Beautiful Torment, page 35
“I wish you’d told me,” she says. “You shouldn’t have gone through that alone."
“I couldn’t even say it aloud to myself,” I confess. “Not until now.”
She considers that for a moment and nods. “I’d like to see the records. Do you have them?”
“Yes.” I glance at the closet. “They’re sewn into the lining of my mother’s red wool coat. Those are the only copies left. My father paid to have the others destroyed.”
A beat of silence passes, and I can see her mind working. I already know where she’s going with this.
“Will you let me run some tests myself?”
“I don’t see the point.” My gaze drifts to the wall. “I already had four doctors tell me the same thing. It feels like I’d just be torturing myself all over again.”
“Do you trust me?” Mariella asks.
“Of course I do.”
“Then please let me do this. After you’re better, I’ll get you in for some bloodwork and imaging.”
I nod, even though I know it won’t change anything.
A cold chill runs through my body, and I fight off another wave of exhaustion as Mariella jumps into action.
“Let’s get you into bed.” She pulls the covers back for me. “I’ll bring you some water and Tylenol.”
I utter my agreement as I curl up in the comforter, but almost as soon as she leaves the room, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
43
ANGELO
“What is it?” I glance at Mariella briefly before I get distracted by the incoming message on my phone.
Between searching for Ray’s hidden stash of notes and information on Aegis, my men have been busy texting me updates. I also have two more meetings in the city this afternoon, and I’m irritated that my sister called me back here—and even more so that she wouldn’t tell me why.
“Your wife is sick,” she snaps.
That captures my attention.
“What do you mean?” I look up at her.
“She has a fever,” Mariella says.
“Is it a virus?” My gaze drifts down the hall to our bedroom door.
“Yes. It’s an emotional terrorist named Angelo.” She glares at me. “You have to stop treating her like she’s nothing more than a fucking baby incubator for you.”
Those words sting, and it pisses me off because she knows what’s at stake here.
“I don’t think she’s just a baby incubator,” I grit out. “You know what the treaty entails. This isn’t a goddamned fairy tale. It’s business.”
“And you’re a goddamned liar.”
“Watch your mouth,” I warn her.
“You can’t let go of what happened,” she huffs. “You’re so hell-bent on revenge you haven’t even considered that maybe Abella had a good reason for doing what she did.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you know?”
“Ask her.” She gestures down the hall.
“She won’t fucking tell me. That’s the problem.”
“Well, maybe if you quit being an ass—”
“Mariella.” I drag in a breath, trying to find my patience.
“You have no idea how strong she’s had to be.” Mariella’s voice cracks. “She’s carried enough pain for one lifetime. She doesn’t need it from you, too.”
I swallow, turning away as tension settles in my chest. But Mariella isn’t finished. She fires off one final blow.
“Mom would have wanted you to fix this.”
I start down the hall, and Mariella trails after me.
“Love you, asshole.”
“Love you too,” I mutter.
When I crack open the door to the suite, I pause on the threshold. Abella’s in bed, teeth chattering as she shivers in her sleep. She’s buried in the comforter and still can’t get warm. The sight of her so unwell punches me in the gut. I don’t fucking like it.
“I just gave her some Tylenol,” Mariella whispers from behind me.
“I’ve got this,” I tell her. “Check in on us later.”
She nods and leaves me alone with Abella. I kick off my shoes and strip off my suit, tossing it onto the chair before I round the bed and climb in behind her.
When I press my body against hers and wrap her in my arms, she stirs, glancing up at me with watery eyes. Her face is red and her eyelids are puffy, which is a good indication she’s been crying. It only makes me feel worse.
“You might get sick,” she rasps.
“I don’t care. Go back to sleep, dolcezza. I’ll keep you warm.”
She barely has the energy to nod before she falls back to sleep. After a few minutes of absorbing my body heat, her shivering mellows out, and the vise around my ribcage loosens.
I sweep my hands over her back, massaging the tension that’s gathered there. When I bury my face against her hair and breathe her in for the first time in two weeks, it’s like a drug to my system.
I couldn’t let her go right now if I tried.
Settling in for the long haul, I close my eyes as my phone vibrates across the room. I didn’t cancel my meetings, but I don’t care.
Abella sleeps, and I stay with her, checking her temperature and feeding her sips of water throughout the night. When she finally wakes up the next day, she groans as she peels her face off my chest. She turned in her sleep at one point, draping herself over my body and using me as her pillow. She was so comfortable there, I haven’t moved her, but now we’re both hot and sticky.
“Hi.” She blinks up at me with drowsy eyes. “You’re still here.”
“I’m still here.” I smooth some of her wayward hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she says softly.
I reach over and swipe the water off the nightstand, opening it up before I hand it to her. She takes a long drink and watches me share the same bottle when she’s finished.
“How long did I sleep?” she asks.
“Sixteen hours.”
Her eyes widen as panic sets in. “Oh God, I need to call the office. My clients—”
“It’s already taken care of,” I assure her. “I had Andrew get in touch with your assistant and clear your schedule for the week. They’ll handle the most pressing concerns.”
“I can’t,” she protests. “I have so much to do.”
“It’s not up for negotiation.” I squeeze her hip. “You need to rest.”
She searches my eyes, and I know she’s wondering if I’m saying it for her sake or the baby she’ll have inside her.
I graze her temple with my lips as my hold on her tightens. “I don’t ever want to see you that sick again, Abella. I don’t fucking like it.”
She nods and relaxes into me, her fingers drawing circles over my chest.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you that night,” she whispers. “You’re nothing like my father. I was just angry, and—”
“I know.” I tilt her gaze up to mine, so fucking tempted to kiss her.
Before I get the chance, Mariella eases the door open and peeks inside. “Look who’s awake.” She smiles. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” Abella tells her. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“I can’t take all the credit.” Mariella glances between the two of us. “Angelo did most of it.”
Abella’s eyes soften as she looks up at me, as if I’m some kind of hero for doing the bare minimum. I hate that she’s been conditioned to expect so little of the men in her life. Her father beat her down and made her feel worthless, and Matteo never lifted a finger to help her.
Then there’s me, a different breed of asshole.
It’s a rare occasion when I admit that I’m wrong, but in this case, Mariella’s observations were…accurate. As much as it frustrates me to no end, it’s not unsurprising that Abella wouldn’t trust me with her secrets. Particularly when I’ve given her no reason to believe they’d be safe with me.
This revenge arc no longer feels satisfying when this is the consequence. I wanted Abella to suffer, and she has. But it’s not a victory when all I’ve won are her tears. I can have retribution, or I can have her, but it’s become brutally obvious that I can’t have both.
Letting go of her betrayal feels like a weakness, and I don’t even know who I am if I don’t have vengeance to keep me warm. But having her in my arms isn’t the worst thing that could happen. In fact, I can grudgingly admit that making her whole again might taste even sweeter than settling the score.
Annoyed with both myself and her, I kiss her a little too roughly, swallowing her shocked exhalation as I thread my fingers through her hair. What I really want to do is roll her on her back, bury myself between her thighs, and fuck these uncomfortable feelings right out of me.
“I’m still right here,” Mariella mutters.
Jesus, I forgot she was even in the room.
I release Abella’s mouth reluctantly as Nonna’s voice carries down the hall, and she makes an appearance a second later.
“Coming through!” She barges in with a tray in her hands. “Oh, isn’t this nice?” She smiles when she sees Abella and me in bed together. “I make magic soup for you, tesoro.”
Abella lifts her head, and I help her sit up.
“Pastina?” She brightens.
“Yes, of course,” Nonna answers. “Your favorite.”
“Thank you, Nonna.” Abella glances at the tray eagerly when I take it and set it over her lap.
“And Ace juice.” Nonna points at the glass.
“You’re the best.” Abella’s voice hitches, and it grabs me by the throat.
Nonna blows her a kiss, then holds up her finger. “I have breakfast for you too, caro.”
Mariella rolls her eyes as Nonna wanders back down the hall and returns a moment later with another tray for me. This one has apple cake, fruit, and a cappuccino.
“Thank you, Nonna.” I kiss her on the cheek when she leans down.
“You spoil him,” Mariella calls after her as Nonna heads for the door.
“Nonsense.” Nonna gestures. “Yours will be at the table outside.”
After Nonna disappears, Mariella settles her gaze on my wife.
“Abella, I thought we could have our appointment on Friday, if that works for you.”
Abella shifts beside me. “That should be okay.”
“For what?” I ask.
“I just want to do a checkup.” Mariella shrugs. “She hasn’t had one in a while. It wouldn’t hurt for you to do one too.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “But I’ll bring her on Friday.”
“No need,” Mariella says. “I have the day off, so I can take her to my office and bring her back when we’re done.”
When I glance at Abella, she seems to be fine with that plan, so I let it go. I trust Mariella not to let her overexert herself.
“Alright, I’m off.” Mariella eases the door closed as she backs out of the room. “Abella, let me know if you need anything else in the meantime.”
“I will,” Abella assures her.
After Mariella leaves, we eat our breakfast, and I shoot off a quick text to the head housekeeper, requesting fresh bedding. I help Abella into the shower and wash both of us before I get her changed into a clean set of pajamas.
Once I’ve got her settled back in bed, I throw on a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt, hiding a smirk as she eye-fucks me. I know it’s been too long when she’s this weak and still considering it.
“I need to make a quick phone call,” I tell her.
“Okay.” She sinks into the pillow with a sigh.
“When you’re feeling better, cara.” I level her with a dark look. “I’ll fuck you so thoroughly you’ll never want to leave this bed.”
She bites her lip and nods, watching me as I walk to the window that faces the forest. Andrew’s been rescheduling my meetings for today and tomorrow, but I’ll use the time that Abella’s with Mariella on Friday to handle the most pressing concerns.
When I dial Andrew, he provides a brief report on what needs my attention and what can wait. I haven’t told Abella yet, but she chose well when she hired him. He’s efficient and reliable, and unlike Genevieve, he can actually keep things running smoothly while I’m away.
As I end the call, a flicker of movement in the thicket of trees catches my attention. For a second, I think I must be imagining it, so I open up the balcony door and step outside. Sure enough, he’s there—the black stag staring back at me.
In all my years on the island, I’ve never actually believed in his existence. As boys, we used to tease the girls when they begged us to venture into the woods, searching for the legendary beast. My nonno used to tell us tales about the mysterious creature who roamed the island for far longer than any mortal stag could live. He told us that, according to the local legend, the black stag was known as the guardian of secrets. It was widely believed that the stag would only reveal itself to those who sought the truth, or those about to be ruined by it.
I always thought my nonno was a little bit crazy, and my father denied ever seeing the stag himself. But there’s no denying what I’m looking at now, even if I can’t explain it.
I’ve explored every inch of this island many times over, as have my brothers, and none of us have ever seen him before.
An unsettling feeling burrows beneath my ribcage as I lock eyes with the beast. He turns and raises his head high, muscles rippling beneath his dark coat. With one final glance at me, he stamps the ground and disappears back into the trees from which he came.
“What is it?” Abella calls out.
“Nothing…” I walk back into the room, shaking my head. “It was nothing.”
44
ABELLA
By Friday, I’m feeling much better—at least until it’s time to leave the island with Mariella. I go along with the appointment, even though I know it won’t change anything. In my heart, I already know what I have to do. I just need to find the courage to execute my decision.
We spend the afternoon in the city, starting with a quick physical at Mariella’s office. She explains that she wants to run an extensive panel of bloodwork to check my hormones, including a pregnancy test, as part of the baseline. I agree, but she can feel the shift in me when I hear those two words. She hasn’t said so, but I know she’s still holding out hope.
As for myself, hope abandoned me long ago.
After the labs are drawn, she sends me to an imaging center for an ultrasound, explaining it might be a few days before she gets the results. When it’s all over, she takes me to lunch, and we board the water taxi back to the island.
On our return trip, we sit together and enjoy the last of the afternoon sunshine, each of us lost in our own thoughts. When Mariella finally does speak, it’s impossible to miss the edge of raw emotion in her voice.
“I could talk to Ares.”
When I glance at her, she’s staring out over the water, the barest strain of tension in her features. She’s trying to act like it’s not a big deal, but it is. Ares and Mariella have a complicated history that her brothers don’t know about. He screwed up and lost the best thing he ever could have had. Now he has to live with that regret for the rest of his life.
Mariella isn’t the kind of woman who will let someone play with her feelings. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt her. I’m not certain of everything that happened between her and Ares, but I understand the sacrifice she’d be making. She would set her pain aside to help me because that’s the kind of woman she is.
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I love you. You know that?”
“I love you too.” She forces a smile.
“But Ares isn’t the problem.”
“I know.” She nods, choking back her emotion. “It’s just…you haven't seen the way Angelo looks at you when you're not paying attention, Abella. He’s in love with you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to keep my tears from falling. I told myself I wouldn’t cry anymore. I’ve done enough of that already.
“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change anything,” I say. “I love him more than anything, and I always have. But I can’t give him the future he wants.”
A long stretch of silence passes, and I know Mariella has to feel this suffocating weight hanging over us. I’m drowning in it.
“We shouldn’t even be talking about this right now,” she mutters. “Once I have all your results, we can make a plan. There are always options.”
“Okay,” I concede for her benefit.
She knows as well as I do that those options don’t apply to my circumstances. But despite being raised in this world, Mariella has never really conformed to it.
As the only Vitale daughter, she had no intention of settling for the title of Mafia princess. At thirteen years old, she marched into her father’s office and told him that women could be just as valuable as the men in our world. Silvio had always given her a longer leash than most fathers in the Cosa Nostra, and he told her if she believed it, then she should go ahead and prove it.
She’s been chasing that unattainable bar ever since, overachieving in everything she does. As her contribution to the family, she focused on her education, stomping on the accelerator and never letting up. She took summer classes and heavy course loads, graduating early before entering medical school through a pathway program. After completing her residency at the IVI hospital in Seattle, she went on to open her own practice.
When she isn’t treating her patients from The Society or patching up the Cosa Nostra, she devotes her time to the hobbies she’s mastered. She’s a skilled violinist, well-trained in self-defense, and highly proficient in weapons.
Though her drive initially began as a need to prove herself, I don’t think she found her true purpose until Aegis was formed.
The network developed organically over time. When women in our trusted circle saw or heard of another woman in need, we’d send them to Mariella for discreet help. But as time wore on, we realized the Band-Aids we’d applied weren’t enough for the blood loss.
We had to get the women out permanently, and that required expansion. Mariella spearheaded the entire project, and much like everything else in her life, she exceled at it. With an army of volunteers, she figured out how to weave the network throughout the very fabric of IVI. This meant we were able to move women out of the country and provide the necessary credentials for a fresh start.
