A Passionate Reunion in Fiji

by Michelle Smart

  How could he go on pretending all was well in their marriage knowing another man had kissed those lips, knowing her pretty hands had touched another’s body?

  Was it for her lover that she’d cut her hair and added colour to it?

  Nausea roiled deep in his stomach and he stripped his clothes off and threw them onto the floor, kicking his jeans for good measure.

  Knowing that volatile emotions were usually his wife’s domain only increased his temper.

  Setting the temperature to cold, he stood under the frigid water for as long as he could bear it. It did little to temper the violent emotions churning in him.

  After donning shorts and a T-shirt in his private dressing room—at least he was spared having to dress surrounded by Livia’s clothing—he stepped back into the bedroom and this time was unable to stop his eyes falling to the neatly made bed.

  It was a habit he’d never been able to break her out of. In LA she’d insisted on making it herself even though his housekeeping team would go into their bedroom later on and remake it to hotel standards.

  The tightness in his lungs loosened a little.

  He shouldn’t take his unfathomable jealousy out on Livia. She had done nothing wrong. Their marriage was over.

  But his calm rationale flew out of the window when he went back into the main living area and found her slumped on the sofa, her feet on the coffee table, ankles hooked together, fingers flying on the screen of her phone, concentration etched on her face. An empty glass mug lay on a coaster only inches from her bare feet.

  More contact with her lover? he wondered bleakly.

  She didn’t look at him but a mutinous expression he recognised formed on her face. ‘Are you going to tell me what I’ve done to upset you?’

  ‘You haven’t done anything,’ he answered stiffly.

  She made a pft sound he recognised. It had become a familiar sound in the months leading up to her leaving him.

  ‘I didn’t sleep well,’ he confessed, attempting a less hostile tone.

  ‘You said you’d been fine on the hammock.’

  ‘It wasn’t the hammock. I couldn’t switch my mind off.’ This much was the truth. How could he sleep when his mind tortured him with images of his wife with another man?

  Now her eyes did rise to meet his. He saw suspicion in the dark brown depths. After long moments, she sighed and put her phone down on the coffee table. ‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug.

  Massimo was an insomniac, Livia reminded herself. Switching his mind off enough to sleep was a battle he’d fought his entire life.

  But never, not even when they’d been in the midst of their cold war, had he woken in such an obviously foul temper. She didn’t believe for a minute that it was lack of sleep causing his current mood but experience had taught her the futility of trying to get him to open up.

  Her phone vibrated and bounced on the table. Snatching it up, she read the message that had pinged in and sighed again.

  ‘Problem?’ Massimo asked.

  Even though she could feel the animosity in his politely delivered question and even though his bad mood had perversely put her in a bad mood too, the growing panic in her belly needed an outlet.

  She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and looked back at him. ‘Gianluca.’

  A furrow grooved in his brow. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Don Fortunato’s requested a meeting with him.’ She didn’t need to tell him what that meant. She had spared him nothing about the world she’d grown up in. The meeting could only mean one thing—that Gianluca would be invited to ‘prove’ himself. If he proved himself successfully then he would become one of Don Fortunato’s trusted foot soldiers, a marked step up from his current role as a watcher.

  The groove deepened. ‘Requested? So he hasn’t met with him yet?’

  ‘Not yet, no. He’s been summoned to his home this evening.’ If Gianluca wanted the life Don Fortunato was offering, this would be a summons he’d been hoping for. Their father’s loyalty and death had marked all the Esposito children as foot soldiers of the future. Now it was Gianluca’s turn to prove himself a man.

  ‘What’s he going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to calm her rabid thoughts. Pasquale had been summoned for this same meeting within days of his sixteenth birthday. Livia had lost him that night. Gianluca’s immaturity must have been noted for he’d been given an extra two years before his summons. It felt as if she’d spent these two years doing nothing but beg him to take the lifeline she was offering and escape.

  If he went ahead and met Don Fortunato tonight, there would be no escape. Whatever he was tasked to do would be much more than dipping a toe in their criminal world.

  ‘I’ve offered him money and I’ve already got a room set up for him at my apartment. He wants to leave but he’s scared.’ And she was scared too; far more frightened for her baby brother than she had ever been for herself.

  ‘When did he tell you this?’

  ‘Last night. He called when I was in bed.’

  ‘Last night?’ he clarified. There was an expression on his face, a flickering she couldn’t interpret.

  She nodded heavily. ‘He’s always known this day would come but inside he always thought it would be tomorrow. He’s been happy roving around with his friends on their stupid scooters and chasing girls... How cruel is fate that the day it comes I’m on the other side of the world and unable to help him?’

  All the plans she’d made to help him flee were worthless. She was too far away. Gianluca was technically an adult but emotionally he was still a child. She didn’t know if he had the strength to break away without her own strength to encourage and sustain him.

  She watched Massimo stride to the kitchen area and pull two glass mugs out of the cupboard.

  ‘How did you escape, Livia?’ he asked thoughtfully, placing both mugs in the coffee machine.

  ‘You know how. I took my money and jumped on a train and never looked back.’

  He put a large pod in the machine and pressed the button. ‘You did that without help?’

  ‘You know I did but I wasn’t in his position.’

  ‘Has Gianluca saved any money?’

  ‘No.’ Saving was an alien concept to her brother. ‘I’ve offered to transfer him the money for his ticket out but he’s scared to take it. He knows they’re watching him.’

  Frustration burned deeply enough for her to want to scream. Gianluca looked up to her. If she were in Italy she would be right there, her hand extended, a source of strength and a physical reminder that it was possible to leave and possible to build a good life outside the Secondigliano.

  ‘Are you sure he wants to leave?’

  ‘Yes. The summons has frightened him.’ She managed a twisted smile then twisted her fingers together to stop herself biting the horrible gel stuff off her nails. ‘I think my baby brother has grown up overnight.’

  He stirred their coffees and carried them over, handing one to her.

  Strangely, the hostility that had been shooting off him had gone.

  He sat opposite her. ‘Let me speak to him.’

  ‘You? What for?’

  ‘I can help.’

  ‘How? You’re as far away from him as I am.’

  ‘But I have resources at my disposal that you don’t. Have you heard of Felipe Lorenzi?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘He’s ex-Spanish Special Forces and now runs his own security business protecting high-profile people. He only employs other ex-special forces. They’re the best at what they do and used to dangerous situations. They can get him out safely.’

  She stared at him dumbly. She’d confided in Massimo only because her fears for her brother had grown so large she’d felt as if she would explode if she kept them contained a
minute longer. She hadn’t expected him to offer help. It hadn’t crossed her mind.

  ‘You would do that?’ she whispered. She hardly dared allow hope to fight through the fear. If they could get Gianluca out before his meeting with Don Fortunato, before he was tasked with something that would cross the line for ever and before he was made privy to the secrets that would put a mark on his head, then there was a good chance he would be left in peace.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. ‘Leave it with me. By the time of my grandfather’s party tonight, your brother will be out of the Secondigliano and free.’

  * * *

  Having Livia’s brother to concentrate on and the preparations for the party that evening to oversee helped the day pass quickly. It kept Massimo’s mind occupied. It stopped him having to think of the relief that had almost doubled him over to learn his wife hadn’t been exchanging endearments with a lover.

  She’d been talking to her brother.

  But this only caused a shadow to form on his relief because he knew he had no right feeling relief. He had no business feeling what he’d felt.

  Knowing how he should feel and behave did nothing to stop the twisting ache that had burrowed in his guts and set up home in his short time on the island. He had to get a grip on it. One day in the future Livia would find a new lover who could give her the happiness she deserved, a man who could give her the attention and time she needed.

  He couldn’t imagine meeting anyone for himself. A casual lover, possibly, if his body ever became receptive to a woman who wasn’t his wife. He would certainly never marry again. Or have children. Before he’d met Livia he’d never even thought of having children. The subject had completely passed by his radar.

  Her pointed remark that theirs had been no marriage to bring a child into had hit a nerve with its truth. He would be as lousy a father as he’d been a husband.

  Before he could switch his mind away from his latest bout of acidic ruminations and call his PA for a business update, he spotted two figures approaching in the distance. Livia was returning from her walk with his grandfather. They’d gone for an exploration of the island that had been his grandfather’s home together. She was the only member of the family Massimo felt comfortable for his grandfather to spend time alone with. If there was an emergency she would know exactly what to do.

  Whatever his conflicting feelings towards his estranged wife, he would never deny that she was an exceptional nurse who’d cared for his grandfather with a devotion that had allowed the entire family to sleep at night. Her return to nursing would be other cancer sufferers’ gain.

  He failed to stop his heart blooming as she neared him. His blood stirred too, thickening the closer she came. She’d removed her T-shirt and tied it around her waist, exposing her bikini-clad breasts, which swayed gently as she walked towards him pushing the wheelchair. Her hair, normally worn loose, had been pulled into a high ponytail, no doubt to counter the heat coming from the blazing sun. Her golden skin had darkened in their short time on the island and it suited her beautifully.

  His grandfather had fallen asleep. She adjusted the parasol above him then gave Massimo a cautious smile. ‘Any news?’

  He looked at his watch. ‘One hour.’

  Felipe’s wife, Francesca, was about to go into labour with their second child so his right-hand man, Seb, was coordinating events. Seb had been confident they could get Gianluca out without anyone noticing their presence. But this depended on Gianluca following the plan and being in the right place at the right time without changing his mind.

  If Gianluca had half the strength of mind his sister had, then everything would go well.

  If was a big word and Massimo had his doubts. He hoped for Livia’s sake that Gianluca went through with it. He didn’t like to think of her devastation if the opposite happened.

  She would cope though. That was one thing he didn’t doubt. Livia was a tough cookie. The life she’d lived, the life they were now trying to remove her brother from, had made her that way.

  This was the first time since he’d met her, though, that the reality of her childhood had seeped into their life together. Her childhood had always been stories narrated from the safety and comfort of their bed, fables completely removed from his own existence. He’d appreciated intellectually what an awful life it had been for her but this was the first time he’d really felt it. It was as if her fear had transplanted like ice in his heart.

  ‘As soon as I have word, I will let you know,’ he promised. Gianluca had been instructed to turn his phone off in case it had a tracker in it. Massimo had already organised a replacement one for him.

  ‘Thank you.’ Her lips pulled together before her chest and shoulders rose then fell sharply. ‘Whatever happens...thank you.’

  His own chest inflated at this simple, sincere gratitude. He hadn’t offered assistance out of any form of altruism. Livia had needed help and he’d been in a position to provide it...

  He’d never seen fear on her face before. He defied any man in his position not to offer their help too.

  It struck him then that in the whole of their marriage she had never asked for or needed his help for anything of importance. Not once. All she’d ever wanted from him was the one thing he’d been unable to give. His time.

  Her shoulders rose again. ‘I’m going to find one of Jimmy’s carers and get them to put him to bed, then I’ll be back out to help...if you want it?’

  As she spoke, a golf buggy delivering the first batch of workers for the evening’s party emerged from the thick forest. There was much to oversee to ensure the event went perfectly. His family had offered help earlier but he’d refused, told them to enjoy their last full day on the island. This was something he’d wanted to do himself. His last gift to his grandfather.

  About to give the same refusal to Livia, he found his tongue forming words of its own accord. ‘If you haven’t anything better to do.’

  Her smile this time was wide. ‘Only sunbathing, which bores me.’

  She wheeled his grandfather away.

  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, telling himself he’d accepted her offer so as to give her something to distract herself with while they waited for news on her brother.

  The acid burning in his guts exposed that for the lie it was.

  * * *

  Livia, her head upside down, dried her hair on a low setting and tried to pretend she wasn’t keeping an ear out for Massimo. He’d sent her back to their chalet over an hour ago saying he’d join her shortly. The party was due to start in thirty minutes and he still needed to shower and dress. This was cutting it fine even for the man who could get himself ready in ten minutes flat.

  Together, they’d supervised the arrival of the vast volume of staff employed for the evening, the exquisite finger buffet the army of chefs had spent the day preparing, the decoration of the interior and exterior of the lodge, the quantities and varieties of drink, made sure the extra chalets some of the guests were staying in for the night were ready, and fielded a constant flow of calls.

  During all this, Massimo had kept her updated on Gianluca. As of three hours ago her brother was in a hotel two hundred miles from Naples. Tomorrow he’d be moved from the hotel to her rented apartment.

  Knowing her brother was safe and had turned his back on the life she too had fought so hard to escape from had left her dizzy with relief. Every part of her felt the relief, her lungs looser, her limbs stronger, her shoulders lighter. She could hardly wait to get back to Rome and smother him.

  Massimo’s help in extracting Gianluca...

  She’d learned at much too young an age that to get through life she could only rely on herself. Self-reliance had been so inured in her that it had never occurred to her to ask for help. She’d always managed alone.

  It was the first time anyone had ever removed a burden from her shoulder
s and her heart swelled in gratitude for it.

  Maybe Gianluca would have found the nerve to leave on his own that day with nothing but a transfer of money from her and the promise of her apartment but there was no doubt that Massimo taking control of the situation had given Gianluca the final injection of courage he needed. He’d been the one to talk Gianluca round.

  When Gianluca had called her from the hotel, he’d been relieved to be out but torn at all he was leaving behind. She understood those feelings. They were the same emotions she’d lived through. As dangerous an environment as the Secondigliano was, it was where their family and friends were. It was their home. Starting over was never easy.

  Leaving Massimo had been harder than leaving her family. She’d never felt an atom of relief at leaving him, only overwhelming pain. The future without him had never appeared bright, only bleak.

  There had been times that day when she’d found herself staring at him with a heart so full she’d felt the individual heavy beats vibrating through her body.

  There had been times, too, when she’d had to turn her face away from him and blink back hot tears at all they had lost. Today, working together harmoniously, supporting each other, teasing each other, laughing...it was like being thrown back to the early days of their marriage.

  Why had they thrown it away?

  When she’d finished drying her hair, she heard yet another small plane flying low over the cabin. More guests arriving. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on your perspective of paradise being spoilt by a mile-long runway—the island only had the capacity to admit small aircraft, so half the guests were being flown in as the staff had been: tag-team-style. The remaining guests were sailing to the island on Massimo’s yacht.

  She’d just finished applying her lipstick when the bedroom door opened and Massimo’s reflection appeared in the mirror.

  She stared at him, her chest filling so hard and so quickly that it pushed the air from her lungs.

  She cleared her throat and turned around to face him properly, trying desperately hard to mask the turbulence raging beneath her skin. ‘I was about to send a search party out for you.’