threw it to the floor. She walked to the side of the house and, driven by the same fire that she’d felt when Rocca had informed her of her father’s death, she punched the boxing bag hard until her knuckles bled. Only then did she drop to her haunches and allow the tears to flow freely. She had found herself a really good girl—the best—and now she’d fucking lost her. Anger aggravated her thoughts, and she screamed.
Without Simone’s love, life wasn’t worth living. Why does this fucking job,
this place, this fucking code, fuck up anything that means something to me?
What did I do to deserve this?
33.
The chill from the space in the bed next to Maria filtered from her fingertips to her stomach as a dull ache of recognition. Every morning was the same routine with the same sense of desolation, and then the tightness and burning accompanied utter self-contempt. She fisted the cool sheet and winced as a sharp pain shot into her wrist. The stiffness in her fingers still refused to cooperate with her mental demands, though there was some small pleasure in feeling the pain she deserved. She had badly strained the ligaments in her hand boxing in anger, but she didn’t care about that. Rage flared wildly, confirming that she hated herself, her life, and the torment that ate at her like a cancer in Simone’s absence. She launched herself out of the bed, scrambled on her clothes, and went into the kitchen.
Pesto came to greet her with a wagging tail just like every other day.
Except it wasn’t every other day. It was another day in the absence of Simone, another day where Maria would have to fight her unrelenting inner voice and the incessant erupting negative emotions. Good girls don’t want to be involved with this business. But she had found that good girl, fallen in love with her, and she had even allowed herself to dream of a future together.
Mechanically, she went through the routine of petting Pesto, filling his bowl with food, grinding the coffee beans, sipping at a bottle of water, and stepping onto the veranda. She glanced around the cove. The sea, as calm as it always was this time of year, lapped reluctantly with tiny waves at the sand. She put on her trainers, a signal for Pesto to join her, and started to jog. Every step was sluggish, her head pounded, and her wrists throbbed.
Discipline is the most important quality, Maria. Her father’s voice reassured her.
She jogged and sprinted to the left side of the cove, took the route inland, up and around the front aspect of the villa, weaving a path to add distance sufficient to exhaust her. Returning to the veranda with a final sprint across the sand, she came to a sudden halt. Her empty stomach didn’t stop her body trying to rid her of its liquid contents. Bile rose, caused her to retch, and stung the back of her throat, then stomach cramps brought her to her knees. She buckled over, breathing slowly to stem the shooting pains.
Pesto jumped at her, licked her face and hair, and nuzzled beneath her to lift her from the ground, and then yapped into her ear. She lifted her head slowly, held out her hand to him, and stroked him. “It’s okay, boy.” Easing slowly to her feet, she winced. She made her way to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water. She sipped and watched the CCTV. She’s not coming back, Maria.
She picked up her phone and messaged Giovanni, put the coffee on to brew, showered, and dressed.
The chocolate notes hit her tongue, and the caffeine added an edge to her determination. With the gun resting reassuringly at her side, she pulled a small travel case from the cupboard and moved about the villa.
She slotted the documents Giovanni had arranged for her into the sleeve in the lid of the case. A plain envelope contained a small sum of euros. A laptop held the details of the bank accounts in Switzerland and the legal documents for the property in the Pyrenees and the Octavia. She threw in a set of keys for the boat and left the second set on the bed. She pulled open the drawer to her desk and sighed as she removed the gift. She’d planned to give the surprise to Simone once all the Italian business had been sorted as a celebration for them to enjoy together in the autumn. A sharp stab to the heart reminded her that their past was no longer her future. She hoped Simone would appreciate the gesture, nonetheless. Hovering the present over the case, her hands trembled. She studied the swollen and bruised skin as if it was alien to her and frowned at her fingers gripping tightly and the white knuckles that refused to let go. She turned her head, looked to the ceiling to stem the burning at the back of her eyes, and dropped the package into the case.
She threw in her favourite pair of shorts and T-shirt, the set that Simone had admired the time she had tantalisingly removed each piece of clothing from her body and deliberately tasted every ounce of flesh as she revealed it. A shudder of pleasure came to her with Simone’s kisses igniting her skin. She swallowed down the feeling and buried it deep, deep enough so that it might not hurt her. She threw in a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and the bubble bath that Simone had enjoyed and then went back into the kitchen. That was everything that meant anyth
ing to her. The sum of the life that mattered sat in a small, innocuous case on the bed.
She located a pen, plucked a sheet of paper from the desk, and set them on the breakfast bar. Slowly she prepared another coffee while
glancing between the paper and pen, the walls that had been her home for so long, and the beach and sea. Pesto was oblivious to her fate. She took the cup to the bar and sat staring at the blank white sheet of paper. How do I write a posthumous declaration of love? She sipped the coffee, hoping the words would come.
My love, Simone,
Everything I own that cannot be traced is in this case. I give it to you with all my heart. I loved you from the first time I saw you. I’m sorry I failed you, and us. Please, enjoy the gift with an open heart and think of me.
Love always, Maria x
She placed the note into the case, zipped and locked it. With the case in hand and Pesto at her heels, she made her way to the Maserati. Even the hollow emptiness had become a sense of non-existence. She felt nothing.
But her focus had never been sharper.
She stood at the window that looked out across the heart of the city, her mobile at her ear. She continued with the call as the office door opened.
“Sí, Rafael. Muchas gracias. Sí, Sí. Hasta luego. Caio.” Pocketing her phone, she turned and greeted Giovanni with a weary smile. Rafael had at least given his assurance that the shipment from Spain hadn’t been tampered with, and she believed him.
He bowed his head as he spoke. “Donna Maria.”
“You heard?”
“Yes, Donna Maria. I was very sorry to hear.”
She cleared her throat. “We have work to do, Giovanni.” Her tone was clipped.
He nodded. She turned away, then turned back and stared at him.
“Angelo has eyes on Simone,” he said and smiled softly.
She wetted her lips, glanced at the case at the side of the desk, and took in a deep breath. She picked it up and held it out to him, holding his attention with a determined look. “If anything happens to me, will you give this to her, please?”
She saw his jaw clench as he took the case. She took in a sharp breath that impaled her chest, swallowed down the rising emotion, cleared her throat, and turned back to the safety of the view from the window. “I want you to run the Lombardo business, Giovanni…with Roberto at your side.”
The silence drove steel into her back until she couldn’t bare it any longer. She turned to face him and stifled a gasp. The rims of his eyes were red, and he immediately averted his eyes.
“Yes, Donna Maria. I understand.”
His voice sounded broken with emotion, and she pushed away the desire to console him with a hug. They’d only ever hugged once, and that was at her father’s funeral. Perhaps this was another solemn enough occasion, but the moment passed and she simply nodded. “Good, I will let Matri know.”
Giovanni cleared his throat. “Roberto?”
“I know Simone is against him working for us, but this is what he wants to do. He is adamant. And he is clever. I’m not going to stop him from living his life.”
“He has a good head for business and is personable. A good memory for faces too. And, did you know, he can hit a pigeon between the eyes at fifty metres?”
She couldn’t bring herself to smile at his light-heartedness. “I will talk to Matri regarding Vittorio’s position with the company, but with his injuries I think he might struggle. He will have a family to look after soon, and I don’t want my sister ending up a widow before she’s thirty. Maybe we could offer him an office job?”
“I will deal with it, Donna Maria.”
His eyes glassed over, and the muscles in his cheeks flickered and tensed. He had lost the battle to conceal his emotions. She smiled through tight lips. “I’m sure everything will be fine, Giovanni. We just need to take proper precautions. It’s good business practise.” She smiled reassuringly.
A smile appeared faintly at Giovanni’s lips and disappeared quickly.
“Is there anything else we need to consider?”
She turned to the window. “I have some things stored at the reef,”
she whispered. Giovanni remained silent. She sighed. “Octavia guards them for me. If…” The words caught in her throat.
“Yes, Donna Maria,” he said quietly.
She breathed strength into her tone. “Small things, my will, the legal documents for the villa here, a letter for Matri, some photographs. Retrieve them for me and give them to Matri. She will need them.”
“I promise, Donna Maria.”
She turned to face him. “Will you look after Pesto for me?”
He nodded.
Remorse coursed through her like heroin through her veins, the damage just as destructive, before she shifted focus. “Keep a watch on the Amatos. I trust Patrina as much as I can, but…”
“Of course.”
She smiled and felt a greater sense of purpose.
Giovanni inclined his head. “Simone did not turn up for work today.”
She nodded. “I think we can assume she has given her notice. But if she changes her mind, the job at the Riverside is there for her.”
“Of course, Donna Maria. Perhaps Roberto can persuade her.” He smiled ruefully.
Maria moved back to the window and put her hands in her pockets.
“Thank you, Giovanni.”
“Bona sira, Donna Maria.” He turned and made his way to the door.
Maria stared out of the window. Would this be the last time she looked out across the city from her office window? Had that been her final conversation with the brother she had never had? The leaden feeling in her heart reflected how she felt about the man who had stood beside her all these years. Rooted to the spot with regret, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and told herself there would be other times to come. The heavy feeling became dense with her sorrow as she wished she had hugged Giovanni and told him how much she cared. The tears flowed faster, and she heard herself sobbing.
34.
Roberto paced the small living room at Benitos Street and raked his fingers through his hair. “I told you before, I want to work for Maria.” He threw his arms in front of him in a submissive motion, as if pleading for Simone’s understanding. “She’s been good to me. And I am good at what I do, Simone. This is the perfect business for me. I don’t want to be a pizza boy or manage a shop. That isn’t progression, that’s a life sentence.”
Simone’s stomach churned. She lowered her hands from her hips and shook her head. No wonder Roberto had become distant. Was this how he’d made the money for her extravagant birthday gift? Bile rose in her, and she clamped her hand to her throat. “Who are you?”
Roberto flicked his hand dismissively at her and hissed through his teeth. She saw darkness behind his eyes and felt the impenetrable distance fortifying between them. In that moment, his demeanour reminded her of Maria’s when she was preoccupied with the needs of the business. Fuck the business that had ruined my life and stole my family. And now it had ripped her brother from her and driven her from the only woman in the world she had truly loved.
“You want to kill me, Simone? You would have me work in a dead end job for a pitiful wage like our father did? I make more money in a month than I did in a year at the hotel.”
Simone’s hands returned to her hips as she leaned towards him. “At least our father made an honest living.” She tossed her words at him like weapons.
Roberto stood taller and gave her a hard stare. “You know nothing.”
Simone turned her back to him. “I’m not playing these games with you.”
“Yes, even this house, your waitress job. It was bought with blood money, Simone. We both know that. There’s no escaping the fact. We were effectively sold to the Amatos. Why?” He started to pace. “You know, it took me a while to work it out. Why didn’t Alessandro recruit me into the clan? His men have watched me for years working the streets. You think you had some kind of power over them and cou
ld make demands of them?
They take what they want, and if they don’t take, there’s a good reason. Our
father passed information to Stefano, quietly and in the background. One time, that information saved Stefano’s sorry life. So, out of loyalty to our father, and respecting your wishes not mine, they have stayed away from me.”
Simone snapped her head towards him. His words weaved fire through her veins. No, no, no. Her father wouldn’t have sided with the Amatos. He was a shopkeeper who worked hard to earn a living so she could benefit from a university education. She shook her head, her knees buckled beneath her, and she slumped into the chair. “You liar. You’ve become just like them.” She spilled the words on a wave of fatigue with which came a realisation of the truth.
“Maria is not buying me or you, Simone. And the past is in the past.”
Simone didn’t look up. She interlocked her hands in her lap.
He sighed and looked away from her. “Maria pays me for a job well done, Simone,” he said softly. “I have a career in the business that doesn’t involve…”
“Killing people?”
“Vittorio would be dead if it hadn’t been for me.”
Simone stared at her shaking hands.
“But this isn’t really about me, is it? You’re not blind. You must see that Maria is in love with you, and it’s clear you love her too. I’ve never seen you so happy. And for what it’s worth, Im glad you’re not working for Patrina anymore. Surely love is all that matters. So, why are you here when she is there?” He indicated to the door.
Simone didn’t respond. She closed her eyes. She had never thought of Roberto as a romantic, but he was right. In the words that echoed in her heart and released butterflies into her stomach, words that made her head giddy and absent of thought, she knew she was deeply in love.
