Page 24

24

ADELINA

A week of absolute bliss passes.

Good food. Good wine. Amazing sex. Raffaele wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to explore everything with me. Maybe it’s the fresh Italian air, or the warmth of the sun, or the fact that we’re on holiday. Something is different, and I like it.

I like it a lot.

The people who run the manor in Raffaele’s absence are just as kind as he is. The head of the house teaches me to cook. I do terribly, but she praises my enthusiasm. We also make wine together, and after the initial gross sensation of crushing grapes between my toes, it becomes incredibly fun. But something sticks out to me more than anything else.

There are children here—two children who are clearly American. When I ask about them, everyone gets quiet and it isn’t until late one night during a cooking lesson that I learn the truth. These children belonged to a family in the States, the Amantes. Their family is dead, and while no one gives me the exact details, it seems Raffaele was involved but not to the degree that I’d expect. Raffaele sent the children here at their mother’s request to keep them safe. She took her own life not long after, and Raffaele made sure the people who drove her to that no longer walk this earth. And now they are being cared for on Raffaele’s dime.

This is yet another tidbit of information that blurs Raffaele’s monster reputation. The children are young but clearly happy, and while my heart goes out to their mother, I’m sure she’d be happy to see them safe and alive.

Raffaele has so many secrets. I haven’t spent much time getting to know him because in the beginning, I didn’t care, but the story regarding the children further fuels my interest in something I overheard a week ago.

A name.

Caught between the glaze of wakefulness and sleep, I heard Raffaele out on the balcony talking to someone. His words were low, and the hum of his voice was soothing me back to sleep just as a name slipped through.

Serena.

Who is she?

Is that something I can ask?

My curiosity bubbles over one afternoon while we’re walking hand in hand along the beach. The sand warms between my toes, the waves roll gently over one another, and a cool breeze keeps the smothering heat of the sun at bay for the moment.

“Raffaele?”

“Hmm?” He glances down at me with a light smile, causing a few strands of his blond hair to drift across his forehead.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Who is Serena?”

His hand tightens briefly in mine. “Where did you hear that name?”

Maybe this is a bad topic. “Last week, I think. I was falling back asleep and you were on the balcony, and it sounded like you said something about someone called Serena? Unless I misheard, in which case, just ignore me.” I attempt to laugh it off, suddenly wary that pressing into this matter might turn Raffaele into some angry, irritated mess. My father is exactly like that when I press into matters that don’t involve me.

“That’s all you heard?” Raffaele asks softly. “Just a name?”

“If it even was a name.” I laugh awkwardly and shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.” Focusing hard on my next few steps in the sand, I dodge around a cluster of shells and turn my attention to the gorgeous white buildings that line the beach in the distance.

“She was my childhood sweetheart,” Raffaele replies after a lengthy silence. “And my wife.”

Sand turns into mud and I stumble in surprise, gaping up at him. “Your wife? You were married before?”

“Is that really a surprise?”

“Well, I mean no. But also kind of?” Stumbling over my words, heat warms my cheeks. I really dove into something incredibly personal, didn’t I? “I just had no idea that there was anyone before me, that’s all.”

“It was a long time ago.” His smile fades slightly, although he briefly maintains eye contact. “We grew up together. My mother was close with her mother, and we were firm friends before anything romantic developed. Puberty hit us both hard, and she was the only person I could stand to be around when life got hard. And life got really hard.”

I don’t speak. Interrupting him seems too rude.

“We married young, and everyone told us it would fail. They were right, in the end. Just not in the correct way.”

“What happened?” I ask softly when Raffaele allows for a longer silence.

“She died when I was twenty-nine. Cancer. Nearly ten years ago now. She was sick for a long time, and nothing I could do helped. I didn’t have the money I have now, so I couldn’t help her with her treatments. I don’t even know if treatment would have helped but in the end, I just had to watch her fade away.”

My chest squeezes like a weight has been placed on it, and my thoughts turn to my mother. While her illness was never diagnosed, the pain of watching a loved one suffer and fade away is painfully familiar.

“I’m so sorry.” My thumb skims over his knuckles. “That must have been so terrible for you.”

“When she died, my world turned black and it stayed that way. Nothing mattered. For years, I didn’t think there was any color left at all and I was happy to just let everything fizzle out until my time came.” He stops walking, gently pulling me to a stop, and our eyes meet. “Until I met you.”

My heart flutters like a caged butterfly and I look away, fighting the rather excitable wave of tension knotting my stomach. “I’m sorry you lost her,” I say. “I can relate a little.”

“With your mother?”

I nod and resume walking with Raffaele at my side. “I was only a child, so I don’t remember a lot. But I remember feeling so frustrated that I couldn’t do anything to help. My father would scold me for looking up remedies online, but my mother, bless her heart, she tried every healing tea I could get my hands on.” A fond smile steals across my lips. “But in the end, there was nothing I could do.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Raffaele says quietly, and he leans closer, brushing his lips against my temple. “It seems we’re cut from a similar cloth with grief.”

“Mmhmm.” I nod slowly. There’s nothing quite like watching your world waste away and being powerless to intervene. “It never gets easier, does it?” I look up at him, his hair gleaming like liquid gold in the sun. “The pain.”

“No. But it becomes easier to deal with. Sometimes when it hits, it’s worse than any blade or bullet. But finding something else to focus on helps.”

I understand it now, I think. Why Raffaele looks at me with such intensity. He’s lived with watching his previous wife fade away and die, so he’s earned an appreciation for moments such as these, no matter how small.

“And I promise you,” he continues softly. “You will never have to witness such a thing ever again. I will take care of you and everyone you remotely care about. No one in your life that you care about will suffer if I can help it.”

“A hard promise,” I say, coming to a halt at the shoreline. Warm water laps at my bare feet and ankles as Raffaele’s arm drapes lightly across my shoulders. My thoughts turn briefly to Marie, and while the pain is still as vibrant as the cut of a razor, I believe Raffaele would have saved her if there were a way.

“A promise I intend to keep,” he replies, gazing out at the ocean. “And maybe one day, you will stop hating me.”

“Never,” I tease softly. “The sex wouldn’t be half as good if I didn’t hate you.”

Raffaele laughs loudly.

Inside, my stomach twists at the noise of his amusement.

I don’t hate him.

Not anymore.

Honestly, I’m not even sure I ever did.

But one thing is becoming abundantly clear throughout this trip.

I have feelings for him.

And I’m scared of how deep they go.