Page 3

THREE

giovanni

R ain beats heavily from the sky and I’m grateful that it’s hushing her words and only my sons, standing right here, are able to hear what she’s saying.

I can’t have the guests, the rest of the family, hearing any of this.

That is a scandal I don’t need.

Not now.

What the fuck is she doing this to me?

Zina looks beautiful, even soaked, with her long dark hair falling in streams over her shoulders, her eyelashes glittering as rain drops drip from them - she looks as beautiful as the first day I saw her.

A day that changed my life in ways I’ve spent sixteen years trying to deny.

I’ve always loved my Bella, and I never wanted to hurt her. But when I met Zina, something inside me snapped. It’s like the universe was taunting me with the woman I was supposed to have married - the woman who is more perfect for me that anyone else could ever have been. She was wild and energetic. Full of life. Daring and fun. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

But I couldn’t keep her.

I couldn’t have her.

It would have torn Bella apart if she found out what I’d done, and my duty was to my son’s, my wife - as the leader of this family. I had no choice but to turn my back on her.

Rain splashes over Zina’s lips and I stare at them, remembering the past, and the way she’d once molded her body against mine.

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out an agitated breath.

Behind me, my sons are arguing. They’re fighting over whether or not it could be true. But all three of them are adamant I would never have done that to their mother.

My heart is weighing heavily with guilt. I don’t want them to think of me as a man who would have hurt their mother in that way.

“He’s not my son. It’s not true. And you need to leave before I have you dragged away by my security.” I snarl.

Santino steps close, ready to drag her away himself.

I let go of her and step away. She is not my responsibility.

She is.

And so is her son.

My son.

No. She can’t just walk back into my life like this.

“He’s yours , Giovanni.” She says with strength and determination.

I press my lips tightly together and turn towards my oldest son.

“Get them to take her away. I don’t want to see her again - ever.”

He grabs her arm, ready to do as I asked, but she shouts.

“I have proof.”

My heart stops. Every cell in my body freezes in panic.

“Bullshit.” Santino snaps, pulling at her again.

“Wait.” I say with heavy reluctance. If she has proof - I need to see it. I can’t have her going to the media or spreading this information around behind my back. If there is proof, I need to get it under my control before things get out of hand.

“Dad, she’s lying.” Santino says with desperation. He doesn’t want to believe it.

“Son, you can go inside.”

“No.” He shouts angrily. He drops his hand away from her arm and glares at me.

I turn towards Zina.

“Show me.” I say tightly.

She sticks her hand into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She’s shaking as she scrolls through images until she finds the right one and holds the screen towards me.

I take the device from her and stare at the print out on her screen.

It’s a screenshot from a website. A website where people trace their DNA. Romeo had sent in an application years ago for a school project when he had to trace his DNA to find out his heritage. He was about ten at the time.

I remember how upset he was to find out, even though he was through and through Italian - on his mother side there were traces of gypsy. Three percent, to be exact. The smallest, most insignificant amount - but at his young age, this seemed like a world ending disaster. He thought we would disown him, and it took hours to convince him we wouldn’t.

He refused to hand in the school project and got a zero for it. But the zero was safer than having anyone else find out the horrific truth.

Bella and I had stayed up late that night giggling about it over a bottle of wine.

Poor Romeo.

I’m looking at Romeo’s DNA report - and she’s matched it up to Guido .

They are half-brothers.

For the longest time, I can’t look away.

Words won’t even form in my mind.

They are related. He is my son.

I hand her phone back to her.

Santino is staring at me, his eyes darting between me and Zina. “What is it?” he says.

I nod.

“No.” He says.

“Santino, go inside.”

“What did you do?” He shouts at me.

“Dad?” Romeo asks, from behind me.

“Santino, go inside and take your brothers with you.” I demand.

Santino’s eyes are flooded with betrayal. He’s never looked at me that way before and it breaks my heart to see it now. He’ll need time to process this, and he’ll have to learn to forgive me. He’s a man now. Maybe he’ll even understand once the initial shock wears off.

Without another word he pushes both of his brothers back towards the church. They follow, glancing back over their shoulders, not fully understanding what just happened, or perhaps not wanting to.

The rain is still heavy around us, but I hardly notice the weight of my clothes, soaked and clinging to me. When I down at Zina she’s biting her lower lip.

Guido stands behind her and my eyes drift towards him. He looks just like me. Even at his young age, sixteen , his jaw is strong and square, his hair is dark, and his shoulders are broad.

But he has his mother’s dark brown eyes. Warm and gentle. Although angry as he stares at me now.

“What do you want form me, Zina?” I ask in quiet acceptance of the truth.

“I want what you owe me and our son.” She says, not harsh, not a demand, but perhaps a plea.

“What is it that you think I owe you and the boy?”

“A father—” She stammers in disbelief. “Doesn’t he deserve that?”

“Zina, you’re insane. How do you think that would ever be possible? I don’t even know you anymore. I don’t know him.” I throw my hands in the air in frustration.

“You have to get to know him. He’s your blood. No less than Santino, or Romeo, or Dante. He is your son.”

My heart aches as her words settle into me. No less than Santino…

It’s true. He’s mine. But we are years apart. And I can barely get my thoughts into a single, coherent line to understand what is happening.

Bella, my beautiful wife is gone. My heart aches for her.

And Zina - my lost love - is suddenly back and threatening my peace and stability.

“I need to think.” I say sternly.

“No, you need to what’s right.” She snaps, glaring at me, her brown eyes glittering as though flaked with gold.

“Zina, I need time - “ I say with more force.

She shakes her head. “You’re a better man than this.” She mutters. “I expected more from you.”

Always defiant. Still defiant. I used to love making her do what I wanted. Bending her over with her hands tied behind her back -

I push the image away.

“Fine.” She says.

My brows raise. “Fine?”

“I’ll go. But this isn’t over, Giovanni. This conversation isn’t over and I’m not disappearing again. We will talk again. I’ll call you in a few days, after you’ve had time to grieve. But you have to understand that Guido and I have waited sixteen years. We won’t wait much longer.”

I clench my jaw and nod. At least she’s leaving for now. I’ll come up with a plan once I’ve had time to think. Maybe I can offer her money to disappear again.

“I understand.” I nod again when she looks at me with expectations of an answer.

“Good.” She sighs. Her eyes trace over my face, studying my features. Her lips part for a moment and my heart races for no reason at all.

Zina looks down, away from me, then turns her back on me and disappears into the dark sheets of rain with our son at her side.

For a long time I stand out in the rain alone.

I don’t want to go back inside. I should, but at the same time, I am the king of this kingdom and I have nothing to prove to anyone inside there.

I shove my hands into my pocket and walk towards my car. Away from the crowds waiting to find out what’s going on.

They can wait. I’ll never tell them the truth, anyway.

My sons will find their own way home.

I need to get away from all of this.

Grief affects everyone in different ways.

Losing Bella is an ache I’m carrying in my chest, but the weight of the constant pain she was in has lifted from my shoulders. The last two months were hell for both of us. More for her, but no one ever wants to see someone they love experiencing that.

Walking into our bedroom on the top floor of my mansion, my clothes still soaked from the rain, I leave wet footprints on the carpeted floor.

Bella would be angry with me if she saw this.

I smile, kicking my shoes off.

Two days ago this room looked like a medical ward at a hospital. There were machines next to her side of the bed to help her breath. There was a drip attached to a long steel pole, constantly feeding a low dose of morphine into her blood. She was in and out of consciousness. Sleeping through the worst days, fogged and weak on the best days.

I sigh loudly.

The family cleared everything of hers out of here, even her clothes in the closet. I didn’t stop them. What’s the point of holding onto her things when none of those items will bring her back to me.

I clench my jaw. I did keep something.

Pulling the top drawer of our dresser open I reach inside and pick up the ornate, vintage style perfume bottle. The crystal glass glitters as I turn it in my fingers. Lifting the bottle to my nose I breathe in, closing my eyes as her scent washes over me.

Her wedding ring is tied with a ribbon around the neck of the bottle.

This is all I have of her.

It’s all I kept.

Before emotions can overwhelm me I place the bottle back where it was and close the draw roughly.

In the bathroom I peel off my wet clothes and dump them into the tub before I climb into the shower and let hot, steaming water wash over me.

It beats against my back, massaging my skin and my thoughts.

Zina.

Why are you here?

What do you really want?

Why did you hide my son from me for all those years?

But I can’t be angry at her about that. She saved Bella the pain of knowing. But she robbed me of a son.

It can’t just be that she wants Guido to have a father. He’s already sixteen. She must be after money or status or power. I don’t know. When I knew her back then, she didn’t care about those things. She loved the earth, the ocean, the smell of the sea. She wore her hair loose and wild around her shoulders and laughed, loud without care.

And if this was about money she could have contacted me and blackmailed me years ago.

This is about something else.

I’m going to have to face her again sooner or later.

But I have no idea what to do about this.