by A. Zavarelli
I will help you, I write reluctantly. But you have to do the work.
He nods, and I’m hoping that concludes our meeting so I can slip away into the privacy of my room and cloak myself in the safety of my bed. But Alessio is nothing if not an efficient man. He got the thing he wanted out of the way first, so he could tackle the thing he knows I will resist.
“Why are you wearing this?” His fingers reach up to tug slightly on the tail of my wet neck scarf.
Instinct drives me to stop him. I’m not thinking clearly when I slap my hand over his and freeze.
His eyes lock with mine, and the intensity of that connection makes me sway slightly.
“Show me,” he says gruffly. “I want to see what you’re hiding there.”
I shake my head, pleading silently, and I’m relieved to find he doesn’t push me like I thought he might.
“One day, you will show me.” His eyes move to the arm that’s still holding his hand hostage. “And then you will tell me the truth about these scars.”
10
Natalia
“Good morning, Nino.” Alessio rises from his chair to greet us as we enter the dining room. It’s bizarre and unlike him, and I’m tempted to glance at the clock to see if I somehow misread the time.
Nino peeks up at him, looking as confused as I feel. “Good morning.”
The awkwardness persists for the next thirty seconds, and when I meet Alessio’s gaze, I finally realize what’s happening. This is his attempt at normal human interaction.
Should we all have a seat? I suggest, noting Alessio is clearly out of his element here.
He nods, pulling a chair out for me, and then repeats the process for Nino. I shoot him a look when he sits down, hoping he can pick up on my silent message to relax. It doesn’t need to be so stilted.
Nino, what would you like today? I sign my question and hand him his plate.
“I can do that.” Alessio stands up again, and I try to stifle my smile.
“It’s okay,” Nino disregards his attempt. “I can do it.”
I look at Alessio again, offering him a reassuring nod, but it doesn’t seem to calm his nerves.
Nino carefully goes about selecting his breakfast, freezing when a piece of melon slips off the spoon and onto the table. His eyes dart to Alessio, and it’s clear he needs reassurance that this is okay, but Alessio somehow misses the cue. I nudge his foot beneath the table with mine, and he gives me an odd expression before the realization occurs.
“Don’t worry about it, Nino,” he responds stiffly. “It’s alright.”
Nino returns his focus to his task, and once he’s seated, Alessio and I dish up our plates. Angelina enters a few minutes into our breakfast, refilling Alessio’s coffee cup without even glancing at mine. I’m used to it by now, and honestly, I prefer she ignores me because I don’t want her waiting on me. Alessio, however, seems to be more attuned to the situation today, and it catches us all by surprise when he calls her name, and she freezes.
She turns back slowly, peering down at Alessio from beneath her long, beautiful lashes. “Yes, Mr. Scarcello?”
“You forgot Natalia’s cup.” He nods to my coffee.
Angelina’s lips purse and she dips her head. “So sorry about that. I don’t know how that happened.”
She returns with a tension in her body that wasn’t there before, and I’m internally cringing as she refills my cup. I have a feeling she’s going to try to pay me back for this later.
When she leaves, Alessio’s gaze lingers on mine for much longer than necessary, but neither of us seems eager to break it. I offer him a shaky smile and then turn to Nino, severing the strange connection.
I sign a few questions to Nino, spelling out the words he doesn’t yet understand. He answers with his own mixture of spelling variations and words and then beams at my response. When I return to my breakfast, I’m confused by the irritation on Alessio’s face.
“Do you not think it rude to have private conversations at the dining table?” he snaps.
I raise my brows at him and then type out a message, holding it up for him to see.
BE NICE.
His lip twitches, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think it amuses him when I talk to him this way. I doubt anyone else in his life does. When he doesn’t respond, I take it upon myself to inform him of the discussion I just had with Nino.
I asked him what he’d like to do with you today.
Alessio’s brows pinch together. “Today?”
Yes. And he said he would like to go out on the boat.
I leave out the part that I suggested it. Ultimately, this situation will be beneficial for both of us. Alessio can spend time with Nino like he wants, and I can learn how the boat operates.
Alessio glances at Nino, and I’m not entirely sure what he’s thinking. For all I know, he could have plans today. After a few moments, I can see he’s decided.
“I suppose we could go out on the boat.”
Nino’s face brightens as he looks at Alessio, and something softens in his expression. That softness tugs at a place deep in my chest, and I try to ignore the feeling that I’m doing something wrong. That I’m somehow misguided or cruel for manipulating Alessio this way. I can’t allow myself to care about his feelings. That’s the only way I’m going to survive.
We finish our breakfast quietly, and Alessio tells us he’s going to prepare the boat. His instructions are to meet him downstairs once Nino is dressed for the water. It’s cooler outside today, and that will require a jacket, particularly with the breeze.
I try to hide my disappointment that I won’t be able to witness the preparations he’s doing. I’ve taken up studying watercraft operation in my spare time, but it won’t be of any use if I don’t know where he stores the keys to the boat house. I have a sinking feeling I’m not going to find out today.
Once I have Nino dressed in warmer clothes, I retreat to my closet to do the same. I don’t have many options for boating, so I decide on a pair of jeans, a knitted sweater, and a light jacket.
Nino takes my hand as we walk outside across the lawn to the dock, where Alessio has the boat ready and waiting. From peeking into the window of the boathouse, I’ve determined he owns a sports cruiser, specifically a Sea Ray Sundancer. It’s built for comfort and fun, but I’m certain it will get me where I need to go when the time comes.
Alessio pauses when he sees us, his gaze traveling slowly over my body. By the way his nostrils flare and heat pools in the depths of his eyes, I’m getting the sense he prefers me in jeans over the loose skirt suits that hide my curves.
Nino tugs my hand to pull me forward, distracting me from the moment. Alessio glances down at him, clearly surprised by his eagerness. Then he does something so uncharacteristic it surprises all of us. He reaches down and ruffles the hair atop Nino’s head, his face relaxing into the first sign of a natural smile I’ve witnessed from him.
“Come on, little rascal.” He lifts Nino, carries him on board, and then reaches out his hand to help me across the gap.
I stare at his extended fingers for a long moment, my nerves making me pause. It’s just a hand, and it’s a silly reaction, but I know what that hand is probably capable of. That hand has undoubtedly taken life. That hand is probably well versed in torture, yet when I look at this man, the fear that he first inspired is already beginning to subside. I think, more than anything, that’s the thing that scares me.
His eyes implore me to act, and I do, slowly reaching toward him and allowing his massive fingers to engulf mine. The connection sends a tiny shockwave up my arm, and straight to my head, where my pulse is pounding so hard, I can hear it. I wonder if Alessio feels it too. When I look into his eyes, and see the confusion there, I think he does.
Neither of us wants this, but there seems to be some greater force pulling us together. Alessio sets Nino down but doesn’t take his eyes off me. Unlike a moment ago, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s skilled at hiding h
is emotions, but he can’t hide the hunger radiating from him.
I swallow and turn my attention to Nino, fussing over his jacket even though I already made sure it was fastened.
“I’m going to start the engine,” Alessio tells us. “Nino, would you like to help?”
His eyes sparkle with excitement as he nods. “Yes!”
In another surprising turn of events, Alessio rests his hand on Nino’s shoulder as he leads him away. I focus on that connection with a bittersweet warmth in my chest. Perhaps I was wrong before. Alessio might be better at this than I gave him credit for.
I follow them into the cockpit, watching closely as Alessio points out some of the features on the console to Nino, including the start button. I’m taking mental notes throughout the entire process as they start the engine together, and Alessio smoothly navigates us out onto the water.
“You can help me steer when we’re out in the open,” Alessio tells Nino.
“Okay.” Nino sits up straighter, peeking out over the console as if this is the most important job he’ll ever have.
The boat picks up speed, and Alessio handles it with precision, guiding us across the lake toward the unknown. The wind cools my cheeks and slowly unravels my hair from its usual bun, pulling pieces out until eventually, it collapses at the nape of my neck. I didn’t think to bring a hair tie, so I remove the pins and secure them in my pocket, brushing through the ends of my hair with my fingers to smooth the mess. By the time I’m finished, the tips of my hair fall across my lower back, displaying the length I’ve been growing for years.
Alessio glances back at me briefly and then freezes, his jaw flexing as he takes me in. I fold my arms across my chest as if I’m cold, but really, I’m feeling exposed. For so long, I’ve tried to blend in and go unnoticed. I’ve hidden my femininity as well as I could, determined to keep men away. Right now, I can’t hide it, and the longer he looks at me, the more I realize maybe I don’t want to.
“Can I drive now?” Nino interrupts the moment, and I’m glad for it.
Alessio nods, his jaw still tight as he slows the speed to a crawl and then pulls Nino onto his lap. I watch the two of them together as Alessio provides instruction, and something in my heart thaws a little. Or a lot. Too much, I think.
God, I don’t know what I’m doing, or how to make this stop. This game feels more dangerous with every second that passes, and I’m losing sight of how to protect myself.
I remove my phone from my pocket and type out a quick question, tapping Alessio on the shoulder to show him.
Is it okay if I relax down below?
Alessio turns, nodding stiffly. “If you wish.”
I smile at Nino, and he smiles back, and I think this is the right thing to do. Alessio can spend some time with him, and I can get some much-needed distance.
I head for the small door and ease down the narrow stairs to find a cozy salon area. The space is well outfitted with a kitchenette and lounge. Further back, it opens to a stateroom, with a bed and additional loungers. I unzip my jacket and drape it over the lounge before I start my exploration. In my head, I’m reminding myself to look for anything useful, but as my fingers trail over the furniture, my eyes keep drifting back to the bed.
I can’t help wondering who else he’s brought on this boat. It’s a disturbing thought to consider that he’s used that space before. That he’s had the warmth of a woman next to him right there. I don’t want to imagine it, but my consciousness supplies the details regardless. She would be beautiful, of course, and much taller than me. She’s probably someone completely at ease in her skin. She wouldn’t have a second thought about climbing atop him naked and displaying her body for his pleasure.
A sickening feeling twists my gut at the prospect, and I try to erase it from my mind. I can’t think about Alessio’s conquests or the bitter resentment I feel over them when I’m not entitled to it. Forcing it from my mind, I collapse into one of the loungers and pull a book from the side pocket. When I see the title, I can’t help but wonder at the irony. The Count of Monte Cristo. It’s been a long time since I read it, but I can remember the revenge theme clearly. If I needed a sign that I’m losing sight of my goal, this is it.
I thumb through the book I’ve read before, landing on a random chapter as my eyes start to skim over the words. One sentence becomes two, and soon, I’m completely engrossed all over again. I don’t know how long has passed before the sound of Alessio’s voice startles me.
“Natalia?”
I blink up at him. He’s lingering on the stairs as he studies me with concern. Nino is behind him, watching me with rosy cheeks from the wind.
“I called out for you several times,” Alessio says.
I shake my head apologetically, closing the book and setting it on the table. His eyes move over it in question before returning to my face.
“It’s time for lunch,” he tells me.
My stomach rumbles in response, and I rise to my feet, resolved to rejoin them. Alessio watches me as I slip my jacket back on and then holds his hand out again to help me up the stairs. It isn’t necessary, but I take it anyway, quietly choking down my tangled emotions when he squeezes my fingers in his.
Upstairs, Alessio leads us toward the stern, where there’s a small dining nook and a grill I didn’t notice before. It appears he’s already started preparations, with a cooler of supplies Angelina must have prepared. I didn’t even realize we’d stopped moving, but when I take in the scenery around us, I see why he chose this spot. It’s quiet and peaceful.
Can I help? I write.
“I think I can manage,” he answers. “You can keep Nino entertained.”
I nod and take a seat with Nino at the table.
Are you having fun? I ask.
He nods, a dimple appearing on his left cheek. “I wish we could do this every day.”
I try to squash down another surge of guilt as he peeks up at Alessio with clear affection in his eyes. Nino knows Alessio isn’t his father, and I was unsure of their dynamic after observing conflicting patterns. On some level, Alessio obviously cares for him, and I can see now that affection is returned.
How long have you been with Alessio? I sign the question using a combination of the words he knows while spelling the rest slowly.
Nino glances at Alessio, and I can tell he’s uncertain about answering while he’s near him, but he responds by shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
Since you were a baby?
His brows pinch together, and he nods. “I think so.”
I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, so I ask him if he wants to play a game or draw. I brought a few things for him just in case, and he seems to prefer quiet activities.
“I’ll color,” he says, signing the word even as he says it.
I smile at him in approval and retrieve the bag I stowed once we boarded. Nino digs around inside, pulling out a coloring book and crayons while the scent of Alessio’s cooking drifts toward us. It all feels so … domestic. We’re out on the open water, enjoying the beautiful day, while Alessio grills like a normal father might. The fresh air and cool water bring me back to my childhood when my father grilled at the lake. I can remember swimming and playing for hours and being so ravenous afterward I’d eat like it was my last meal, only so I could go and do it all over again the next day. Those memories were some of the best times in my life, and I can’t help looking at Nino, wondering what his will be.
Right now, he’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. He seems content. Carefree. I can only hope that he holds onto that feeling. That as he grows older, his good memories will outweigh the bad. That he will have a life he loves. It’s what every child deserves.
Alessio delivers a plate of grilled chicken to the table and then returns with the cooler, laying out a spread of fresh fruit, cheese, and bite-sized vegetables. He takes a seat across from me, and our eyes meet again as he seems to search for something in mine.
“Hungry?” he asks.
/>
Heat flushes my face, and I find myself nodding too enthusiastically. His eyes flare, and he shoves a plate at me before offering one to Nino. We dish up and eat our meal quietly while Nino pauses between bites to work on his picture. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, warming my face, but I know it isn’t just that. There’s something about this moment. It feels like a trap, a possibility that could never be. It would be so tempting to imagine for even a second that I could have this. That somehow, this could be my life. Just the three of us. I try to erase it and forget I even considered it.
That was delicious, I write. Thank you. I’ll help you clean up.
Alessio nods and glances at his watch. We work side by side, him cleaning the grill while I put away the food in the cooler and wash the plates and silverware in the small sink. I catch him staring at my hands a few times, and I know his mind is turning, the fervent curiosity about my scars burning stronger than ever. I need a distraction, and I find it when Nino starts to yawn, no longer interested in his coloring.
He might need a nap. It’s been a busy day.
Alessio follows my gaze to Nino and nods. “I’ll take him downstairs.”
I concede although I was hoping to do it. If I’m not downstairs with Nino, that means I’ll be up here with Alessio. Alone.
I watch them disappear below deck and then resume cleaning to give my hands something to do. I wipe the table and seats down and then clean the sink. When there’s nothing left, I wander up to the console, studying it with interest as I try to memorize all the details.
I don’t hear Alessio approach me, but I can feel him behind me. His dark energy is a force of nature, and I would be a fool not to sense him. He feels close, so close I could lean back and press his body against mine. I try not to do that. I try not to even breathe, but then he leans into me, inhaling my hair. It’s the subtlest of movements, but it penetrates me deep in my core. It sends sparks shooting through my veins, and it only intensifies when he glides a strand of my hair through his fingers and his breath fans across my ear.