Page 7

The Past is in the Past.

I wish I felt something when I walked into my mother’s wing, but I was too little to form a connection with her before she fell ill with Alzheimer’s. All I remember is spending time with her on the beach, jumping the small waves with her hand in mine before my father would call us to dinner. He loved my mother, more than anything in this world, which is why he brought our entire family out here. I can’t fault him for trying, I just wish he thought about our future.

The sound of thunderstorms rattles the window my mother blankly stares out from, barely noticing me in the room as I make my way to her. She’s seated in her usual large brown leather chair by the windowpane, staring out into nothing.

“ Mamma ?” I’m careful not to startle her as I take a seat beside her, placing my hand on hers, and when she looks at me, I know she doesn’t recognise me.

“ Posso aiutarti, bambino?”

Can I help you, child?

“Mamma, sono io, Nera.”

She laughs, placing a hand on her chest. “ Chi chiamerebbe la loro figlia Nera?”

Who would name their child black?

I fight back the emotions as I tighten my hold on her hand, wishing she would remember even for a short moment the little time we shared together.

“ Dov’è Dante? ” She asks for her husband, and I give her a sad smile.

“ Tornerà presto, Mamma. ”

He’ll be back soon, Mamma.

I lie, shielding her from experiencing the heartbreak of losing her husband one more time.

“Nera?”

I turn to see Dante standing by the door, his tall build barely fitting in the frame, and I lose all the empathy I once had for him.

“Can we talk?”

“I have nothing to say to you, brother .” I stand, my heels clicking on the wooden floor as I try to move past him, but he stops me.

“You can hate me all you want, I’ll take it, but I’m the one who’s burdened with saving the future of our family’s name. I’m only doing what I think is necessary,” he admits.

“You know…” I clench my jaw, my chest rising and falling faster. “You know Papà wouldn’t want this.”

“Where are Nino and Santi?” I question, noticing their absence as soon as I arrived.

“In the mainland,” he answers curtly, sick of me questioning him no doubt. He always hated that I had a mind of my own.

“Why? Papà would’ve wanted––”

“ Papà è morto! ” he yells, clearly frustrated. “He’s not here anymore okay, Nera? He’s dead and we are so close to being forced to make deals Papà worked to avoid.”

He takes a breath as I swallow the words I want to say.

“Do this…” he takes my hand in his, “ per la famiglia. ”

For the family.

That’s the price we pay, unwillingly, when born into families like mine. By chance, you could be born into one with generational wealth, or one that was forced to work under the wing of the wealthy, down to the last drop of sweat. Until one day, you had enough to take your family away from the dangers imposed by the mafia.

“The revelry couldn’t come sooner, because once I’m done here, I’m never coming back.” Ripping my hand out of his, I storm out of the wing, down the stairs and out into the early morning air. My feet want to carry me to where my father rests, but I don’t let them. I can’t bear to face the ghost of him, not when I’m doing everything he hoped I wouldn’t. Instead, I make my way to the beach. Taking off my shoes, I leave them beside the road, the cool pebbles pressing against my bare feet the closer I get to the shoreline.

The mist floats in the air above the water as I dip my toes in. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, the air becoming denser in my lungs, cleaner and free. I’m lost in my thoughts and memories of Falcon’s Keep until I open my eyes to a silhouette emerging from the depths of the ocean. The powerful figure brings his hands into his hair, wringing out the water, causing it to cascade down his shoulders and chest, covered with dark ink.

The water ripples at his thighs as he approaches me, his gunmetal eyes reflecting the sparkling sea.

“ Buongiorno, Nera. ” His deep voice rumbles as he stands before me, the water gliding down his skin, through every ridge of the muscles on his stomach and down to his dark briefs. I’m not a stranger to the male body, I’ve been around sports players, but Rafael could not be compared to them. His is rugged, with dark hair sprinkled over his broad chest, down over his abs, leading south to the place I don’t doubt is equally as robust . A few scars cover his skin, a large one on the left side of his stomach.

I smile, averting my eyes to the faint outline of the moon now slowly disappearing as the sun rises above the horizon. “You’re brave to swim at this hour.”

The heavy hum of his chuckle vibrates through me, and I lick my lips as my eyes return to his.

“Old habits.” His gaze lowers to my lips and down my neck to my chest. I can’t decide if he’s looking at me like he disapproves of my clothing or if he’s thinking something else. “Cold water helps enhance mood and reduces inflammation.”

I laugh. “You sound like my father.”

“He was a smart man.” He gives me a knowing smile, his beautiful, full lips glistening with sea water.

There’s a pause as we stand there, the sun’s rays beginning to get brighter, and I bring my arms across my chest as the gentle breeze picks up.

“It’s nice to see you,” I say, looking up at his hard features. “Even though I don’t really remember much about you.”

“Probably for the best.” He drops his gaze, taking a deep breath, and when he looks at me again, my heart races, similar to when you’re about to do something you probably shouldn’t. An adrenaline rush so intense, it sends a chill up my spine, and I know his stare from earlier wasn’t about my clothes.

“You were right, not much has changed.”

“Does it ever at Falcon’s Keep?” He licks the water off his lips, and it has me wondering if he was always this… enchanting.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Did you miss anything about this place?” he asks, making me think.

Did I?

I rarely ever thought about home when I was in the States, and I don’t know if it’s because I wanted to escape this place or the ghosts that haunt it.

“Maybe just the cove,” I admit, the images of the bioluminescent water by the waterfall filling my vision as I think about the days I spent there before leaving.

“Hm.” His jaw tenses as his stare heats my core.

I haven’t been this affected by a male’s presence since the first day of college. Withering under his focus, I change the subject. “So, what’s the theme this time?”

“For the revelry?” he asks as we begin making our way toward the manor. “You know Dante’s love for everything dark, dirty, and disturbing.”

“Will he be attending?”

“I believe we will have guests from London, so he may be entertaining them all night.”

“London?” I question, unsure of who we could possibly know in the UK.

“Distant relatives.” He’s quick to dismiss my inquiry, so I don’t push.

We walk alongside each other up toward the beach, his hand swaying next to mine, so close that if I move my fingers an inch, they’d touch.

“Will Nino and Santi come to the revelry?” I ask, ignoring the other not-so-innocent thoughts.

“Shouldn’t you be asking your brother?”

“You know everything he does,” I counter, hoping he’ll answer, but he doesn’t. He keeps walking until we’re at the end of the road connecting to the beach.

“Dante’s trying.” He defends my brother, but I shouldn’t be surprised because they are like brothers, more so than Nino or Santi.

“I guess you two are closer than ever now, huh?” I snicker, bending to pick up my shoes and put them on. “He says bark, you say how loud?”

His expression hardens, displeased with my response. “ Stai attento, Nera. You may be his sister…” He leans in, his lips brushing my ear, the salt on his skin close enough for me to taste. “But you’re not mine by blood.”