Fight Me Little Pearl

Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

FRANCESCA

V alentino has always been soft with me, but during our workout this morning, he was anything but. I don’t know whether to be offended that he went so hard or impressed that he did.

“How do you feel?” he asks as we jog up the stairs.

I smile sweetly at him. “Like bashing your head against the wall.”

“Good.”

“My body hurts,” I groan. “As a coach, you should know that it’s different for first-timers. I’ve never done this before.”

“Trust me, I went easy.” We go into our bedroom, and he heads straight for the bathroom.

“I’ll run a cold shower to soothe your muscles.”

“Thank you,” I say sarcastically.

My phone beeps in my pocket, and I take it out just as Valentino peeks out the bathroom door. “The cold shower is ready,” he says. “Come here.”

“Okay.” I glance at the screen. “I’m—” The words freeze in my throat as I read the text from Thomas.

I miss you.

A couple of weeks back such a message would have made me breathless with excitement. But right now, all I feel is anger. He never fought for me and now that I’m trying to build a life without him, he intrudes into it with messages that a lover would send to his love.

“Are you okay, bella ?” Valentino asks.

I almost fling my phone away with guilt. Quickly, I plaster a bright smile onto my face. “Yes. I’m okay.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue.

Keeping the mad smile on my face I walk to the shower. As I stand under the rush of warm water, different questions flit through my mind. Should I delete the text? What if Valentino finds out? Should I show it to Valentino? Should I even respond to Thomas?

The truth is that I don’t miss Thomas. In fact, I haven’t even thought about him for days.

By the time I leave the bathroom with Valentino, I’ve decided to delete the text. I’m more scared of what will happen if Valentino finds out and misconstrues it than what Thomas will think if I don’t respond.

I’m married now, and I want to make it work. No man, not my father, or my grandfather has ever treated me with so much care and intentionality as Valentino does.

“What is it?” I turn to see Valentino on the phone, his pants unbuttoned around the waist. He sounds harsh, but when our gazes meet, his eyes instantly soften, then he smiles at me before he turns away.

“Can Federico handle it?” he barks into the phone. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “I’m on my way.”

I’m disappointed, but I try not to show it. “I was hoping we would spend the day together,” I say softly.

He gathers me into his arms. “Me too. But duty calls.”

He tightens his arms around me and I wince because my body still hurts from all the swinging and lunging he made me do a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry. I went too hard on you.”

I pout at him. “No, you’re not.”

He laughs. “You’re right. I’m not.”

“Okay, I better let you go.” I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me.

“How can I do that when my wife is upset? Hmm?”

I had tried my best not to show my disappointment, but he had picked it up. His grey eyes gaze affectionately into mine, and in moments like this, I fool myself into believing that Valentino cares deeply for me too.

“So what are you going to do about it?” I tease.

“To make up, I’m taking you out on a date tonight. We’ve never been on a date.”

I grin from ear to ear. “I thought you’d never ask. What time should I be ready for?”

“Eight?”

I smile shyly. “See you at eight, Signore Barone.”

He chuckles. “Now that I’ve seen you smile again, I can go.”

I gaze at him in wonder. How can a man so feared be so… kind and generous with me? He is so sweet it hurts. I help him button up his shirt and gently push him towards the door.

“Go before I start getting horny.”

“You’re sending your husband out of the door without a kiss?”

“Okay. But just one.” I stand on the tips of my toes to kiss his lips lightly, but he holds me tightly against him and deepens it. He kisses me so passionately I lose myself in the splendor of it. Time stops existing until he pulls away.

“Remind me again why I have to go,” he asks gruffly.

For a couple of seconds, I can only blink at him. I was so swept up I don’t even know where I am. Then I shake my head and with a laugh, push him out of the door and shut it. I lean my back against the door and listen until his laugh and his footsteps die away in the corridor. The room is suddenly too quiet, and I’m about to turn on the TV when my phone rings. I pick it up, and my blood runs cold when I see Thomas’s name flashing on the screen.

My gaze darts to the closed door before glancing back at the screen. Thomas has never been bold enough to call me. Why is he doing so now?

Throughout our relationship, he always waited until I called because he knew what a monster my father was. Even during our physical meetups he was always looking over his shoulder, scared out of his wits.

The phone stops ringing and I fling it away, breathing a sigh of relief. But I’ve hardly finished that breath when the ringing starts again. I turn the screen up and when I see Thomas’s name I press accept the call in a panic.

“Hello?”

“Francesca?” he calls softly.

“Thomas,” I whisper.

“You didn’t get my text?” he asks, his voice laced with hope.

“I did.”

“Oh.” He pauses for a little while. “Why didn’t you respond?”

“Because I was with my husband , Thomas.”

I hold my breath and tighten my fingers around the phone as I wait for Thomas to answer. My eyes keep darting to the door, scared that any moment now, it’ll fly open, and Valentino will walk in, demanding why I’m on the phone with my ex. I don’t know how to feel about the fact that I’m more anxious about Valentino’s feelings than Thomas's. “Your husband?” Thomas sounds confused. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

I don’t want to discuss Valentino with Thomas. “What do you want, Thomas?”

“Really?” he growls, then follows it with a huge sigh. “Francesca…”

I say nothing. Something has definitely changed inside me. I find myself wanting to end this call. I feel like telling him it would be better if he never called again. He had his chance and he blew it. There was no going back on this one.

“You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

“No,” I say instinctively, but more to myself than to Thomas. I cannot be in love with Valentino. It is impossible. No one falls in love with someone this quickly. I am just in lust with him. Yes, I love his kisses and touches, but there’s no way I’m in love with the man. Anxiety presses into my chest like a heavyweight.

“I saw him at the church that day, Francesca. He’s… I won’t blame you if you want him now. I just want the truth,” he insists.

“The truth is he’s my husband, Thomas,” I answer, feeling a sudden burst of annoyance. “Whether you like it or not, I’m married to him and I made my vows in the house of God.”

“Does this mean you don’t plan on leaving him after two years like what you promised me you would?”

The question throws me. I can’t believe I said those things. It was another time. Another world. I was another person.

When I don’t respond immediately, Thomas asks again, his voice filled with pain. “You told me to wait for you, Francesca. For two years. Am I wasting my time? Or will you come back to me?”

“Yes of course, I’ll come back to you” is the answer he is waiting for, and I should have been able to say it to him. I did make that promise and he’s the good guy, the man I’ve always wanted because he represents something different from the world of violence that I was born and raised in.

Yet, the answer sticks in my throat, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t spit it out. The silence drags on, and Thomas waits patiently. I’m not sure what’s running through his mind, and I don’t even want to know. I need a bit of time to process my own feelings and thoughts.

“Francesca,” he says. “You-”

“Thomas,” I gasp. “Someone is coming; I think it’s Valentino. I have to go. I’ll call you back when I have the chance. Take care.”

I hang up and the oppressive quiet of the room envelops me. Almost in a daze, I go and sit on the bed. My hands are shaking. For years I thought I was in love with Thomas. I thought my love was so strong it would last forever. Like an oak tree, growing and growing. I saw myself bearing his children, I imagined myself growing old with him. Grandchildren sitting around a large Thanksgiving dinner. I saw laughter, I saw happiness, I saw a simple but good life filled with both of us helping to make the world a better place. I had so many dreams, so many plans, and now I see clearly that they were all made of sand. Years of building, gone because the tide came in during the night and washed it all away.

A tide called Valentino Barone.

All my childish dreams have been destroyed and can never be rebuilt again. The tide has washed away Thomas’s castle of sand too, but he doesn’t know it yet.

I feel pity for him.

He was the constant anchor in my life, reminding me that there is good in the world. Thomas would rather stay poor than work for government publications that don’t value human rights. With his degree and academic excellence, he knows he can work anywhere he wants, but he has always advocated for the good of the world, and no matter how much these organizations were willing to pay him, he never wavered. That’s who Thomas is.

Valentino is nothing like Thomas.

Thomas would never hurt a fly. In contrast, Valentino got his name “Silent Night” by killing men. Skinning them and plucking out their hearts like they were pigs if the stories flying around are to be believed.

He is nothing like Thomas.

I lie back on the bed and shut my eyes. Instantly the image of Valentino sitting in the armchair while the three men stand over him appears in my mind. The violence in his eyes as he stares at Tom Hawkins, the total dominance he exuded even though he was in the inferior position of sitting while the other men loomed over him. He didn’t shake at their threat. Instead, he turned it around and made them quake like helpless prey before a snarling wolf.

I feel a sliver of desire heat my blood and gasp.

Why’s the thought of Valentino’s power turning me on?

Yet, the tighter I shut my eyes, the clearer the image becomes in my head. There’s only one person who sets flight to the butterflies in my stomach. Only one person whose presence I crave in moments of quiet and loneliness like this. Only one person that makes me wanton with desire and need.

That one person isn’t Thomas. It’s Valentino Barone.

And suddenly, I can’t hide from the truth anymore. I’m in love with Valentino.

I’ve fallen in love with him.

My eyes fly open, and I sit up, but before I can contemplate the gravity of my realization, my phone rings again. This time, I slink away from it, fearing it is Thomas calling again. But what if it’s Valentino?

I snatch the phone and peer at the screen. It’s neither Valentino nor Thomas; it’s an unsaved number. I stare at it for a few more seconds before tentatively swiping my finger on the screen to take the call.

“Hello.”

“Francesca.”

I recognize the voice instantly. “Nonna Isadora.” I frown with confusion.

“How are you, my dear?”

“I’m fine, Nonna Isadora. Thank you. How are you?” Anxiety lodges itself in my throat because I know she’s not calling to ask about my welfare. She wants something, and I can’t imagine what she could possibly want from me.

“Matteo is dying,” she says suddenly. And in that short sentence, I feel her pain and horror.

“What?” I gasp in shock. Matteo is dying? How? Why? Oh my God. Then… why is she calling to tell me that?

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “Should I call Valentino? Does he-?”

“He knows.”

This time, my heart skips. “He knows?”

“Yes. He’s been informed.” Her voice sounds suddenly sad and far away.

I release a deep breath, unsure of what the Matriarch of the Barone family wants from me. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says pragmatically. “Matteo wants to see Valentino. He’s been slipping in and out of a coma, but whenever he comes awake, it’s the first thing he asks for. He’s been awake for a few hours now, and the only person he asks for is Valentino.”

“Okay,” I say cautiously. “Have you told him?”

Nonna Isadora huffs impatiently. “I haven’t. During his last visit here, he told Matteo he never wanted to set eyes on him ever again.” There’s an edge of bitterness in her voice, but she quickly masks it. “In such matters the Godfather’s word is final.’

My heart hurts for the family, and I wonder why Valentino would do that. Matteo is his cousin. Why wouldn’t he feel a modicum of pity for him? What could Matteo have done that was so disrespectful?

“Matteo may die at any moment, so this may as well be his dying wish.”

“Oh,” I gulp.

“Can you talk to him?” Nonna Isadora asks quietly.

I sit up so straight my back cracks. “I don’t know that I have any power to make Valentino change his mind.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line. “He’ll listen to you.”

I’m not entirely convinced, but I don’t tell Nonna Isadora that. As much as she’s trying to be strong, she’s a grieving grandmother who is hurting badly for her grandson. Still, I’m not sure I’m the one who can convince Valentino to see Matteo. If she feels she cannot change his mind, what makes her think I can?

“Can you please do that for me?” she begs softly. There’s a hope in her voice that I can’t bring myself to squash. I swallow the refusal and doubt in my throat.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Thank you,” she says, and her voice breaks.

Then the line goes dead.