Fight Me Little Pearl

Chapter 52

Chapter Fifty-Two

FRANCESCA

F or the next week, I spend many hours outdoors as Nonna Isadora had said, and to my great surprise, the land begins to soothe me. I wake up early and watch the sunrise, I take my shoes off and walk barefoot for miles, I wave to the farm hands in the distance, I watch the birds in the sky and little by little I begin to forgive myself.

On Sunday I go to the small church and sit through a sermon in Italian, then when the church empties, I light a candle for my lost baby. A sense of peace steals over me. I talk to the little one. I tell her I am sorry, and I tell her I will see her again.

As time passes, I think of Valentino more and more. Without anger. I see now that he is the husband I had dreamed of as a young girl. But I was so caught up in my fantasy love for Thomas I didn’t recognize what an amazing thing I had with Valentino.

My mother calls and I tell her I love her. She laughs and tells me if she had known the effect Italy would have on me she would have sent me years ago.

Every night we have dinner together, Nonna and I. She tells me tales of Valentino when he was a child. The stories she tells makes me laugh. I have grown to love her. Underneath her stern exterior, she is the wisest person I have ever met. And she is kind. The world will be a much poorer place when she eventually leaves it.

Nearly two weeks pass by the time Nonna calls me to her parlor. On her lap is the black leather-bound book she held clasped in her hands the first day I arrived here. She smiles softly at me. “It is time for you to return to America.”

“Are you kicking me out?” I ask, my lips pulling into a smile.

She holds the book out. “Your life is not here. It is with your husband.”

“What is this?” I ask, turning the book over in my hands. A folder of thick parchment falls out of it. I retrieve it from the floor, and look at Nonna Isadora.

“Read it,” she says softly.

I unfold it curiously and the first thing that catches my eye is my father’s name. Paulo Barbieri. I frown and sit on the chair behind me to read the document. I quickly devour each word, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

It’s titled:

Transfer of Property Ownership

I, Paul Barbieri, at this moment, declare and confirm that due to financial constraints and the inability to repay the debts I owe to Valentino Barone, voluntarily transfer ownership of Terra de Barbieri to Valentino Barone.

I acknowledge that this document proves that the above property is no longer associated with me and has been vested upon Valentino Barone.

This document is legal and binding.

I further assert that I do not sign this under coercion or duress.

I skim to the bottom of the page and realize that Nonno’s signature was there, as a witness, along with Zio Marco’s. The most shocking point in this document is that it is dated from two years ago, before my father’s death.

My mouth falls open. I read the words over again. I look up at Nonna full of confusion.

“But I owned Terra de Barbieri and the land was signed over to Valentino by my grandfather after my marriage.”

Nonna shakes her head gently. “No. You never owned it. Your husband did not need to marry you to have it.”

Through the confusion realization dawns. My father was indebted to Valentino before his death and had signed off the Terra de Barbieri to him. The land was never mine. It had belonged to Valentino all this while.

Shocked by my discovery, I take my phone out and call Nonno. We haven’t spoken since I left for Italy, but he picks up immediately.

“Hello, Francesca.”

“The Terra de Barbieri was never mine,” I say in a shocked voice. “It has always belonged to Valentino, even before Father’s death. It was never mine.”

“It was never yours,” he confirms quietly.

“Oh my God. Then why did Valentino marry me? I thought he married me to get the Terra de Barbieri.”

“He married you because he wanted you,” Nonno says. “He has always been in possession of the Terra de Barbieri, but no one knew because one of the conditions of the sale was complete secrecy. Your father enjoyed the silence because he was too embarrassed to tell people that he lost the only property of value our family had. And so the secret was kept until he died.”

“Does Mama know this?”

“No. She doesn’t.”

My chest begins to heave. I have a thousand questions and want to get it all out at once. “You said Valentino married me because he wanted me. But how could he want me when he didn’t know me? We met for the first time in your office that day?—”

“He saw you years before that. He only came to collect that day at the office.”

“When was this? When did he meet me?”

“I can’t give you the answer to that,” my grandfather says. “You know where to get the answers you’re looking for.”

He hangs up the phone abruptly, leaving me reeling. God, I’ve been such a fool. Nonna Isadora was right. Valentino loves me, or at least he did. Before I screwed it all up. I turn to look at Nonna.

“If the property was already Valentino’s, why were all the other bosses trying to get it?”

“Because your father tried to sell what wasn’t his. He started negotiations with the other bosses and put you in danger. That is why Valentino hated him so much.”

I exhale slowly. “I’m returning to New York today.”

“Good. It’s time to get your husband back.”

My bravado deserts me when the taxi pulls up at the house. I’ve been pumped from the parlor of Nonna Isadora down to the airport in New York. But now that I’m in front of Valentino's house, my courage has deserted me.

I sent a text to Roberto and he told me Valentino was in his home office, so I took the steps up to the office, my heart beating so loud I could hear it in my chest.

What if he rejects me again?

Will I be able to recover from a second rejection?

Vance is standing before Valentino’s door, and his eyes narrow when he sees me coming. “Hello, Vance. Is Valentino in there?”

“Yes, La Signorina Barbieri, but I cannot let you in.”

It doesn’t skip my notice that he called me La Signorina Barbieri instead of La Signora Barone.

“Why not?”

“I’ll have to confirm it with him.”

“Fine.” I swallow my hurt and cross my arms. “Go and confirm it.”

Vance disappears into the room and is gone for no more than a moment before he reappears.

“So?”

“He doesn’t want to see you,” he says. “He advises you to leave before he orders me to escort you out.”

I suck in a breath. I had been so full of hope the rejection hurt like crazy. For one moment, I consider leaving and never coming back, but in my mind, the transfer of property is fluttering out of my hand onto the floor. He loved me once so much he was willing to go to all that trouble and secrecy for years. No, he deserves better. He deserves a woman who will fight for him. I duck quickly and run past Vance. I catch him by surprise, so I sweep into the office before he can stop me.

Valentino looks up from some papers on his desk and our eyes meet. There’s nothing in his eyes as he looks at me. No sparkle. No warmth. No affection. Just dead gray eyes. I shiver with fear. I’ve lost him.

“I’m so sorry, Boss. She barged in and I didn’t want to hurt her.” Vance appears beside me.

“It’s okay.” Valentino nods. “You can leave.”

When Vance shuts the door, Valentino looks at me. “This is my place of work. You can’t simply barge into my office after I’ve given clear orders to your family and my staff that you are not to step inside here.”

My throat closes up at the harsh tone with which he scolds me. This is not the Valentino I know.

“The only reason I didn’t let Vance throw you out is because you used to be my wife and his boss. Now you’re neither. I want you to leave with your respect intact. And you should go now before I change my mind.”

I take a step back, scared and confused. I don’t recognize this man sitting in front of me, so I don’t know how to deal with him. My mouth falls open.

“For how long will you punish me?”

“Excuse me?” He frowns.

“For how long will you punish me?” I ask, my voice is trembling with pain. “I’m hurting. I need you.”

He looks away from me for a moment, and when his gaze returns to mine again, it’s even harsher than before.

He laughs darkly.

“If you think appealing to my emotions will get you anywhere, you’ve failed. That man is gone. The man who fell over himself at the sight of you is gone. He’s never coming back. I don’t care if you’re hurting; get your comfort elsewhere. We’re done. How many times do I have to say it before it clicks, hmm?”

“I lost my baby?—”

“Because you disobeyed your husband and went to see your boyfriend!” he cuts in. “Don’t forget that part.”

“I was going to tell him to leave me alone. I never loved Thomas. I never did!” I cry. “Valentino, I love you.”

There’s no reaction to my words. Not even a flicker. He shakes his head.

“Empty words,” he scoffs. “That ship sailed weeks ago, Francesca. Move on. I have. This is what you wanted, and I’ve given it to you, make the most of it. Now, you don’t have to sneak around to see Thomas. You can marry him if you like. As a goodwill gesture, I’ll send a financial gift, a college fund for your children, seeing that he will be poor for the rest of his life.”

His words cut through my chest, and I have to look down to the floor so he does not see how much he has hurt me. Valentino is not playing around, and his unforgiving, inflexible expression tells me he means everything he says. He doesn’t even hate me. He feels nothing. Before he couldn’t bring himself to call Thomas by name. He would always call him the freckled maggot or the maggot. Even that is gone.

Fresh heartbreak numbs my system, and suddenly, I wish I had never come here. Nonna Isadora is wrong. It’s too late.

He looks at me like I’m a beggar sitting on the sidewalk. A pitiful creature that needs his charity. I turn away, unable to bear his indifference any longer, and race for the door, but my foot catches on one of the legs of the office chair, and I lose my balance.

Great! Just great! My humiliation will be complete when I end up face down on his floor. I brace myself for the impact, but I never reach the floor. Strong, hard arms seize me and raise me up. Away from hurt.

My eyes fly open, connecting with Valentino’s. At this moment, the cold is gone, replaced by a concern so intense it heats my skin. Relief makes me relax in his arms. I am also strengthened by the change in his expression.

“Valentino…”