Page 53 of The Don's Eternal Vows

I glance at Genoveva. Her knuckles are white on the door handle, but there's a spark in her eyes I haven't seen in days. She’s smiling now, truly smiling.

I speed up a little more and take a dangerous curve that makes the car sway. “Oh, Gianni!” she grins, laughter bubbling up her throat.

It fuels me, pushes me to drive harder, faster.

I crank up the stereo, letting Puccini's "Nessun Dorma" fill the air. The swelling orchestral notes blend with the engine's howl, creating a symphony of power and passion.

"Remember this one?" I shout over the cacophony. "From our first date?"

Genoveva nods, her lips moving. She's singing along, but her voice is a whisper, barely audible over the rush of wind and music.

"Come on, principessa!" I urge, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Let it out! Sing with me!"

She tries, her voice growing slightly stronger, but it's a pale imitation of the vibrant woman I remember. The woman who once sang so loudly and freely that pedestrians stopped to stare.

I won't give up. I can't. "Remember how we used to belt this out?" I say, my voice low and intense. "How we'd drive for hours, just singing and laughing?"

A smile flickers across her face. It's not much, but it's something. And I'll take it.

I push the car harder, chasing that elusive spark in her eyes, determined to fan it into a flame.

The sprawling green field unfurls before us as I ease the car to a stop. Genoveva's eyes widen, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. I follow her line of sight, and there it is – a massive hot air balloon, its vibrant colors stark against the azure sky.

"Oh my goodness," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. It's the first time she's expressed awe without prompting.

I lean in, drinking in the sight of her. There's a light in her eyes, a spark of curiosity, maybe even excitement. It sets my heart racing.

"What do you think, principessa?" I ask, unable to keep the grin off my face. "Ready for a little adventure?"

I exit the car swiftly, moving around to her side. As I open her door, I extend my hand, my touch firm yet gentle as I help her out. Her fingers intertwine with mine, and for a moment, I'm transported back to simpler times.

"We're going up there?" Genoveva asks, a hint of excitement in her voice.

I nod, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Just you and me, cara mia. A date among the clouds."

My excitement is palpable, infectious even. I can feel it radiating off me in waves, and I see it reflected in Genoveva's lips' slight upturn.

"I've never been in a hot air balloon before," she admits, her eyes never leaving the colorful behemoth before us.

I chuckle, low and warm. "Neither have I. But that's the beauty of it. We'll experience it together, create a new memory."

As we walk towards the balloon, I can't help but notice how Genoveva's steps become more purposeful, her posture straightening ever so slightly. It's as if each step closer to our airborne adventure is breathing life back into her.

"You're not scared, are you?" I tease gently, my thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

She turns to me then, and for a fleeting moment, I see a flash of the fierce, independent woman I fell in love with. "Scared? Please, Gianni. A little altitude won't faze me. Besides, isn’t a little tryst with death fun?"

I want to laugh, to please, but there’s something about the way she says it that puts me on edge. Instead, I avert my gaze, her joy seeming dangerous now. “That’s my girl,” I whisper, caressing her finger, even though something tells me not all is right behind her joy.

Before I can ask her about it, a burly man with a weathered face approaches, his skeptical gaze darting between us and the balloon. He’s a stranger, and around him, I feel safe bringing Genoveva. "Mr. Montagna? I'm your pilot, Carlo. We should discuss safety protocols before—"

"That won't be necessary," I interject, my voice low and gravelly. I feel Genoveva's hand tighten in mine. "I'll be handling the flight myself."

Carlo's eyes widen. "But sir, it's not that simple. There are regulations and procedures. No alone person—"

I fix him with an unwavering stare, feeling the familiar rush of authority coursing through me. "I assure you, I'm more than capable. My word is final. Besides, my wife’s with me."

He opens his mouth to argue, but something in my expression makes him think better of it. He gives me a quizzical look. I raise an eyebrow with impatience.

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