“Next week. Your father had contact with one of his suppliers. That’s how he knew he would be returning to Florence. My father and I have been trying to track him down for a year, but since he was hiding in Croatia, it was too difficult. But now we have our chance.”
“I hope you get what you want—and it gives you closure.”
Killing Ramon wouldn’t bring my mother back, but it had to be done anyway.
“Have you talked to your father lately?”
“I avoid him like the plague.”
“I don’t blame you.” She finished her scotch then set the glass on the table. Her cigar was still burning, so she took another puff then left it in the ashtray. A string of smoke escaped from her lips.
When I’d stepped into that hospital room and watched Dante leave, I didn’t like him immediately. A real man wouldn’t have allowed her to marry someone else. He wouldn’t have given up on her. A woman like this should have been with a man who could have protected her from Kamikaze and all the other assholes that hated her father. That was how I knew Dante wasn’t good enough for her—not even close. “What do you see in him?”
It took her a moment to understand the question. Her eyebrows rose slowly as she regarded me, deducing exactly who I was talking about. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Doesn’t seem like your type.”
“And you know my type?” she questioned.
“I just assumed you were interested in men—not boys.”
Sparks flew in her eyes. “Dante is a good man, and I might have married him if this hadn’t happened. He’s kind and good to me. He’s much better than that trashy woman who wouldn’t bother putting on her shoes before walking out the door.”
I didn’t take offense to that because I didn’t give a damn about what’s-her-name. “She means nothing to me, so I don’t care if she is trashy. But you love this guy, so it’s a different story. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t have stepped aside and let you marry someone else. That’s why I don’t understand what you see in him.”
“I never said I loved him.”
“You said you would have married him.”
“I said I might have married him if things were different. We only met a few months ago, so we didn’t have much time together before all of this happened. And I never would have wanted him to interfere because it would have cost him his life.”
“And if he were your man, he wouldn’t have cared.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem like the kind of man that’s ever been in love, so you shouldn’t talk about it like you understand it.”
“I’m not talking about love. I’m talking about being a man—two very different things. And in my eyes, Dante is no man.” I rose to my feet and left the glasses and ashtray on the table. “Fuck whoever you want—but I think you can do better.” I moved around her couch and headed to the door.
“That’s ironic,” she said without turning around. “I could say the same about you.”
14
Arwen
For the next few days, I worked at the opera and slept at Dante’s. Annoyed by Maverick’s comments, I avoided him. His opinion shouldn’t matter to me, but I was tired of trying to lay a tolerable foundation between us and have him destroy it every time. Just when I thought I could talk to him, he proved me wrong.
It was hard to believe he was the man who’d held my hand through my father’s funeral, the man who’d acted as my crutch to survive those horrible days. Unexpectedly, he could be the most compassionate man I’d ever met—but he could turn on you.
I went to the theater that night and performed, getting lost in the music as I played to an audience I couldn’t see. The stage lights were so bright on my face that everything in the background was just darkness.
But it still made me feel alive.
Singing had been my passion since I could remember. Now I used it to nurse my broken heart, to focus on something so my mind wouldn’t drift away. Everything in my life had changed drastically—this was the only thing that stayed the same.
When the curtains closed, Dante came backstage, roses in his hand.
I smiled at the gesture and resisted the urge to kiss him since I had to be discreet with my affairs now. But I knew my emotions were written on my face; I was grateful that this man was still around. He was the only remaining person from my former life, a reminder of how my life used to be.
“You were amazing. I could watch you sing forever.”
“Thank you.”
“Want to have dinner at my place?”
“There’s no place I’d rather go.”
We ate at his dining table, enjoying the food that was delivered to the apartment. We couldn’t go out anymore because we couldn’t be seen together. Our time together was spent in this apartment, mainly in his bed. It started to feel like an affair as time passed. It started off as a relationship—but now it was just a secret.