Page 24

TWENTY-FOUR

zina

T he decorations were cleaned away, and the tents were taken down - if I look out into the garden from the balcony off our bedroom - it’s like the wedding never happened.

The only evidence I didn’t imagine it all is the beautiful white gold ring around my finger, a massive diamond ring next to an elegant wedding band.

I play with the rings, moving them around my finger, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

Since the wedding Giovanni has been distant and cold towards me.

I’ve tried over and over again to talk to him, to try to convince him to let in - to tell me what’s bothering him. But his walls are up and so high they are impossible to break through.

Nothing I do is working.

And I’m beginning to think he regrets marrying me.

Tension in the house is horrible high.

Santino has reverted back to how he was before, when he didn’t hide the fact that he hated me. Romeo is the same.

The boys are plotting again. I can see it in the way they look at me. With cold stares and anger so deep it might be deadly.

Would they try to kill me? Their father’s wife? Would they dare to move against me in an attempt to take my life?

Yes .

My heart clenches.

They would.

I bite down hard to fight the panic rising in my chest.

Standing out here on the balcony feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to solve anything. Defiance and anger spill into me.

I lift my face up to the grey clouds and close my eyes. Be strong, Zina. You can get through this. Whatever is wrong, you can fix it.

With a nod, encouraging myself, I walk off the balcony and down stairs to find Giovanni. He has to talk to me. We can’t carry on with closed communications.

As I walk into his office, he stands from his desk, clasping a piece of paper, looking down with the worst frown etched into his forehead.

I hesitate.

“Giovanni can we talk?” I ask, nervous because he already seems furious about something.

His head snaps up towards me and his eyes burning into my soul like ice.

“Yes. We can talk. And you explain what the fuck this is about.”

He walks around the desk and slams the photograph down onto the hard surface. I step closer, my eyes on him, nervous -

Glancing down at the image my stomach knots with frustration.

It’s a picture of me, standing next to Emiliano Maritz. Emiliano has his arm around my back, his hand resting on my waist. The picture looks intimate, like we’ve known each other for years, like we’re close, maybe even close enough to be lovers.

But that picture is one moment taken completely out of context.

“Giovanni - we’ve spoken about this.” I sigh. Pressing my fingers into the picture and pushing it away.

“No. You lied to me about it. That’s what really happened.” His words are dark with accusation. Anger rises in me.

I shake my head, refusing to back down.

“I most certainly did not lie. This photo was taken years ago - and I told you exactly what happened the day I met him.”

“Why don’t you tell me again, because from where I’m standing you two look awfully close. Intimately close.”

I pull my mouth tight and my shoulders tense.

“He came up to me on the streets, outside a coffee shop. I had no idea who he was. He told me he could make my life easier, for my son, and for me.”

“And?” Giovanni steps closer to me, folding his thick arms across his muscular chest.

“And I said no .” I shout in anger. “I told you I turned him down.”

He clenches his jaw, searching my face for the truth. He doesn’t believe that I gave him the truth.

“Why is he holding you?”

“He’s not holding me. ” I huff. “He reached out and touched me. It was uncomfortable, as uncomfortable as it would be if any stranger stepped into your personal space. This photo tells a fake story. It’s one moment frozen in time. As soon as I felt his hand on my waist, I moved away from him.”

Giovanni’s eyes flare in anger and he turns his back on me.

“I trusted you, Zina.”

I laugh bitterly and he turns to glare at me.

“You never trusted me - why did you have someone investigate me if you trusted me. That’s where the photo comes from right? Someone digging into my past - trying to find out all my dirty little secrets - well, what else did you find, Giovanni? Apart from one misleading image from a story I already told you . One I wasn’t hiding in any way whatsoever. What else did you find?”

I’m heated with fierce confrontational anger. He can see the frustration in my eyes. I’m so fucking tired of having to defend myself.

I so fucking angry that I dared to believe I could let those defenses down and actually be happy with him.

Who was I kidding? Thinking I was allowed to be happy?

Giovanni is staring at me in disbelief. The accusation is still dark in his eyes.

“Nothing?” I snap. “You found nothing. Because there isn’t any horrible secret in my past to find. But why don’t you just waste your time and money and keep looking. Let me know when you’re satisfied enough to trust me again.”

I spin on my heels and storm from the office.

At least this answers my questions - this explains why he’s been acting so weird since the wedding. He reverted. He has regrets. He’s questioning his decisions.

And knowing all of that doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact - it tears me apart inside.

My king doesn’t trust me.

Everything I thought we were building is a lie.

How can he love me if he doesn’t trust me? The two go hand in hand.

Needing something to take the edge off my anger I go into the living room, to the bar, and pour myself a straight whisky.

Lifting the glass I throw back the shot and close my eyes, letting it burn slowly down my throat, reading through my chest like fire.

I pour another, this time a double, and carry the glass out to the patio, standing on the top step I let my eyes wander over the garden.

Beautiful and serene it is not aligned with how I feel inside.

There is chaos, burning through me like acid. I want to scream and shout and force him to believe me.

My fingers twitch and my jaw clenches tightly.

I can’t hold it in. I can’t hold this back.

Throwing my arm back, I fling the glass forward, it hurtles through the air into the stone wall on the side of the patio.

Glittering shards of shattered glass explode outwards, raining over the tiles. My heart races, somewhat calmer after the outburst. The sound of glass breaking was a release of whatever was locked inside me.

I let out a sharp breath and walk to the edge of the pool.

Without taking my dress off I step onto the top step, then the next, then the next. Kicking off I drift weightlessly into the water and my dress floats around me like the flowers of a petal.

I close my eyes and blow out all the air in my lungs, letting myself sink beneath the surface of the cool, clear water.

For a moment I’m suspended, away from all the stress and worry and frustration.

But the moment can’t last forever, and when my lungs start screaming for air I stand up, wiping water out of my eyes.

Giovanni is on the balcony of our bedroom staring down at me.

There won’t be a show today, husband.

I glare back at him, angry, heartbroken and refusing to back down.

That night I stand under the hot shower and my heart is aching more than I want to admit. Am I making a mistake by being angry with him? Should I rather approach this with more patience? If I tried again to explain to him or reassure him - I might get through to him.

I wish he believed me.

I wish he could see how deeply I love him.

I climb out and wrap the fluffy towel around my body and another I twirl on top of my head to soak the water from my hair.

Slowly I go through the motions of my night time routine, all the while thinking, trying to figure out what to do.

Brushing my fingertips over my cheeks, I pat soothing serums beneath my eyes and touch moisturizing lip balm to my mouth.

I blow dry my hair and rub Argan oil through its length.

I’m delaying going to bed, because Giovanni is already there - and I’m angry and confused and not wanting to fight again.

With a mischievous smirk I let the towel drop from around my body.

My dark, silky hair flows over my shoulders and down my back as I stand naked, staring at my reflection.

Perfect. I grin.

Walking into the bedroom I act completely casual. It’s the most normal thing for me to walk around my own room naked.

From the corner of my eye I watch him. Giovanni immediately tenses.

His eyes are glued to me as I stand near the closet, pretending to choose something to wear.

“Zina.”

I knew this would get his attention.

I turn slowly, my brows raised. “Yes?”

“I. Uh. I need to know the truth. Can you please tell me what happened with you and Emiliano. Whatever it was - it’s in the past - but I need to know, anyway.” He sounds gentler than before, more able to talk without losing his temper.

I abandon my task of finding something to wear and walk towards the bed. Lifting the covers I slip beneath them and enjoy his discomfort. He’s struggling. I love it when he struggles to control his attraction towards me.

“Gio, I wish you could read my mind.” I shift closer to him. Reaching out I brush my fingers over his face, letting the heat of my touch shiver through him. He growls in frustration. “I wish you could see my thoughts and know that I haven’t lied to you. Nothing happened between Emiliano and me. Nothing.”

Giovanni closes his eyes, his shoulders tense.

When he opens them he grabs my wrist and pushes my hand away from his face.

My expression changes as hurt pulses through me.

“I can see straight through you.” He snaps. “Trying to distract me, trying to seduce me to hide the truth.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” I shout my patience gone, replaced by hurt. “What would the point be? Why would I lie about this? What good would it do me? I’ve spent sixteen years waiting for the day when I can be with you. I’ve turned down countless men, countless opportunities to be loved by someone else - because the only person I could ever love - is you. Why would I risk this for anyone or anything? I did not lie to you. There was nothing between that man and me. And if you don’t wake up see how desperately I am trying to be patient about this - you’re going to wake up and be left with nothing but regret.”

He watches me and there is the smallest flicker of doubt in his eyes.

I shake my head.

“I can’t stay here if you don’t trust me. I won’t live like that. I’d rather be alone than with a man who won’t let me love him.” My voice breaks as tears spill down my cheeks.

But the tears seem to anger him.

He rolls towards me and grabs my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His eyes pierce into mine as he towers over me on the bed.

“Are those real tears, Zina?” he snarls.