Under the Sicilian Sky

by Alexia Adams

  In his youth, he would come to this spot every time he was upset and stare out at the Mediterranean, lit now by a moon playing hide-n-seek with the clouds. The sea, his comfort, had become his torment, stealing from him the most precious thing: time.

  “Don’t jump. You know she still loves you. She’s just pissed you were gone so long.”

  He turned to find Cristoforo standing a few feet away.

  “I wasn’t going to jump. What do you want, Cristo? Your turn to try and win my wife is tomorrow. She’s out with her ex-fiancé tonight.”

  “I know. I came to see you. Thought you could use a friend.” Cristo waved a bottle of grappa but didn’t move closer.

  “Are you my friend? What kind of man tries to steal his friend’s wife?”

  “I’m not stealing her. I’m giving her another option. I’ve cared for Bella for years and believe I can make her happy.”

  “At the expense of our friendship?”

  Cristo shrugged. “If I don’t try, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

  They’d been friends since their first day at school and had had each other’s backs for years. In competing for Bella’s love, Cristo had knifed him in the heart with a jagged blade. But Matteo couldn’t blame him. If their situations were reversed, he’d do the same. Didn’t mean he had to like it though.

  He strode toward Cristo, noting how the other man widened his stance as if expecting a fight but didn’t move away.

  “What do you know about my disappearance?” Matteo asked as Cristo handed him the bottle.

  “I was in London when you were first reported missing. Your father called me three days after you disappeared, asking if I’d heard from you. I flew straight here and helped in the search. We scoured the beaches and even went to Malta to see if you’d washed up there. The police chief put your description and details in the national missing persons’ database and alerted Interpol. However, when the other bodies washed up . . . well, it was harder to recruit volunteers to hunt for a man they thought was an assassin.”

  Matteo took another swig of the potent alcohol before passing it back. “Did you think I killed the other men?”

  Cristo cleared his throat. “I didn’t know what to think. I knew you were desperate, wanting to provide the best for Bella after she gave up everything to marry you. On the other hand, you’d spent your whole life avoiding involvement in the mafia. The evidence was pretty damning, so I thought maybe you didn’t want to be found.”

  “And how long did you wait before you made moves on my wife?”

  “I didn’t make any moves. After your father died, I moved back to Sicily to help her out. But by then Bella was pretty independent. I urged her to move on, either divorce you for abandonment or have you declared legally dead. But it’s only in the past six months that she’s been able to even contemplate another man in her life. I was biding my time, waiting for her to be ready.”

  Matteo’s hands fisted. Beating Cristo would probably do more damage than good in his goal to figure out his future. “Tell me about Papa.”

  Cristo passed back the bottle. “Let’s move this discussion someplace more comfortable.”

  They wandered back toward the house, careful to avoid the sheep droppings. “Did Papa give Bella a hard time after I was gone?”

  “No. I think he expected her to pack up and head back to the States. I even heard him suggest it a couple of times, saying he’d call her when you returned. But she refused to go.”

  “I remember, he thought she’d be like my mother—leave as soon as things got tough.”

  “Bella has more strength than that.”

  “I know.” His wife had given up her fiancé, her parents, and her rich life in New York to be with him. Now he could finally give her the world, but she didn’t seem to want it. Instead, she was tied to a land that had been nothing short of a curse his entire existence.

  In many ways, Bella was still the same woman he’d married—warm, caring, ready to laugh. Well, maybe not too much laughter at the moment, but he’d seen genuine amusement on her face when one of the goats had tried to eat a rubber ball. But now she had so many more layers, so much more depth, he was excited to get to know her all over again. The way she’d transformed the farm was nothing short of genius.

  How many times had his father told him that this land was the most he could expect in life? Only when the amnesia freed him from that mentality had Matteo been able to reach his full potential. He wouldn’t allow a sentimental attachment to a patch of dirt reduce him to a simple farmer once again. Yet that was the man Bella had fallen in love with. The turmoil in his stomach returned.

  “Where is Papa buried?”

  “Next to your mother.”

  Matteo’s bitter laugh was swallowed by the humid night air. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” His mother had been killed in a car accident three months after she’d left them, on her way to meet her lover. As the divorce had yet to go through, she’d died a Vanni and been buried with the rest of the family.

  “Bella thought it was poetically ironic—your mother wouldn’t be able to leave your father’s side now.”

  Matteo’s face twisted in a grimace. He hadn’t missed what he couldn’t remember but his father had never recovered. Papa had never trusted love again. And when Bella had entered their lives, his father had been adamant that his son was repeating his own mistake.

  “I need to find out what happened to me. Six years of my life, my marriage, were stolen. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my father.”

  Cristo stopped walking. “Are you sure you want to know? What if you don’t like what you find out?”

  The burn in his chest that had started when Bella had told him the circumstances of his disappearance intensified. “No matter how desperate I was, I can’t believe I’d execute three men in cold blood.”

  His friend nodded but took a swig of grappa before answering. “If Bella doesn’t choose you . . . if she goes back to America with her ex-fiancé or, even better, decides I’m the one she wants, will you be able to walk away?”

  A black haze blurred Matteo’s vision and his fists clenched once more. Could he watch her leave? The irrational pain in his heart said no. He’d come to see if what they’d had was worth saving or if he should just finish it and move on. He still wasn’t certain, but what he did know was that he wasn’t going to give up on their marriage without making every effort. “I’m not sure.”

  “Then be careful what you wish for. Because if it’s proved that you killed those men, Bella won’t stay with you, no matter how much she loves you. Maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “But they’re not lying. They’re up and barking, hounding our heels. You should have seen the reaction to my reappearance when we went to the village yesterday.”

  “And the more you stir things up, the worse it will be. Bella’s built a successful business now and has a good reputation. You’re threatening all that.”

  The urge to hit something, particularly Cristo, was so strong, Matteo had to close his eyes and count to fifty in Arabic. “If I don’t clear my name, this will hang over our heads forever.”

  “And if it destroys everything Bella has created?”

  “I make enough to support her. I’ve amassed a small fortune in the years I’ve been away. Have you heard of Polo Properties and Independent African Artisans?”

  Cristo whistled. “That’s you? Impressive.”

  “So even if these rumors ruin Bella’s ventures—”

  His friend was shaking his head even before Matteo finished his sentence. “You don’t get it.”

  “What?”

  “The woman you knew six years ago, the one who was happy to play housewife and support her husband, is gone. Bella Vanni now is a determined businesswoman. She runs her various enterprises with every ounce of passion she once poured into your marriage. If you dismiss that, ignore her successes, you’ve lost her. Doesn’t matter who she chooses, it won’t be you.”<
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  The moon came out from behind a cloud and illuminated the farmyard. Lights gleamed from the windows of the rental cottage. The wool coats of the ewes Bella had separated from the flock and penned earlier in the day glowed, and the camel protested the noises the goats and rabbits made. Only the bees were quiet. All were evidence of his wife’s hard work and entrepreneurial spirit.

  He’d been raised as a traditional Sicilian male—providing for his wife, protecting her, and being her everything was his mission in life. Now, it seemed that perception needed adjusting as well. “Why are you telling me this? Wouldn’t it be more strategic to keep me in the dark?”

  “One, because I’m your friend. Two, victory is so much sweeter with a level playing field.”

  Before he could wipe the smug smile off his so-called friend’s face with a well-placed fist, Cristo handed him the bottle and said, “You need this more than me. Tell Bella I’ll pick her up tomorrow at five and to wear something super sexy.”

  This time he did swing a punch, but Cristo easily dodged it. “Buona notte, Matteo. If I didn’t say it earlier, welcome home.”

  Cristo climbed into his SUV and, with a salute, left the yard.

  Matteo stood in the doorway to the place that had been home for twenty-six years. Everything and nothing was the same. All the changes, the stress of not knowing where he stood, combined with his recent concussion, gave him a headache to rival the worst migraine he’d ever had. Still, it was nothing compared with the ache in his chest when he contemplated ruining everything Bella had worked so hard to achieve.

  Chapter Seven

  “Dare I kiss you goodnight?” Kai asked as he pulled his rental SUV to a stop in front of the cottage.

  Matteo sat in a folding lawn chair, his head slumped to one side. A bottle of something had fallen from his fingers onto the ground where the last of its contents had rejoined Mother Earth. Was he passed out? Sleeping? Or just pretending so he could watch them?

  If Kai kissed her and Matteo saw, her husband would undoubtedly insist on wiping the taste of the other man from her lips. And that could lead to . . . well, all kinds of delicious complications. She squirmed in her seat as heat flooded her core.

  “Better not. But thanks for an enjoyable evening.”

  Before she could open her door, Kai took her hand in his. “Think about what I said, Bella. We could have a good marriage.”

  “I’ll think about it. See you Monday?”

  His smile transported her back to her twentieth birthday, the day he’d originally proposed. She’d wanted a small, family-only ceremony. Her parents had insisted on a huge, lavish society affair. So before she lost all say in her life, she’d taken the opportunity for a quick trip around Europe while her mother organized the wedding of the century.

  The week before she was due to return to New York, Bella met Matteo, or rather crashed into him. Cut off from her family for ruining their dreams, she’d started a new life with Matteo—a happy one until he’d disappeared.

  Now she stood at another crossroads, this one with four possible directions.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Kai nodded toward Matteo, “Do you need help getting him inside?”

  Her gaze returned to her husband, and her heart flip-flopped. How many evenings had she wakened him to come to bed, exhausted after a nonstop day on the farm? But rather than fall back asleep, he’d loved her until she, too, couldn’t move. “No. If he doesn’t wake up, he can spend the night out here.”

  Kai laughed. “You’re feisty. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you. Didn’t matter how your parents pressured you, once you made a decision, you stuck with it. It’s a quality I want my daughter to have.”

  “Really? You want your daughter to defy you?”

  “Well, maybe not just yet, but when she becomes an adult? I like women who know what they want in life and go for it.”

  Eight years ago she’d known exactly what she wanted. Now, she wasn’t so sure. “What happens when what you want changes?”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “You’ll figure it out, Bella. I have supreme confidence in you.”

  Matteo stirred and sat up in the chair. As he rose unsteadily to his feet, her heart lurched again.

  “Wish I had your optimism. Because my head and my heart are pulling in two different directions this time.” She slipped from the vehicle before Kai could get out. It was probably best to limit interactions between the two men. “See you Monday.”

  After closing the SUV door, she strode over to Matteo. “Are you drunk?”

  He shielded his eyes from the brightness of the headlights as Kai turned around in the driveway. “No. Cristo was here and drank half. But I’ve got a killer headache.”

  She winced. As much as she wanted to believe he hadn’t been involved in the death of the other three men, the fact was that they were gone and Matteo was here.

  “Put your arm around me. I’ll help you to bed.”

  “Your bed?”

  “No.”

  His groan could have been for her reply or the pain in his head. Once inside she flipped on the overhead light. Looking up at Matteo, his pallor alarmed her.

  “I should call Kai back to check you out.”

  Matteo started to shake his head, but clutched it instead. “No, I don’t need a doctor, especially one who’d rather see me dead so he can steal my wife. I just need to sleep.”

  Weren’t you supposed to keep concussion victims conscious? He stumbled and put more of his weight on her. First things first, get him lying down. They managed to make their way to his father’s old room without incident, and Matteo flopped onto the bed, flinging an arm over his eyes with a moan.

  She turned off the light but opened the curtains to let the moonlight flood the room. “Do you have any medicine to take?” She’d run out of Tylenol last week and had forgotten to buy more yesterday when they were in town.

  “In my shaving bag.”

  She found it on top of the dresser and opened the prescription bottle. The instructions were in Arabic so she had no idea of the dosage. “One or two?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Two.” He sounded like he could barely form the word. She ran to the kitchen to get a glass of water so he could take the painkillers.

  She managed to prop him up slightly so he could swallow the pills with a drink. Pushing a strand of hair off his forehead, she found it damp with sweat. A cool sea breeze had blown in earlier, so it wasn’t warm enough for him to be perspiring. First she’d get him comfortable, then she’d call Kai for advice.

  Matteo didn’t move while she pulled off his shoes, but when she put a hand to his belt his eyes opened. One corner of his mouth attempted a smile before sinking back into a grimace. “Are you taking advantage of my weakened state?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to get you comfortable so you can sleep. Does this happen to you often?”

  “Not usually as bad as this. Must be the knock on my head a few days ago.” He lifted his hips as she got his belt free. He wanted to take his pants off? She swallowed. By the time she’d removed all his clothes except his boxer shorts, she was sweating. But it wasn’t from exertion. His body had always been amazing. Seemed he hadn’t lost any of his muscle tone after he left the farm.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said after draping a light sheet over him.

  She called Kai, who offered to come and check on Matteo. But if it was just a migraine, it seemed unnecessary to drag him out of his comfortable hotel. “Probably best not to leave him alone. Check his pulse every few hours, and if it’s exceedingly fast or slow, call me.”

  Grabbing a cool, damp cloth and a bottle of lavender essential oil, she returned to the bedroom. Matteo had kicked off the sheet and lay in all his masculine glory in the moonlight. Her own pulse spiked. God, he was gorgeous. How many nights during their marriage had she woken and just stared at him, wondering how she’d gotten so lucky? It was the best car accident she
’d ever had.

  She ran the cloth over his face and chest, but he didn’t stir. Then she poured a drop of oil on the tips of her fingers and massaged his temples gently. His eyelids fluttered as he attempted to open his eyes. “Shush, mi amore, relax and let me care for you.” She felt as much as heard his sigh of relief. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.

  The room was too small for a chair. There was no help for it; she’d have to sleep on the bed next to him. Not wanting to leave him even for the time it took to change in her room, she slipped off her dress then lay down. The mattress dipped where Matteo lay, and she rolled right into him. His arm came around her and she rested her head on his chest. Well, what better way to monitor his pulse than with her ear to his heart. The sigh of contentment that filled the air this time came from her.

  God, it felt good to be in his arms.

  The tug-of-war within her swung back in favor of her heart. Or was it her body weighing in this time?

  The question neither wanted to answer was, how much would she have to sacrifice to have him back in her life again?

  • • •

  Matteo woke and stared at the white ceiling, the light from the open curtain blinding him until his eyes adjusted. It was just like waking in the hospital in Tunisia. At least he knew who he was this time. The question was where? The bed was lumpy, and from the ceiling measurements, the room was tiny. A woman wearing only a bra and panties lay draped over him, and a dull throbbing scrambled his brain. No aches elsewhere, though, unless he counted a raging hard-on.

  His body was enjoying the soft breast pressed into his side, the silky leg thrown over his thigh, and the dark hair strewn across his chest and down to his belly. He took a deep breath and his nose filled with the scent of lavender and lemon. Bella. Warmth flooded his chest. Had she changed her mind and decided they could sleep together again?

  Before his hand could explore, she stirred then sat up with a huge yawn. Her eyes, when they met his, were full of concern. “Some nurse I am, sleeping on the patient. How are you this morning?”