by L. D. Davis
Perseverance
The Disenchanted Series
Book Two
By L.D. Davis
Copyright © 2019 L.D. Davis
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Cover design by Focus4Media. Editing by Leddy Harper.
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Prologue
Marco
I loved living in the States. I especially enjoyed my time at the cabin, but there was nowhere on earth like Italy. It was rich with history and natural beauty. Many areas were frozen in time, like the many villages in the south. In and around the bigger cities like Milan and Rome, however, was a wonderful mixture of the modern and the archaic. It was always hard to leave whenever I visited, but despite who I knew I had waiting for me at home, this departure was one of the hardest.
My brother Massimo was recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He was still undergoing testing to determine what stage the cancer was at in his body. We hoped for the best, but it did not look good. While my brother did not look sick to me, he also did not look like himself. He suggested it was just because he was getting old, but he was only four years older than me at forty-three, which wasn’t old at all.
I argued that emphatically. “That would make me old, and I am too young to be an old man.”
“You would say that. Your girlfriend is half your age.”
I glared at him. “She is not half my age. She is almost twenty-nine.”
Massimo held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Calm down.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Would you like to take any gifts home to her? Like a juice box?”
I scowled as he laughed. “You are lucky you’re sick, or I would hit you.”
He held up his fists and cocked an eyebrow. “Even with cancer, I can still kick your ass, little brother.”
“Not funny.”
“It’s hilarious.”
I got up and walked out of the room. He’d been cracking jokes about his condition since I arrived, and I hadn’t find any of it funny.
Eventually, we were able to have a serious conversation. Although I hadn’t wanted to face the possibility of his demise, I couldn’t ignore it, and it made Massimo feel better to get the details of his will out of the way. We’d spoken for hours with one of the family attorneys. I’d been surprised by some of his wishes and worried for what they meant, but I hadn’t interfered and let him make his own decisions for his wife and children.
There wasn’t much I could do after that besides be there for emotional support and to help with the children. My brother was still getting around fine, but he was tired a lot, and though he tried to hide it, I knew he was in pain. It made me nervous and sad every time I saw him try to hide a wince or take a handful of pills, or to fall asleep at odd times of the day. It didn’t seem right. I didn’t want to leave him for fear that he would suddenly die before I could return, but I didn’t necessarily want to stay, either. I needed to get back to handle some business, but more importantly, I needed to get back to Lydia, Gavi, Amanda, and Cora. I missed all of them badly, even though I had gone longer periods without seeing them. I supposed it was the distance that made it feel worse.
“Marcello?” a soft voice asked from the doorway to my bedroom.
I glanced up from my packing and gave Celia a smile. “What are you doing here?”
Although I had spent most of my time with my brother and sister-in-law, I had stayed in my old room in my parents’ wing of the mammoth house. My bedroom had been just as I’d left it when I last visited six months ago. Celia and Massimo had a residence in the south wing of the house. There was a lot of back and forth between the households all day, especially with the children, but Celia did not come to the main house often—at least from what I was told. When we were kids she and my mother got along fine, but I must’ve missed something over the years, because there seemed to be some tension between the two women. Of course, it could have just been normal tension between a mother and her daughter-in-law, especially since they lived so close. After all, there could only be one La signora Mangini, and my mother was pretty much the boss of everyone and everything, except my father—at least, he would like to think so.
Celia answered my question with one of her own. “Do you have to go?”
I went back to my packing with a slight grimace. “Yes, I have to go.”
She came further into the room. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. Probably soon, but I can’t say when for sure.”
“Is it because of your work?”
“Yes and no. I’ve done a better job than I expected building my company and hiring the right people. I still make all the major decisions, but I can literally do that from anywhere. I like to do the work, however. I like to be at the building sites and to wear a hardhat and get right in the mix of things.”
There was a brief hesitation, and I heard her soft intake of breath before she spoke again. “But you could work from here if you had to.”
I glanced at her again, my brow furrowed. “Yes, if I had to. I’d prefer not to. Why?”
Instead of answering my question right away, she asked another of her own. “Is that the only reason you won’t stay?”
I hesitated. Although it had been many years since our relationship, and she was married to my brother and had given birth to five of his children, it didn’t seem right to discuss my relationships with her. We never spoke about any of the women I’d been with, though she couldn’t have known about most of them except for the ones I’d fooled around with while visiting. Talking to her about Lydia didn’t feel right.
“There is someone waiting for me,” I said quietly. “My girlfriend.”
She blinked. “Girlfriend?”
I smiled. “Yeah, a girlfriend.”
She rolled her eyes and gave me an indulgent smile. “But there is always a female friend, Marcello.”
I chuckled, and actually felt a little embarrassed by that. It was becoming clear to me that my family and friends saw me as a philanderer. That wasn’t the best of compliments.
“She’s different. This is different. Lydia is not a female that is a friend, or a girl that is a friend. She is a woman, and she is my girlfriend, my lover, or significant other.” I gave her a skeptical look. “The kids have called me when I’m with her, so I’m sure you know about her. My mother and sisters must’ve mentioned her at some point.”
I wasn’t self-absorbed. It wasn’t every day I spoke to my family about a woman,
and I’d never called to announce that I was seeing someone seriously before a couple months ago. Surely, Celia had gotten the memo.
She wasn’t convinced. “I’ve heard some murmurings.”
“Well, let me be the one to properly inform you that there is a woman, that I love her, and I love her children.”
Her gray eyes widened as it finally sank in. “It’s serious then. Really serious. You aren’t just having fun as usual.”
I laughed. “I’m having fun, but it’s nothing like the usual. Lydia is not like the usual.”
“She must not be to have captured the heart of a rake like you. Do you have a picture of this woman—Lydia?”
I picked up my phone off the bed and went to the pictures. There were dozens of photos featuring Lydia, some she was aware of, some not. Certainly, she was not aware of the ones I’d taken of her as she slept. I would not share those with Celia, or anyone.
My sister-in-law looked through the album I’d pulled up for her, one that had plenty of pictures of Lydia and the kids.
“You really are in a relationship,” she said in awe before returning my phone.
“Yes, I am.” I put the phone in my pocket. “And she is the main reason I want to get back.”
Celia nodded slowly. “I understand. She is very pretty. I wish I was still young and pretty.”
“You are still young and pretty.”
And she was. Celia was two years younger than me but looked more than a decade younger. In my eyes, she was still the same girl I once loved. I usually didn’t look at her too closely, considering she was my brother’s wife, but it was hard to miss how gorgeous she was, always had been. Her dark hair was still long, silky, thick, and stretched past her waist to her backside. Even after several children, her body was still in prime condition. I’d once told Lydia that Celia was stunning, and I’d meant that, but still, she had nothing on my Lydia. No woman did.
Celia smiled shyly. “Thank you, Marcello.”
“I am only speaking the truth. You have something more on your mind, I can tell.”
She bit her bottom lip. Twenty plus years ago, I used to find that extremely erotic. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t find it attractive, but the action didn’t light a lustful fire in me like it had back then. If anything, it made me think of Lydia, and all the things she did that turned me on.
“It’s just… Oh, never mind.” She waved a hand dismissively and turned to leave.
I caught her by the elbow and made her turn back to face me before releasing her.
“What?” I asked softly.
Her chin began to quiver, and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s just that…I think Massimo knows he’s sicker than he says. Did you know that he’s known about his diagnosis for weeks? So he’s known about it and has only just told all of us.”
I felt my heart stop. Weeks? If he’d been sick for that long, then that would mean he knew by now what his prognosis was, which meant… I couldn’t think about that. I had to give him the benefit of doubt and trust he would tell me if he knew.
“I’m so afraid,” Celia continued tearfully. “The kids are scared, and I feel so helpless. It has been much easier to deal with while you are here. You make Massimo happy, and…” She began to cry harder. “He should have some happiness, because I don’t think he’s… I think he might…”
I rubbed her shoulders gently and finished the sentence for her. “You think he might die.”
She nodded. “Yes. And I’d hate for him to die while you were away, and it’s been so good to talk to you, to have someone to talk to about this.”
I put my arms around her in a comforting embrace. “You can always talk to me. You can call me any time.”
“No, it’s not the same, and I wouldn’t want to disturb you while you are with your girlfriend and her family.”
“Lydia would understand. She’s a widow. She of all people would understand.”
We said nothing for several minutes. I let Celia cry as I held her while I thought about all she said. When she finally backed away from me, my shirt was wet from her tears.
She laughed softly through her sadness. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”
“It’s just a shirt. I have more.”
She sniffled. “You are a real comfort. You and I used to be so close. Obviously, it can never be like it was again, but I do miss our friendship, Marcello. I miss you, and I know Massimo misses you, too. I am asking you to stay for myself and the kids, but I am especially asking you to stay for your brother. You know that he won’t ask.”
I nodded my agreement. “He fought with me about this trip.”
“You see? Stubborn. I’ll let you get back to your packing. I know you have more important people to get back to than us.”
“Not more important, but…they are important.”
“Right. Well, have a safe trip. Hopefully we’ll see each other again before…the end.” She started to leave the room but paused in the open doorway and looked over her delicate shoulder. “I am glad you came. I am glad that in your absence, you haven’t forgotten that family is everything here. You haven’t forgotten where you come from.”
She bolted from the room, sniffling and leaving me feeling conflicted.
You haven’t forgotten that family is everything.
Family is everything.
That was one of the two mantras I had grown up with, the other being that faith was everything. I had certainly fallen away from my faith over the years. Every time I visited Italy, I felt like I spent hours in confession. I’d done more than enough to deserve those sessions and had enjoyed most of it.
It seemed I had fallen away from my family over the years as well. Until recently, I’d been living selfishly, only concerned about my own desires and needs. In the beginning, I had purposely distanced myself to avoid witnessing or hearing about my brother’s life with the woman I’d loved. In an effort to forget about the heartache I’d left behind in Italy, I’d worked myself hard to start and grow my company. It had become an obsession to see how much more I could accomplish, to see how much more money I could make. After a few years, I became completely absorbed in the razzle and dazzle of being a single, young, and wealthy entrepreneur living in the big city. I had many friends, plenty of beautiful women, attended lavish parties with politicians and moguls, and danced at the hottest night clubs with some of the most influential celebrities in the world. With all that, admittedly, my family had become afterthoughts. Too many times I’d discovered that weeks—and sometimes a month or more—had gone by since I’d last spoken to my mother, my father, or any of my siblings.
That would not have been the case if I were still living here in Italy. Maybe I would have enjoyed some of those things, but my family would have always come first. Like my brother, two of my sisters, and several extended family members, I would have been working for the family business. I would have had other familial obligations and requirements. Moreover, I would have been here for moral and emotional support, which was what everyone needed right now in light of Massimo’s diagnosis. Obviously, my parents were devastated, and my sisters were emotional; not to mention, Celia was clearly struggling. The younger children didn’t really know what was going on yet, but Celia’s and Massimo’s older children were also taking it hard. I didn’t think I was needed at this time, but maybe I was wrong. Massimo had always been the leader, the one everyone turned to and relied on. No one had come to me for much of anything in years; no one relied on me because I had been unreliable.
Those thoughts did not sit well with me as I flew back to America. I felt like I was abandoning my family. My sister-in-law’s words sliced rather deeply, and if I didn’t know any better, she probably did it on purpose. Maybe I should have stayed longer, but I also knew I needed to get back to Lydia. Our relationship was unsettled, teetering on the precipice. I loved her, even though she sometimes made it hard to love her. Often, I thought of her as a lioness, sleek and beautiful, and seemingly cuddly, until you f
ind yourself locked in her maw with half your guts hanging out from a sly swipe of her claws.
I grinned at that, but it quickly turned into a frown. Before I found out about Massimo, during a huge argument, Lydia had attempted to end our relationship. I knew her biggest reason for wanting to run was because she was afraid. Despite all her comparisons of me to her late husband, it was obvious that she was terrified of her own feelings after more than a year of emotionally shutting down, or maybe she had begun to shut down long before Gavin’s death.
I wanted to move forward with her, but part of that process would mean Lydia would have to come clean about what made her so scared and embittered. I knew a lot of it already because of a list I’d found in her bedroom the night of our first date. It was supposed to be a list of reasons why she should or should not date me, but it read more like an outline of her marriage. Before I left, I made her promise to talk to me before she made any major decisions, but I had no real plans of letting her go.
Despite how much I wanted to concentrate on our relationship, though, I knew after talking to Celia that I would be going back to Italy sooner rather than later. I had forgotten that family was everything, but I would make it up to her and Massimo, and all my family back in Italy.
Chapter One
Lydia
I pulled a new shirt out of the closet and held it up to inspect it as I had many other items Marco had purchased. It was a simple, long-sleeved gray tee. It didn’t scream “designer label” or “over-priced” or “bitchy socialite.” It was just a shirt, something I’d wear around the house or throw on with jeans or leggings. Once I’d started to clean up the mess from my childish and humiliating tantrum, I’d been surprised to find most of the clothes were much of the same. Casual, everyday items for an ordinary person, but there was also some more fashion-forward clothes mixed in, like the ones that hung in the closet in Manhattan. I could live with that.
After almost five days in Italy, Marco had returned to the States a few days ago. He’d flown into New York because he had some work to do, but in less than an hour, he would be at my house. The kids were with Shawna and Cliff again, and my mom had been with Wes all week. There would be nothing and no one to interrupt us. I would have to talk. I would have to explain the list on that piece of paper Marco had discovered what felt like a lifetime ago. I would have to tell my story. I couldn’t keep it from him. It wouldn’t be fair. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try to avoid it, though.
