Chapter Thirty-Eight
VALENTINO
T he first person I call as I walk off the jet in Venice is Francesca.
It’s been many tedious hours in the air. Hours that I should have been spending with Francesca. She doesn’t answer. I redial two more times, only to get the same result. It’s about four in the afternoon in New York, and I try to imagine what she’s doing that has her away from her phone. Maybe she’s asleep.
What can I do? I decide to call her a little later.
Giuseppe is waiting for me in a car parked a few feet away. I warned my family to be quiet about my visit because there’s always business for me when I come to Italy, but not this time. I’m here to see Matteo and then I’m gone.
“ Buon Giorno , Fra Valentino.” Giuseppe smiles as I slip into the backseat with him. “It’s good to have you back in Italy. Hope you are staying a bit longer this time.”
“This is just a flying visit, Giuseppe.”
“That’s a shame.”
I dial Francesca again, but she doesn’t pick up, and I start to worry. What the hell is she doing that is so important? I’m hoping I can talk to her before I meet with the family because our meeting will probably last for hours. I’m sure they have grievances to air, none of which I will apologize for, but I must address.
When we get to Castillo Dimora, Dutch stays outside and since Giuseppe has to run a quick errand, he says he will meet me at Nona Isadora’s reception room in five minutes. I walk alone through the familiar stone maze of the house toward Nona Isadora’s quarters. I stop on the way and call Francesca again, but she doesn’t pick up. Now I’m pissed. Really, what is she doing that is more important than me?
My next call is to Vance. He picks up on the first ring.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Where is my wife?”
“She’s upstairs. In her er… your bedroom.”
“Is she ill?”
Vance hesitates, and hesitation is never a good thing. “No. She likes being in the bedroom when you’re not in the house.”
“She’s not picking up my calls. I’ve called about ten times.”
Vance hesitates again.
“Vance?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“If anything happens to my wife, I swear to God I will?—”
“I’ll protect her with my life,” Vance says and I believe him.
“Okay. She’s probably sleeping,” I say, and remember how little sleep she got last night. “Let me know when she comes downstairs.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Never let her out of your sight. You know…” Now, it’s my turn to hesitate. “You know how much she means to me.”
“I know,” he says gravely. “I’ll protect her with my life.”
“Good.” I hang up.
I reach the large wooden doors of Nona Isadora’s quarters and the manservant standing outside opens it for me. Only Zio Marco and Nonna Isadora are in the room when I walk in. In the perfumed air, I immediately detect the tension they’re trying so hard to mask.
“Where’s Matteo?” I ask impatiently.
“The doctor gave him some medications because he was in so much pain. He will be asleep for the next eight or nine hours,” Zio Marco explains.
A dull ache spreads in my head. “Nine hours?” I grumble. “And no one thought to tell me this?”
“Does it change anything?” Zio Marco asks.
“It changes everything,” I growl. “I have a business to run in New York. I could have rescheduled the flight for when he’s awake.”
Giuseppe walks in and Zio Marco’s gaze slides away from me.
“Oh, I see what this is.” I nod, looking at Nonna Isadora. “Matteo doesn’t want to see me, does he? It’s the two of you who want to talk to me.”
“No. Of course not.” Zio Marco shakes his head. “Matteo has been asking for you, but since he’s asleep, we decided to take the opportunity to talk to you.”
“Okay.” I fold my arms. “I’m listening.”
“I’m worried about the life you’re leading,” Zio Marco says, shaking his head. I know where he’s going, but I act dumb.
“How so?”
“You lack love for your family,” he answers. “I know that as the head of your organization, you have to stay strong and not show weakness or emotions, but your family should be special to you.” He shakes his head and regards me like an alien species. “What happened to you?”
“Having emotions is not a weakness,” I answer. “Although that’s how my father raised me, I know better now.”
Nonna Isadora narrows her eyes. She hasn’t spoken to me since I walked in, and I haven’t said a word to her either.
“Then why does it seem like your family gets the least of you?” Zio Marco asks. “You treat Dutch and Vance better than your own blood cousins. You even raised a gun to Matteo.”
My blood starts boiling all over again. “Matteo sat in my fucking house and suggested that I use my wife as sexual bait. He looked me in the face and dared to say that to me. You were also there, Marco. Now that I think about it, I should have put a bullet straight through his fucking head. Maybe now we’ll be planning his funeral and not this fucking meeting.”
Nonna Isadora sucks in a shocked breath and I know I have gone too far. I inhale deeply and calm myself down.
“You know this has nothing to do with what Matteo said,'' Giuseppe argues, coming to stand beside his father. Suddenly, it feels like a face-off. One family against me, but I’m not deterred. I’ve learned to stand on my own for years.
I turn to face him.
“You have had a vendetta against us for years!” Giuseppe roars. “Aside from almost shooting Matteo, you’ve never really shown us any type of love.”
“Love?” I laugh and shake my head. Nonna Isadora’s gaze focuses on me like a hawk. “You’re right, Giuseppe. Let’s talk about it.”
“That’s what we’re trying to do!”
“Hmm.” I rise to my feet. “I came here, practically an orphan.”
They watch me, curious about the direction of my recount. I smile. “And you pretended to love me. You-”
“No one pretended to love you, you ungrateful child,” Nonna Isadora interrupts sharply, her eyes narrowing darkly. “We all loved you. We took you as our own because you were ours. You are our blood.”
“Yes, you loved me, but ask them if they did.”
“Now you’re just making stuff up,” Giuseppe mutters evasively.
“One evening when I was twelve years old I woke up from an afternoon nap and went in search of my brothers .” I make an exaggerated quote in the air when I say the word brothers. “My brothers didn’t hear me coming because they were… plotting my death.”
“What?” Zio Marco asks, a confused expression on his face.
Giuseppe, though, has turned white with guilt.
“I was outside the door and I heard them planning to poison my drink because they hoped that if they killed my father’s only child, as my father’s nephews, they would inherit his empire of sin.”
Nonna Isadora ages right before my eyes. I have never seen her look so small or so shriveled.
“The plan was to offer me a poisoned drink after we finished playing our nightly board game. That night it was scrabble. I couldn’t believe they would go through with it. But that night they did it. I held on to the glass while my dear blood brothers kept persuading me to drink it. Eventually, I took a gulp but kept it in my mouth. When no one was looking I spat it into a flower vase. It was the last time I ever accepted an open drink or trusted any of them again.”
Giuseppe clears his throat, but he doesn’t refute my words. God knows I’d have fucking punched him right there if he made me look like a liar. I’ve held on to this story for years, preparing to take it to my grave. But I won’t let them act like I’m the monster when they made me this way.
“Giuseppe?” Nonna Isadora glances at her son. “Tell me this isn’t true,” she pleads. I’ve never heard her sound so lost and defeated.
Zio Marco hasn’t said anything, but his shock is evident.
“Tell me it isn’t true!” Nonna yells suddenly.
“It’s true!” Giuseppe shouts back. “But we were just kids and we didn’t understand the consequences of what we were doing. We were jealous of him. You showed him more love than you did to us. You pretended it was because he was a poor motherless kid, but he was clearly your favorite. He could do no wrong.”
Zio Marco looks at him despairingly. “You’re a disappointment. A disappointment. All of you. Valentino is your brother. How could you?”
“He was cocky and arrogant,” Giuseppe fires back. “He still is, but we’ve all learned to live with it. When we were children, it was unbearable.”
“So you plotted to have him killed?” Zio Marco shook his head. “ Oh Dio !”
“I was not cocky and unbearable,” I say to Giuseppe. “You just wanted what was mine. You still do.”
“No, I don’t,” he denies hotly.
I laugh with disbelief. “Don’t tell me you don’t want La Terra De Barbieri.”
“Everyone wants that,” he snaps back angrily.
“There you go, but no worries. You don’t deserve it, but you’ll get a piece of it.”
“Valentino, you must find it in your heart to forgive and forg-” Nonna Isadora starts.
I shake my head. The hurt I felt that day has never gone away and made me distrustful of people. “Don’t worry, Nonna. Nothing has changed. You called me an ungrateful child so I showed you why I am this way.”
“Valentino,” Zio Marco walks towards me. “Please. Let’s?—”
My phone beeps in my pocket and I take it out to see Vance’s name on the screen. I immediately turn away from Zio Marco and take the call.
“Vance.” My voice is sharp and urgent. I’d told him to let me know when Francesca leaves our bedroom, and I’m certain that’s why he’s calling.
“Your wife has come down to the kitchen.”
“Then give the phone to her,” I say impatiently.
There’s a shuffle on Vance’s end, then I hear him say, “La Signora Barone, the Boss wants to speak to you.”
To my shock, Francesca shuts him down in a cold voice. “Get that phone away from me and tell your boss to fuck off.”
The blood in my veins turns to ice. Her harsh words crush my heart. What the fuck? Where did that come from? What has happened to cause such venom? When I left home this morning, we were happy. What could have happened between the time I left the house and now?
“Did you hear that, Boss?” Vance asks sheepishly.
“Yeah, step away from her,” I order.
“Hmmm… she’s gone back upstairs.” Vance sounds upset, and I know it’s because Francesca has openly disrespected me and my authority. If it were someone else, they'd be dead by now, but he knows better than to touch Francesca.
“What the fuck happened?” I growl at Vance. “Did she leave the house?”
“No, Boss.” He pauses. “Boss?”
“What?”
“Federico came by the house. He left his phone on the dining table and she saw something on it. A video.”
“A video? What was it about?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see it, but it must have been bad because she changed after watching it. I made him delete it from his phone.”
I run a hand down my face. There’s no way in hell I’ll remain in Italy because it’s Matteo’s last wish to see me when Francesca is mad at me. I don’t know what she saw on that phone, but I must fix it before it festers and she closes up and becomes the Francesca she was when we first married.
“Don’t let her leave the house. I'm on my way.”
“Okay.”
I head for the door, forgetting there are others in the room with me until they speak.
“You’re leaving?” Zio Marco asks.
“Yes. I have urgent matters to attend to,” I answer as I rush outside.
I cannot believe I’m flying back to New York when I only just got here, but there’s nothing that’s going to keep me from Francesca. Nothing! I see Dutch flicking glances at me through the rearview mirror, but I ignore him and dial Federico’s number. It rings for a long time before he takes the call.
“When I call you, Federico, you do not keep me waiting. The next time this happens, I’ll make sure you don’t have a hand to take calls again in your miserable life.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before Federico slurs. “Yes, Boss. What can I do for you?”
I realize the bastard is blind drunk or high on something.
“What video did Francesca see on your phone?” I demand furiously.
“What video? What phone?” he asks groggily. In the background, a woman’s voice says, “Come on, baby.”
I’m wasting my time. He is too gone. Cursing, I hang up and call Roberto.
“What’s up?” Roberto asks.
“Go to my house. Keep watch until I return.”
“Is everything alright?” he asks worriedly.
“I’m not sure.” I swallow my vulnerability and get into boss mode again. “Do as I say, ask me questions later.”
“Got it.”
“Can you drive any slower?” I growl at Dutch when I hang up. “Step on the gas or get the fuck out and let me drive myself!”
There are old demons inside me, waking up, looking around, hungry for trouble.