The Italian Heartthrob: Forbidden Standalone

by N J Adel

  How could I look into Dad’s eyes again, carrying that secret and not being able to tell him, watching him being deceived every moment of his life with that woman? How could I live with that woman under the same roof again?

  Torn, weak and desperate, I decided to put an end to that burden and that pain I could no longer stand.

  I grabbed a kitchen knife, hid it under my sweater, and waited in my room for everyone to go to sleep. I felt the pain of the steel, felt it stab through my chest, deep, but not deep enough. I should’ve researched this whole thing. I should’ve chosen a better method. My pathetic stab wasn’t strong enough to kill a chicken.

  Blood poured out of my chest, then my strength, and I fell. Lying there on the carpet, I could hear Dad’s cries as he stormed through the door. It was unlocked. Another thing I should’ve thought through. Had it been locked, I could’ve bled out and my miserable life would have ended. Instead, I was forced to live with a nasty scar and a nasty secret…

  Now, I glanced in the rear mirror, asking myself what I’d done so wrong that I had to relive this horror one more time. Was I destined for misery? Was that why I had been born?

  The phone vibrated for the umpteenth time. I got it out to turn it off, but the preview for Mike’s last text caught my attention. Plz come home. Home. What was home? He was. He was everything. Had been. The reason to live and put up with all the shit.

  Now, it was all gone.

  I took a long breath and started the car.

  Scene 74

  Mike

  “I told you to check in with me every hour. Where the hell is she now?” Mike barked on the phone.

  “She’s still at her father’s company, sir,” the driver answered.

  “What? It’s eight p.m. on a Sunday. Are they even still open?” Mike’s heart thrashed. “Go check.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  That fuckin’ idiot. He hung up and tried Andrea’s cell. It led straight to voicemail. “Where the fuck are you, puttana del cazzo? I don’t know what I was thinking that day, trusting you again, hoping for a second there was a shred of humanity inside you. This isn’t over, Andrea. I swear to God I’ll ruin your life like you ruined mine. You think you had your revenge? I’ll show you what revenge is. I’m gonna tell the whole world who you really are and what the fuck you did. This is not over!”

  He called the driver again. “Did you find her?”

  “I’m so sorry, sir. They’re closed. She must have left on foot. Her car is still in the parking lot.”

  “Fuck!”

  Scene 75

  Maggie

  I entered the club, my grip on the backpack strap on my shoulder, ducking so I wouldn’t be recognized. My eyes strained to focus in the dim light as my feet shuffled to the bar. I saw Tony. It was a slow night, and he was leaning on the counter doing nothing.

  “Maggie? To whom do we owe the honor of this visit?” he taunted.

  I collapsed on a stool, my eyes dropping to the counter.

  “Are you all right?”

  I fought back the tears and looked up, shielding myself with the backpack. “Just pour me a drink, Tony, please.”

  “Cosmo?”

  I shook my head. “Vodka on ice, and keep it coming.”

  “That bad?”

  I just fished my vape out and took a drag. Then I, methodically, watched him fix the drink.

  “Do you wanna talk about it?” It sounded more of a request than of a question.

  Everything needed to be said I’d put it in a letter and left it on Dad’s desk myself. He’d get to read it when he returned from Dubai. Security had let me in, everyone had been gone, and I’d finally got a chance to see the new floor.

  I emptied my glass. “It’s a slow night. Why’s it a slow night on a Sunday?”

  He stared at me for a few seconds, and I almost begged him to speak. To say anything to fill the deafening sound of silence.

  “I don’t know. It was pretty busy a couple of hours ago.” He looked at the clock on the brick wall. “If they knew we were expecting a celebrity, they’d have stayed.” He chuckled, and I saw the disappointment in his eyes when I didn’t laugh back. “It’s 10:15 anyway. People have work tomorrow.”

  I nodded at my glass for a refill.

  He opened the bottle, staring at me as he poured my drink. “I’ve never seen you like this. Talk to me.”

  A tear dropped from my eye. I downed my drink and pointed up at the TV. “Can you turn it on? I wanna watch the Oscars.”

  He fiddled with the remote until he found the right channel. “Aren’t you supposed to be there?”

  My eyelids drooped as the vodka and weed seeped through my senses, slowly dulling them. The hosts were presenting Original Song nominees, which meant Actor in a Supporting Role had been announced and Directing was coming two awards later. “Do you know if Cassidy won?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you please check? My phone is dead.”

  He rested his elbows on the counter, checking his cell. “Uh…no. It went to Patrick Hill.”

  Sorry, Jim. “Patrick was good too.” I sighed. “I need another drink.”

  Reluctance crossed his face, and I turned my eyes to the TV. “How about that Cosmo?”

  About half an hour later, the hosts presented the nominated directors. When my name came up, I wished for a moment I’d been there. It’d have been nice to attend the dazzling ceremony. An opportunity rarely given to anyone, and I’d wasted it. Another one to add to a long list of regrets.

  “You must be excited…and nervous. I know I am,” Tony said.

  My stare dropped to his face, and I could tell that he, unlike me, was excited and nervous. I wished I could feel it, too. Any feeling. Anything. It was as if my soul had been replaced by a blank, black slate.

  “And the Academy Award for Achievement in Directing goes to…” Four live images of the nominated directors cascaded on the screen, along with Cassidy sitting next to an empty seat, where I should have been. “Lucindo A. Bravo.”

  “Oh, come on!” Tony booed at the applause coming from the screen. “You should’ve won. Really. The movie was great.”

  My fingers touched the short straw in the frothy pink drink. “You’ve seen it?”

  “Hell yeah. I took some of the guys and went to see it. Bragged about knowing the director…too well.” He snickered, lowering his head to meet my gaze. “I’m really sorry you didn’t win.”

  I savored my favorite drink sip by sip. “I’m not.”

  “What did Gennaro do, Maggie?”

  My eyes flicked at him. “What makes you think he did something?”

  “C’mon. You two are supposed to be there,” he nodded at the TV, “but neither of you are. Instead, you’re here, with this terrible look on your face, which honestly, is scaring the hell out of me.”

  I narrowed my eyes, hearing nothing but the voice of the celebrity on TV. “And the Oscar goes to…Mike Gennaro.”

  He made it. He’s finally made it. And I couldn’t be there to share it with him. I can’t be there to share anything with him anymore.

  I slapped my palm over my eyes as I quivered with tears. Then the world stopped for a second, and I saw nothing but black.

  Something annoying shook me. “Maggie? Maggie? Are you okay?”

  I sniffled, wiping my face. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. Please, talk to me. What’s going on?”

  When Mike was announced the winner, I knew with all my heart I was still in love with him, and no matter what happened, I’d always be in love with him, and no matter what happened, I could never have him again.

  “There’s nothing to talk about anymore.” I drank the last of my cocktail. “This was really good, Tony. Thank you.” My feet edged off the stool and to the floor.

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  I continued to the door. “To my apartment.”

  “Let me walk you.”

  I turned, and he was already b
ehind me. “It’s only a block away. Get back to work.”

  “I don’t think anyone knows you’re here if you’re worried you’d be seen with me.”

  A giggle burst out of my mouth. “Worried? I’m not worried about anything.” I shrugged into my backpack and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Tony. I really am. Forgive me?”

  “That was two years ago. Of course I forgive you.”

  “Thank you. You’ve always had a big heart,” I kissed his cheek. “I’m glad I got to see you again. Goodbye, Tony.”

  Scene 76

  Mike

  “Please, Samantha, just tell me where she went,” Mike begged, squeezing the phone on his ear, pacing the living room.

  “I swear I don’t know where she is. She switched off her phone hours ago, and I haven’t seen her all day. What the hell happened between you two?”

  The doorbell chimed. His strides crunched the distance to the door in a split-second. He jiggled the door handle, and one of the security guards was at the door. “Just please call me if you hear from her.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Gennaro, but there’s a Nick Dawson for you. He says it’s urgent.”

  Mike felt dizzy, knowing what was to come. Maggie must have told him. It was time to face the inevitable. “Let him in.”

  The security guard mumbled in his radio, and the gate opened. Nick jerked the Jaguar into park before the front door and hopped out, holding an envelope. “Where is she?” he exploded, advancing on Mike.

  “Hey! Calm down, sir,” the guard said, standing between the Mike and Nick.

  “It’s okay. Just go,” Mike ordered.

  “If anything happens to her, I will kill you myself,” Nick growled.

  The security guard glanced at Mike. “Sir, are you sure?”

  “Yes!” Mike opened the door wider, waving an arm at Nick to go inside. “Please, just let me explain.”

  “You don’t get to explain anything, you prick. I don’t give a shit about you or that fucking whore I married. Where’s my daughter?!”

  “I don’t know.” Mike’s voice broke as he closed the door. “They last saw her at your office four hours ago. I was hoping you’d tell me where she was.”

  Nick slumped on the nearest chair and began to cry. “No…my baby. She’s suicidal, you fuck.”

  “What?” Mike screamed in shock.

  The envelope in Nick’s hand shook. “She saw that bitch with a prick like you ten years ago and tried to kill herself just to spare me the pain.”

  Mike snatched the letter, his face tingling with horror.

  Daddy,

  I’m sorry.

  You asked me once why I tried to end my life, but I never answered. I know I’m 10 years too late, but I owe you this much.

  I saw Andrea naked with another man. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid to confront her. Afraid of her and her manipulation as I’ve always been. Today, I found out that she’d slept with Mike, too. My fiancé. The love of my life. He was my only chance at happiness, Daddy. Now that it’s ruined forever, I don’t know what to do anymore. Again, I find myself helpless. Broken. Without hope.

  Mike fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

  I just want you to know that I love you, Daddy. And I’m sorry. Sorry for not telling you 10 years ago. Sorry for telling you now. Sometimes ignorance is happiness, but does happiness count if it’s false?

  I don’t know. I’m rambling now. I’m sorry again. I’ll always be.

  Goodbye, Daddy.

  Maggie

  The letters felt like a hundred daggers tearing through his soul non-stop. How could he be so blind?

  “I was supposed to be on a plane, but I forgot some papers and had to go back to the office. I found the letter on my desk. Do you have any idea where she might be?” Nick pleaded.

  Mike jumped, shoving himself back into the here and now. “Did you check her apartment?”

  “I just came from there. She wasn’t there.”

  Mike’s hands flew in the air without aim. “I’ll…call everybody.” He grabbed his car keys. “We should split. I’ll go to the club near her apartment. She likes to go there.” His hand rubbed across his mouth and nose. “I’ll text you her friend’s addresses. They will tell you if she’s with them.”

  Nick nodded as he jogged with Mike to the door.

  If something ever happened to Maggie, Mike would never forgive himself. He had to find her.

  Before it was too late.

  Scene 77

  Maggie

  I sighed in relief as I closed the door behind me. I’d missed my old apartment. The smell. The minimal furniture. The openness.

  Without turning on the lights, I locked the door, walked to the bed and laid my backpack on the floor next to it, the idea of writing a second letter addressed to Mike appealing.

  Don’t waste any more time. Just get it over with.

  Not repeating the same mistake I made ten years ago, I’d bought a Glock. It was terribly easy to buy one online. No hassle. No waiting time.

  I got the paper bag encasing it out of the backpack and placed it in my lap as I sat on the bed. Glancing one last time at the stars through the bay window, I thought about Mike. Our best moments together flashed in my mind: the look in his eyes when he knew I loved him, our first kiss, our first night and the day after, the beautiful love-making session in front of the mirror, the proposal.

  My gaze dipped to the ring. I’d forgotten it was there.

  He should have it back.

  I should’ve written that somewhere, like when he gave me twenty-five percent of the company after the engagement, and I insisted on having a clause that stated he’d get it back upon my demise. I couldn’t let Andrea inherit it. No fucking way.

  I took off the ring, set it on the nightstand and found a piece of paper there. Then I scribbled a note and slipped it under the ring.

  Neither the sound of the paper bag crumbling as I brought out the Glock nor the weight of the cold metal in my hand annoyed me. If I’d felt anything at the moment, it’d have been liberation.

  I walked to the full-length mirror. The silver light from the bay window shone on my reflection, allowing me to watch myself. I inhaled, listening to the sound of the air entering my nose, feeling it in my lungs, and then I exhaled.

  Then I raised the gun to my head, closing my eyes for the last time. “I’m sorry.”

  Scene 78

  Mike

  Mike swore at the traffic lights as he called his manager again, his tear-stained face pale in the rear mirror.

  “I’m checking with all the hospitals and police stations. I’ve found nothing so far, which is good, right?” James replied quickly.

  Mike pressed a hand to his mouth. “Yes, I guess. Just please keep me in the loop.”

  “Sure. We’ll find her, Mike. Don’t worry,” he assured him.

  The lights turned green, and he slammed the gas pedal. As Maggie’s apartment building appeared ahead, he ducked and raised his gaze to a dark bay window. Then he accelerated to the club.

  His eyes darted around the dimmed tables at the club, sweeping the area for her face. There were only four customers inside and two bartenders behind the counter; one was staring at him.

  Mike stalked toward him, recognizing the face as he approached the counter. “You’re Tony, right? Have you seen Maggie?”

  The bartender glared at him. “What did you do to her?”

  Mike clasped his hands and put them in front of his face, closing his eyes. “So you saw her? When did she leave?”

  “About thirty minutes ago.”

  Mike’s breaths became short and fast. “Please. Just please tell me she told you where she went.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Gennaro. Why would I tell you?” He threw a rag over his shoulder. “You’re the reason she was all upset. What the fuck did you do to her?”

  “You…you talked to her? How upset was she when she left?” Terror squeezed Mike’s heart. It must have sho
wn through his eyes because Tony’s expression suddenly softened, showing concern now, not anger.

  “Very.” He leaned forward. “Scary upset.”

  “Oh my God,” Mike whispered. “Please, Tony. Where is she?”

  “She said she was going back to her apartme—”

  “Thank you.” Mike bolted to the door, stumbling on chairs and tables. He ran with all his might to the apartment building, his tears flying in the cold air, scattered words flashing in his brain.

  …a serious trigger …don’t wanna talk about my scar, Mike …you’re even dumber than I thought …my only chance at happiness …broken …without hope.

  He skipped the elevator and raced to the third floor. He threw himself shoulder first against the door with all his strength. Then he stepped back and gave the door one loud kick, knocking it cock-eyed on the floor. “Maggie!”

  She was standing in the dark in front of the mirror, with a gun pointed at her head.

  He didn’t know how he reached her. He didn’t know what he was saying. What she was saying. All he knew was the horror that swept through him when a bang echoed in his ears and her eyes stared vacantly at him.

  Scene 79

  Mike

  Blood.

  All over Mike’s hands. Her blood.

  He squatted by the wall of the nearest area to the OR he was allowed. A number of nurses spilled out from all directions and hurried toward him.

  “Mr. Gennaro, we need to get you examined.”

  “We have a room ready for you, sir.”

  “Are you in any pain?”

  The questions hammered on him, and he wished they would have just been quiet. Why were they concerned with him? He wasn’t the one who got shot. “You should be with Maggie,” he said, his quivering voice hoarse, hushed. “She’s the one who needs your help.”