Everyone was staying the fuck away from me. It suited me just fine, if only I wasn’t frustrated as fuck. How hard was it to find an American woman roaming Europe with a friend? Apparently too fucking hard. Massimo, my cousin, happened to be in Italy, so I ordered him to make a stop in Germany, to find any clues about my wife. He was one of the rare people that knew her and saw her. And I trusted him not to try to fuck her.
That was two weeks ago! He went to Germany, then went back to Italy. He was due to go back to Germany again to continue. It has been two long weeks and nothing. He came up with nothing, not a single clue. Like she was a ghost.
“Luciano,” my father’s voice caught me in the hallway.
I turned around to face him. His eyes were the same shade as mine, our facial features similar too. He was in his seventies, but my father still looked strong. The death of my mother and sister hit him hard, but his will to live spiked when I got married. Grace captured him effortlessly, regardless of her lineage and her last name. He considered her Vitale the moment he met her. The day Grace and I said our vows, he claimed her as his daughter.
Despite the fact she was forced to marry me, under the threat of death, she smiled at him, offering him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Our wedding, although thrown together fast, was a real deal. Yes, I had to drag her out of her room, under threat of shooting the door down but the moment we said I do, and our lips connected, our union was sealed. Marriages were forever in our world.
The way he beamed on the day of our wedding, proud and happy. As if all his life goals had been achieved and he could die in peace. And though Grace bickered with me, stood up to me all the time, she played the perfect daughter-in-law to my father. There was no hiding that she actually enjoyed spending time with him. They’d sit and talk for hours – about Pa’s hometown in Sicily, about plants he grew, about her friend Ella, Italian food… anything and everything. She’d play piano for him, his favorite tunes of Andrea Bocelli, Bach, Beethoven, Chopin. When I came around, she’d put her reserved walls up; not that I could blame her.
She had my father’s heart, without even trying from the start. She had good instincts, I’d give her that. Because there was nobody more I trusted than my father.
He had been my role model my entire life, taught me everything I knew. But he hasn’t been happy with me lately. He hasn’t said it, but I knew it. He blamed me for losing my wife, for not having children.
“Father,” I greeted him.
“Did Massimo find your wife?” I should have known it was about her.
“Not yet.” I kept my voice cool, hiding my own frustration at the delay.
“What will you do if she doesn’t want to come back?”
I watched my old man wondering why he would care so much about her. After all, she betrayed us. Honesty, respect, and trust were the foundation of any relationship, business or personal. He taught me that.
I never told my father all that happened that day except that she betrayed our shipment location. He didn’t believe it. My old father was actually on her side, defending her. After that, the only thing he told me that day was that Vitale men never let their women go, and he never taught me to be ruthless to women.
By the time I went to get her, she was already gone.
“She won’t have a choice,” I answered my father. “She is my wife and her place is here.” In our world, divorce was non-existent. It is till death do us part, literally.
He nodded, pleased with my answer. I wondered what was going through his head. Without another word, he carried on to the patio and towards his garden he maintained. That garden has been his only consolation since my mother’s and sister’s deaths. When Grace came into the picture, she’d help him mess around in there, but since her disappearance, he kept himself busy expanding it.
Grace was Papà’s willing pupil when it came to his garden. It was as if he kept it going for her, waiting for her to come back. She told him she loved white lilies so he had a whole section dedicated to white lilies and nurtured them, like they were his children.
I knew from the background I had Roberto, the man that worked for me for the past thirteen years, run on Grace, she had never stepped foot in the garden before meeting my father. Her life was a fancy, golden gilded cage from the moment she was born.
Her parents had guards assigned to her even before she was born. She was treated like royalty, a combination of Astor and Romano family legacy pretty much making her an American princess. The odd part was that for all of Grace’s famous family on her mother’s and father’s side, there was not much in her background. Her father, while being a Romano, chose to become an ambitious political figure with the whisperings of presidential potential. Her mother was a famous opera singer that came from a wealthy family.
Once her parents died in a car accident, her uncle and grandmother took her in and information on Grace became even more scarce. For years, nobody even knew what she looked like or where she was. Once a public darling figure, she vanished like smoke. The boarding school she attended kept her secluded just as her family had done.
It was Massimo that ran into her information and obtained her picture by sheer accident when he hacked into the Juilliard School. He was helping his old friend get his sister into a program there and those two wanted to check where she stood before manipulating the results to ensure she got it. Imagine the surprise finding out that Grace Romano, the only descendant of the great Romano legacy, lived right in my backyard.
Sophia and Alphonso Romano protected her like a rare treasure, keeping her out of the public eye. She was their most valuable asset. I didn’t have a doubt that they trained her to be a true Romano. After all, she had proven herself when she betrayed me at the first opportunity. She threw away what we could have had, could have been, for her loyalty to her family.
When she walked into my nightclub, I thought destiny brought her to my doorstep, handing her over on a silver platter to avenge the killings of my mother and sister. But now I wondered if it wasn’t a trap, a well-played web thrown over me.
I shook my head and swallowed the bitter pill memories kept bringing, then headed to the house exit. From here, I would see my helicopter in the distance. Roberto was already there, waiting for me. He wasn’t family but he had proven himself enough. He was thirty-five years old, five years younger than me and despite his loyalty, I had never brought him into my inner circle. I paid him well, but the cruelty that lurked in his eyes didn’t sit well with me. Yes, it was necessary to survive this world, but even cruelty had to have limits.
“How is the weather today for flying?” I asked him.
“Perfect skies,” he retorted. “I’ll get you there safely.”
I nodded and got in. I could fly the helicopter myself but usually preferred to catch up on my business on the way to the city. Our family home was an hour outside the city, although I had a large penthouse there too. And a few apartments where I used to stash women I banged. But that was before Grace. Now they just sat empty or rented. I didn’t even know, since they were part of my vast real estate portfolio.
It took no time to land on the roof of the skyrise building I owned, in the middle of the city. I descended from the rooftop and directly into the conference room where the meeting waited to start.
I nodded all around the table and sat down at the head of it, Roberto immediately to my left. Usually that spot was reserved for Massimo, but he had a more important mission to handle. Namely, hunting down my wife. It worked out well that he was in Europe already even before I needed him to track her down.
The meeting started, each department head updating me with the status. This was the legitimate side of my business, the one that allowed me into a majority of the buildings in New York. In this city, I was the Ruthless King. Luciano Vitale’s name was feared right along with the name of Cassio King.
My phone rang, and I glanced at it. It was Massimo.
“Gentlemen,” I stood up. “Roberto will lead this meeting. I have to take this call.”
I trusted Roberto to handle this business, and I had competent people running the departments so there was no doubt business would be handled. It didn’t mean I trusted those people any more than the next person. I only hired the best, and I knew each person in this room understood their job. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.
Nodding at Roberto, I gave him a silent command to take care of this. His long years of service and loyalty earned him the trust to run my legitimate business. I would check the meeting minutes later, because there would never be full trust there. Whether it was my distrusting nature or the fact he wasn’t family, I wasn’t sure. Roberto hasn’t done anything to earn that distrust. He was an orphan and considered this job, the men he worked with, part of his family. Those were his words and God knew he had proven himself over and over again.
I strode away without a backward glance. When it came to Grace, I didn’t give a shit about any meetings, as long as everyone did their job and profits came in. Finding my wife was the top priority right now.
Once I was out of the meeting room, I strode to my office and shut the door.
“Massimo.”
“Luciano, I need you to come to Sicily.”
“What the fuck are you doing in Sicily?” I growled. “You are supposed to be looking for my wife. In Germany!”
I would kill him myself. Once he came back, I’d strangle him with my bare hands.
“There is a woman here. I think it might be her.” A deep exhale came over the line. “I just happened to be roaming the street, meeting an old friend, and this woman caught my eye. I think it’s her.”
Luciano, you are staring. Her soft voice resonated in my chest and my brain.
My chest tightened, but I willed it to harden. Her could be only one woman. Grace, my wife.
“Are you sure?” None of my men have been able to find her for the past three and a half years. I didn’t want another false alarm.
“No, I’m not, but she sure reminds me of her.”
“Where in Sicily?”
Of all the places in the world, I never expected her to hide in Sicily. It was where my parents were from.
“She lives in Favignana, but I spotted her in Cefalù.” Cefalù was the hometown where both of my parents were born. Maybe hiding in plain sight worked too well for her.
“What made you look there?”
“Actually, I wasn’t looking. Your father asked me to check on your aunt,” he explained. “I was here already anyhow. So before I went to Germany, I made a stop. She told me there were two American girls living here. For the past nine months. I didn’t think anything of it, but then when I was meeting an old friend, he pointed the woman out. It fucking looked like her. So I followed her. I have been following her for the past two weeks, wanting to make sure. I went to Germany for two days but nobody from that festival knew anything about any American girls. Then I came back again. And fuck, I think it is them. I’m pretty sure Grace is here with her friend, Ella.”
I stared out the window, silence stretching over the phone. I could still see her violet-blue eyes staring at me in fear, the tears streaming down her face. It couldn’t be helped. It had to be done.
“Bring her back,” I told him in a hard tone.
A heartbeat of silence.
“There is something else too, Luciano.”
“What?”
“There is a kid. I think it is hers. Locals wouldn’t divulge too much, but I’m told the baby is hers.”
Bitterness slithered through my veins like poison. Grace had a baby, while still married to me. Anger and jealousy tasted like acid.
Fuck, what did I expect? I knew she’d move on. She was a beautiful girl, and I was sure she’d turn into a beautiful woman. Men’s gazes always lingered after her. Her ginger hair, her eyes like the deepest sapphires, and her body that brought men to their knees.
Maybe it is not her, my reason whispered. Once we started sleeping together, she told me she didn’t want kids, not for a while. I wanted them right away, but considering she was barely twenty-one, and I uprooted her whole life, I agreed to wait. It was the least I could do.
“Change of plans. Don’t approach them.” It was foolish to have Massimo cause trouble for no reason if the woman wasn’t even Grace. This was how much that fucking woman messed with my brain. Even just the thought of her made me make irrational moves. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning to confirm if it’s her,” I told him.
I left, shooting a quick message to Roberto to handle the rest of the meeting.
I stood at the corner of the street. I had been on the island for the past twenty-four hours and my patience was running thin. I hadn’t seen the woman nor the child. For whatever reason, the routine that the woman had for the days that Massimo watched her went out the window. As if she knew I was here.
It was a charming little home. Nothing extravagant, little stone villa with a yard and an open view to the sea. Grace grew up surrounded by luxury, waited on hand and foot. This place was opposite of everything she was used to. I was starting to doubt Massimo had mistaken someone else for Grace.
The garden gate opened and a woman came out. She had a baseball hat on, black shorts and white, racer tank top. A ponytail looped through her baseball hat, and I silently cursed. What the fuck was Massimo thinking? This woman’s hair was nothing like Grace’s.
Grace had a thick mane of ginger wavy hair and this woman had smooth brown hair. I ground my teeth at disappointment. I was getting tired chasing after my wife all over the globe. I was just tired. Period.
My eyes traveled over the woman’s body, and I couldn’t help but admire her curves. Her skin was the color of light golden tan, like she spent a lot of time in the sun. But underneath that barely there tan, you could tell she had a fair complexion. She was a beautiful young woman, similar build as my wife.
She stuffed her headphones into her ear, then stretched her legs. They were long and toned. The hat was pulled down far on her forehead, and I wished I could see her face that was hidden by the hat.
A minute of stretching and she took off into a light jog. I watched her till she disappeared from the view, a sinking feeling heavy in my stomach.
Where are you, Grace? The silent question lingered on my lips.
I would find her eventually. She couldn’t hide from me forever. Before my life was over on this Earth, I’d find her. Fuck, I’d bury myself into her and inhale her scent, drown in her stunning eyes. Her betrayal didn’t diminish my need for her.
Not. One. Fucking. Bit.
I headed back to the house Massimo had rented for the week. Fucking waste of time. I would catch this afternoon’s ferry off the island. Just as I was getting ready to enter the gate of our own residence, I saw the woman again jogging along the beach. Her body was covered in a light sweat. Although there was a light breeze coming off the sea, the temperature was already rising. It tended to stay warm in these parts till late October and the winters were mild.
My eyes lingered on the jogger, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her, her body soft despite the physical exercise that she obviously put her body through. She raised her hand and waved. I followed the direction of her greeting and saw her waving at the ice cream shop owner.
Definitely not Grace. She never socialized with people outside her circle. Gabriella was her only friend and both of them kept their circle small. In fact, Grace hated being the center of attention anywhere and everywhere. And most of all, she hated physical exercise.
I entered the house with the bitter taste in my mouth.
“Did you see her?” It was Massimo’s greeting to me. He was sure that was her.
“That’s not her,” I told him, heading for the little mini bar. It was barely nine in the morning, but I needed a stiff one.
The look of disbelief on his face was almost comical, if it wasn’t for the heavy lead in my stomach. And agitation.
“Fuck, I was sure that was her,” he muttered. “And that friend of hers. Both of them.”
“I didn’t see her friend, but the woman I saw couldn’t be Grace nor her friend.”
I strode over to the balcony, overlooking the sea. My wife’s fucking eyes were haunting me. Everything about her was taunting me, reminding me of what I could have had. If only I hadn’t fallen for one Romano.
“We are catching the first ferry in the afternoon.”
“That’s at three p.m.”
It couldn’t be fucking soon enough.
I needed to get back to business. Bringing down the Romano family.
Several hours later, Massimo loaded our luggage into the car. We sat in the back of the convertible, waiting for the damn driver to get moving. I felt the tension itching my skin, the pressure of the day ready to explode. It was all her fault. She had the worst effect on me.
The driver finally decided to get a move on. He drove so slowly, I might as well have walked to the damn ferry. I took a deep breath, keeping a lid on my temper. It wasn’t his fault I couldn’t locate my wife.
Until the latest stunt her uncle pulled, trying to proclaim her dead and get all Grace’s inheritance, I was convinced her family was financing her hideout. Otherwise, there was no way she could have survived on the run for that long. And with a friend at that. But now I wasn’t so sure. Now, I questioned everything.
Goddamn woman!
We approached the ice cream shop by the beach and my eyes traveled over the few guests sitting there. I spotted the jogger from this morning right away. She didn’t have a baseball hat on anymore, but I’d recognize that body anywhere. Her back was to us, leaned against the stone flower bed, speaking with a few women and the old man who I guessed must be the ice cream shop owner. She wore a light white summer thinned strap dress, her thick brown hair falling down her back in a soft shining curtain.
“Damn, I was sure that was her,” Massimo muttered under his breath, spotting her. “Different hair but-”
The driver stopped at the crosswalk to allow pedestrians to cross. I hated that I kept staring at the woman. I had sunglasses on so at least it wasn’t visible. There was just something about her that was captivating. No other woman besides Grace ever captured my attention like this. One of the other women spoke vividly, like there was a fucking mime show going on.
Curiosity had me watching her like a hawk, eager to see at least part of her face. Her arms twisted behind her back, her right hand wrapping around her left wrist, stretching her back. I narrowed my gaze. It was something Grace used to do.
The driver shifted the gear into drive.
“Stop,” I ordered him.
The woman was completely oblivious to anyone but her friend speaking to her. The words of an Italian woman with a heavy accent traveled over, her hands up in the air. I had no idea what she said, but the young jogger threw her head backwards and a melodious laugh traveled over the sea fragrant breeze to me. And my heart froze.
“What is it, Luciano?” Massimo asked.
“Wait,” I told him.
I waited for another sound from her. I just needed to hear a word leave those lips, hear her voice, and I’d know for sure.
Massimo and I sat in the car, in the middle of the road by the ice cream shop but nobody seemed to care. This place was so small, there was not even a need for a car.
Another melodious laughter.
“Mamma, Mamma.” A child’s voice reached over, but I kept my eyes locked on the woman. I refused to blink, worried I’d miss a clue. Like it was a life-or-death situation.
The woman turned her head in the direction of the little boy’s voice and that’s when I saw her. That fair, creamy skin with a light tan and luscious lips curved in happiness.
“Hey baby,” she exclaimed and ran towards the little boy, a wide smile spread on that beautiful face. Her profile, her mouth, that nose. Fuck, it was her.
“It’s her.” My voice strained. Fuck, maybe it shook for a second too, but I kept my eyes glued on her form. There was no way I’d let her out of my sight now. She colored her ginger red hair into a rich brown. I didn’t like it. Scratch that, I hated it. But her voice, her smile, her face… they were all still there.
She looked radiant, happy. The smile on her lips used to be the one she gave me. She used to smile only at me like that. But not anymore. She was at the boy’s side in a few quick strides and picked him up into the air, while he giggled happily, spreading his hands wide open.
“Mamma,” he squealed. The boy couldn’t be older than three, maybe two.
The anger and bitterness swelled inside me. I had never felt hatred like this. And I fucking hated her uncle. Hated her family. But this was different, even more personal. It was hate mixed with regret, and another feeling I wasn’t willing to analyze.
Grace’s happy laugh carried on over to us. Everyone’s eyes were on them, smiling. They all knew her. The little boy had a beach hat on that hid his face from my sight. I wondered if he looked like his mother, had her eyes. I reluctantly had to admit that my wife was even more beautiful now than when I met her. The naive and scared young woman of barely twenty-one was gone and in her place was a beautiful woman that took your breath away. And I still wanted her, even seeing her with a child by another man. I needed her like the oxygen I breathed.
Well, I’ll have to suffocate that need! By any means necessary.
“Hey, woman. I want a happy greeting like that, too.” I recognized her best friend; she changed her hair too.
Grace chuckled softly. “Awww, Ella. I missed you, baby.” A burst of laughter echoed, carrying on the breeze, mixing with ocean waves.
All three of them seemed happy. Truly happy.
The memory of that last time I saw my wife played on repeat in my mind. The look of finality in her eyes as I pulled the trigger and then sent her away. It looked like she got over it pretty damn quick.
“Who wants to go to the beach?” Grace’s soft voice teased. It was even softer than I remembered. Her happy laughter mixed with the sounds of the waves, the smell of the sea salt air in the breeze. It would forever remind me of my own bitterness and loss.
“Io. Io.” The boy beamed. “Mama, giù.” He demanded to be put down.
“First my kisses.” She showered kisses on the boy’s belly and he wiggled. It felt like being stabbed over and over again, in the sweetest agony.
“Mama, giù,” he demanded, giggly.
“Little boy is bossy,” the ice cream shop owner yelled over to my wife with a wide smile. “Must be like his papà.”
Grace glanced in the direction of the old man and smiled. “No, he’s better than his papà.”
Who is the boy’s father?
The boy put his chubby hands on Grace’s face, and she kissed his palms one at the time.
“Gelato,” he demanded.
“He is turning into an Italian,” Ella, her best friend, came up to both of them as Grace put the boy onto his feet. “He’s speaking more Italian than English.”
Grace chuckled. “Seems appropriate since we are in Italy. C’mon, Ella. Let’s go get a gelato.”
Ella groaned. “Ugh, not you too.”
Grace laughed happily. “Don’t worry. It is one of the few words I know.” She turned her eyes to her son. “So gelato then spiaggia?” Grace playfully shoved her shoulder against her friend, as she uttered the word beach in Italian.
I exited the vehicle. Massimo right behind me. I stepped forward; Massimo stood firm behind me. Each step I took closer to my wife, excitement and anger mixed in my blood.
“Fancy seeing you here, wife,” I greeted her in a cold voice.
Her eyes, even bigger and deeper than I remembered them, snapped to me, startled. Actually, startle was too mild of a word. I scared the living shit out of her. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she paled until I thought she’d pass out. We stared at each other, her lips slightly parted but no words came. Her eyes darted around, her breathing quickening, all the signs of her happiness gone.
Seconds ticked into minutes, the sounds of waves crashing against the shore so symbolically mirroring the increasingly crushed expression on her face.
Her son, how it grated me to even think of her having someone’s son, started crying, and it was what finally woke her from her stupor.
She quickly faced him and started cooing at him. “Shhh, it’s okay.”
Her eyes returned to me, watching me with a guarded expression. She picked up the boy off the ground and sat him on her hip.
“Don’t I even get a hello, wife?” I mocked her.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes turning darker. Her violet eyes were always her telltale. She couldn’t hide her emotions.
“Hello.” Even mad, her voice sounded soft. “Can it be a goodbye now too?”
I chuckled without amusement. “I don’t think so.”
She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath and then exhaled. As if she was desperately searching for an ounce of patience. “What do you want?”
“You are going back home with me.”
“No.”
I remembered the time when she was too scared to stand up to me. Yes, she bickered with me but never outright stood up to me. It was so different now. She dismissed my presence, turning her back to me and started walking away, pulling Ella along with her free hand.
Poor woman, she stood frozen, immobile, staring at us in shock.
Massimo and I followed behind. Grace’s steps away from us were rushed, but she couldn’t get away. Her son peeked over her shoulder at me and my breath stuck in my lungs. His big eyes stared at me curiously, and I resented him.
“Grace,” I started.
“Don’t talk to me,” she hissed.
“It’s time to go home.”
She whirled around. “You are taking me nowhere,” she spat her words. “I want you nowhere near me or my son. Do you understand?”
I grabbed her by her arm, my fingers digging into her flesh hard. I knew her fair skin complexion would bruise from my firm touch. I didn’t fucking care.
“You have no say in it, wife!” I smirked, my lips curving into a cruel smile and my voice cold. “You’ve played long enough.”
