Book under my arm, I set up a small fire just next to the radiators.
One last glance, and I'm out of the room.
Behind me, it's not long until I hear the sound of an explosion, signaling that my plan's been successful.
I sneak out, taking out the clothes Lia had hidden for me in a nook in the convent, and then I manage to get out by showing a fake staff ID.
While everyone is hurrying towards the fire, I'm heading away from it.
One more name.
Soon.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I STARE SOLEMNLY AT the mahogany coffin that's being laid in the ground. It barely has any remains inside since everything had been incinerated at the site of the accident.
The cemetery is empty, and only a few people are around for Chiara's funeral — because I refuse to believe the body in that box is Allegra's.
I simply refuse.
For days now I'd tried to reach Lia to get confirmation that my little tigress is alive, but it's been all for nothing. It's like she disappeared in thin air.
While the silence is nerve-wrecking, it's giving me hope Allegra is alive and she's just biding her time until her last victim has his guard down. Because what better time to strike than when someone is at their lowest.
I look around at the people in attendance — my sister with her husband, and a few of the staff. I hadn't been able to keep this from them when the news had broken out, but I'd been able to at least delay everyone else knowing.
My wife is not dead.
"Enzo," Lina comes to take my hand, looking at me with worry in her eyes.
"I'm fine," I add, my voice a little too brusque. I don't think I can deal with these people offering me their condolences when my little tigress is still alive.
"If you need anything," she continues, but I just shake my head, extricating myself from her hold.
"I just need to find Luca," is all I say, and I move to leave, my eyes meeting Marcello's as he comes to hug Lina. "Take care of her, will you," I address him shortly before heading back home.
Maman Margot is playing with Luca in the living room, and the moment he sees me he runs towards me, hugging my legs.
"Papa," he exclaims, his bright eyes full of blithe energy.
"How's my boy," I ask as I lift him in my arms, kissing the crown of his head.
"Good, maman played with me all morning," he starts telling me about his day, happily chatting away.
Maman is in a corner, looking at me with a strange expression on her face.
Soon, Luca starts yawning and I know it's time for his nap, so I take him to his room to put him to bed. Swinging by my own room, I take off my blazer and undo my tie.
"You're not well, Enzo," maman says when I come down, my fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Jack.
"I'm fine, maman, I told you like I told everyone. I'm just fine." I answer as I plop myself in a chair, removing a cigarette from my pack and lighting it.
"You're not. Anyone can see you're not. Allegra..."
"That wasn't Allegra," I interrupt her rather aggressively. "Allegra's alive and well and she'll come back," I say with all the conviction I can muster.
Because I can't allow myself to think even for one moment that she's gone. Not again. I can't go through that again because this time I fear I might actually do something stupid... And there's still Luca to consider.
No, I simply can't go down that rabbit hole.
"Enzo, you have to face the possibility that maybe..."
I shake my head vigorously.
"She's alive and I know she'll come for me. Whether to kill me or to love me, I don't care. She can shoot me as many times as she likes as long as I have tangible proof she's alive," I mumble, not making much sense. "She's just trying to make me suffer."
"Enzo," maman starts, her tone worried, "you're being delusional," she continues, taking the bottle from me. "This isn't the way to go about things."
"And what am I supposed to do?" I ask, my voice ragged, the words almost broken, "accept that she's gone? Because I can't."
The more I try to force the words out the more my eyes grow wet, the moisture threatening to spill down my cheeks. I wipe it with the back of my hand, taking a deep breath and trying to calm myself.
"She's alive," I say again, trying to convince myself more than anything.
Maman shakes her head, slowly coming towards me.
"Mon cher, I know you love her, but," she wraps her arms around me, giving me a hug.
"No buts maman. I don't think I can continue on if she's really gone. Not again," my voice is muffled as some tears finally make their way down my cheek.
"You have to. For Luca." She threads her fingers through my hair in a gesture of comfort.
"What if I can't?" I whisper, ashamed of myself.
"You're strong, mon cher. Stronger than anyone I know. And I've seen how much you love that boy; too much to leave him helpless in this world."
She's right. I would never rationally leave Luca to fend for himself. But this grief operates on an irrational level, and the only thing I can think of is Allegra.
My little tigress.
"She's alive," I state, this time with no shade of doubt.
"Mon cher," maman makes a tsk sound, disappointed I'm not seeing any reason. "I don't like this. I'm taking my godson with me until you get yourself together. I don't feel comfortable leaving him with you like this..." she sighs deeply. "I know you and soon you'll search for comfort at the bottom of a bottle. Non, this isn't a productive environment for a child."
"Fine, just... give me a day or two," I take a deep breath, recognizing maman is right, even though I don't like the thought of Luca being away.
But right now... I don't want him to see this side of me.
"I'll go grab him." She takes a few steps before turning sharply towards me. "Don't do something stupid, ok?"
I raise my eyes at her and I nod slowly.
Then, alone once more, I do in fact find comfort at the bottom of a bottle.
MY GAZE IS BLURRY AS I open my eyes. But there's no mistaking the determined saunter of the woman in front of me, or the way she's wielding a long pointy knife. She's wearing a pair of dark jeans coupled with a gray woolen sweater — and she looks fucking hot as she sways her hips, her murderous intentions only making her sexier.
"I knew it," the words tumble out of my mouth, the alcoholic haze lifting.
"You son of a bitch," her eyes are blazing with fury as she charges me. I catch her by the arms, holding her in place as we both fall to the ground.
"Bastard," she continues to spew her insults, trying to free her knife hand.
"Little tigress," I can barely speak at the happiness that is bursting from deep within me.
She's alive. I knew she'd come back to me.
"Let go of me you asshole," she struggles in my hold, but I just tighten my arms around her.
"Just one moment. Let me hold you for a moment," I rasp, desperate to feel her warmth, her scent — the proof I so desperately needed to know she's alive.
"Shh," I whisper in her hair, reveling in her presence.
How many years did I dream of just this? Holding her like this?
She's still struggling, and her knife jabs my chest, the pointy tip scratching the surface of the skin. The sudden pain surprises me and she takes advantage to jump out of my arms.
"You fucking bastard. You couldn't keep it in your pants even at my funeral?" She looks at me in disgust and I can't help but frown in confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
"You think I don't remember that blasted perfume?" She shakes her head, taking a step back, "it's been imprinted in my memory since the first time I smelled it on you," her head moves back and forth around the room as if she's looking for something.
"Where is she? Where did you hide her?" She continues, and it takes me a moment to realize she's talking about maman's perfume.
"You're wrong," I start, t
rying to decide how best to explain maman to her.
"I'm wrong?" Her brows arch up, "how am I wrong when it's been the same person from the very beginning?" She pauses, looking at me as if she'd been struck. "Do you love her?" She asks in a small voice, her features drawn in pain. "That's it, isn't it? You've loved her all along."
"No," I answer, struggling to choose my words carefully. "She's a dear friend and nothing more. She's Luca's godmother," I say, and her eyes widen in horror.
"You let that whore near my son?" she screeches, launching herself at me once more, the tip of the knife resting just above my heart.
"She's not a whore," I grit my teeth, knowing that in her volatility she could easily stab me — even accidentally. "She's a friend. An elderly friend." I add, just for good measure, but the suspicion doesn't disappear from her eyes.
"How many times?" She asks brokenly, her voice cracking. "How many times did you betray me?"
The knife keeps digging in my skin and I feel a trickle of blood making its way to the surface.
"None," I raise my head to look her in the eye, hoping she'd see the sincerity in my eyes.
"Don't lie to me!" She cries out, the knife digging deeper and the pain intensifying.
"I'm not," I reply calmly, my hands cupping her face. There's so much hate in her eyes, and all of it is directed at me.
I fucked everything up.
"Kill me if that's what you want, but I swear to you I've never betrayed you in my life." I wrap my hands over hers on the hilt of the knife, helping her drive it forward in my chest.
She shakes her head at me, her cheeks stained with tears.
"Don't lie to me. One thing I asked you — never lie to me," she murmurs, frantic and distraught.
"I'm not. Not this time." I've lied plenty of times to her in the past, and that's why we're here. If I could have been more open to her... more honest... none of this would have happened.
"I don't believe you," she sobs, her hands still on the knife.
I close my eyes briefly, the painful knowledge that I drove her to this point making me hate myself even more.
What have I done to you, little tigress?
"Then do it," I find myself saying, my hands tightening over the dagger. "Kill me. Get your revenge." I tell her as I help her stab me deeper. "Just tell Luca I love him," I whisper my last wish.
I feel the skin breaking under the sharpness of the knife, the physical pain dulled by my own soul's ache.
"And you, little tigress. I'll always love you," I murmur right before I give the hilt a push, gasping at the pain.
But just as the pressure of the knife reaches an unbearable point, it's gone.
Allegra stumbles back, falling on her ass, her eyes wild as she takes in my bleeding chest, and the droplets of blood that now linger on the blade.
"Don't lie to me," she whispers, stunned on the spot, her eyes never leaving my wound.
I don't mind the pain as I move into a seating position. My hand goes to the gaping hole in my chest — deep but not life threatening. My fingers come soaked in blood, and I make quick work of my shirt, taking it off and pressing it over the wound.
"I'd never lie to you. Not about this."
"Lord," she gives a manic laugh, her eyes once again filled with disdain, "it's even worse then. Tell me, where was this love when you were fucking others behind my back? You think I haven't seen all the evidence? Lived it on my own skin?"
"It's not what it seems," I start, trying to defend myself, "and at the party I knew it was you."
She frowns, her pretty brows drawing together in the center.
"What? It can't be." She narrows her eyes at me, vehemently denying the possibility.
"I've known it was you since you visited Luca. I also know you were the one who killed Cristina and Leonardo," I add, and shock envelops her features.
"What... How... You gave no indication..." she utters, confused and rightly so.
"Lia. I convinced her to help me. I knew you craved revenge, and I wanted you to have it. So I did some tweaking behind the scenes."
"You..." I can see the realization dawning upon her. "But why?" she whispers, her features still steeped in consternation.
"Because I love you and I would do anything to see you happy. Including letting you push that knife through my heart — for good this time."
"No, that's not true," she keeps repeating, and I feel compelled to move closer to her.
Dropping the shirt on the floor, I take her hands in mine. The knife falls down with a thud, but I pull her into me before she can grab it again.
"Little tigress, listen to me, please. I'll tell you everything you want to know and after, if you still want my blood, it's yours,"
She doesn't move, her face expressionless as she looks upon me.
This is my cue.
"I..." Fuck, I'm such a wimp. After everything that's happened, she's alive and well and in front of me, but I can't seem to find the words to assure her of my devotion.
Her eyes flicker slightly as she raises an eyebrow, daring me to say my piece and be done with it. It's suddenly so unnerving — knowing that my next words will dictate the future of our relationship.
"I love you," the moment the words are out of my mouth her head tilts to the side in an is that all type of gesture. I don't let it deter me as I continue, finally revealing everything, "I think I fell in love with you after our first interaction. You were so unlike anyone I'd ever met before that I couldn't help but be drawn to you," I take a deep breath, "I didn't know it at the time because I've simply never felt that way before. You got under my skin so bad, and half the time I didn't know whether to strangle you or make love to you," I say and her face morphs into a questioning frown.
Great choice of words, Enzo!
"Then you put yourself in front of that bullet for me, and I rationalized it as a sign that we were perfectly matched." Bringing one hand up, I tuck a strand behind her ear. "You are the epitome of everything I admire — brave, principled, kind and honest. How no one else could see what a treasure you are it's besides me," I stop when I see her narrow her eyes at me and I know compliments won't get me out of this mess — even though they are nothing but the truth.
"What you heard me tell my father about our wedding was simply what he needed to hear at the time. I'd decided that you'd be my wife before I knew it was another famiglia wanting me dead. I purposefully made you miss your wedding so I could have you all to myself."
Although I've never cheated on her, I've certainly manipulated her enough to get what I wanted — her. And I don't know how she's going to react to that aspect.
This time, however, I'm letting her decide everything — including my fate.
"But you couldn't stand the sight of me," she finally speaks, catching my hand with hers and removing it from her face.
"God," I groan out loud, upset at my own stupidity.
I'd been so focused on making her mine that I didn't bother to see how it would affect her. And when she did become mine, I tried to fight my obsession with her because it was driving me absolutely mad. I couldn't even be next to her without imagining thousand ways in which I'd explore her body, the urge to taste her lips too strong. For someone who'd taken pride in his self-restraint, she certainly destroyed any semblance of autonomy I had.
"It's my fault, I admit." I say, squeezing her hand. "I didn't like what you awoke in me. I had this constant urge to be around you — with you, in you... I had no control when it came to you."
"Really?" She asks drily, "is that why you went to your whores? Because I was too much for you?" Her tone is accusatory, but I can detect the pain underneath.
A pain I put there. Fuck!
"Little tigress," I move my bloody hand to her cheek, moving her face right in front of mine, "I swear to you I've never been unfaithful to you. I've never betrayed our wedding vows — in body or in soul. I know it's hard to believe, but..."
"Hard to believe?" She scoffs. "Try impossib
le."
"But it's true." My forehead touching hers, I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and wishing with all my might that I can convince her I'm speaking the truth.
"I know it's my fault for taunting you and never clarifying your assumptions. But at that time I thought it was better to keep you at arms' length. It's the one thing that I regret because it was the start of all your mistrust in me."
"Enzo," she states on a dead tone, "that's a nice speech and all, but do you really expect me to believe that you've never once slept with another woman in these five years. Let's say you lied to me during our marriage and were actually faithful," she stops to roll her eyes, "although that's highly debatable too. But I find it exceedingly hard to believe that a man with your libido would go without sex for so long."
"I went without for twenty-four years, five years is nothing," I mutter low under my breath, not intending for her to hear that. But her sudden intake of breath tells me she did, in fact, hear me.
"What do you mean?" Her words come out on a whimper as her eyes seek mine, looking to confirm the veracity of my claim.
"You're the only woman I've ever touched, Allegra. Ever." I confess. Before her I'd never so much as wanted to be near a woman, the thought of touching one filling me with nausea and disgust.
Not my little tigress. She'd wormed her way into my heart and I couldn't not touch her. It's one of the reasons I'd tried to put some distance between us as I was struggling to come to grips with the fact that I desired a woman — in every sense.
I'd been blown away by my body's reaction to her, but at the same time I'd been scared shitless of the implications.
Her face trembles slightly, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"What... what did you just say?" She asks, her voice unsteady.
She doesn't believe me.
"I've never been with another woman, little tigress. Before, or after you."
I steel myself for her questions, ready to tell her every part of my shameful past and hope she won't look at me differently.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 37