Page 253 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

Nestled beside him, her hand a deadweight on his abdomen, a strand of her long hair tickling his arm, Victoria.

The dream-like bubble of the past week was coming to an end. Soon, he would have to wake her. They needed to shower and then head to her apartment so she could change into her work clothes before they went into the office and reminded the staff of what they looked like.

He hadn’t had so much time off work since Tommaso.

It had been a difficult birth. Livia had suffered. But then their perfect baby had been born and happiness had suffused her. Suffused them both. The purest kind of love. The three of them, his little family. A whole life together to be lived.

In the blink of an eye it had all gone and the purity of his love had turned into a grief so unbearable the pain had made him want to die.

Work had been his salvation. He’d returned to the small building that had homed his then small empire the day after they’d laid Tommaso to rest. He’d taken only rare days off since. His annual visit to his parents’ home for Christmas was always calculated to last no more than four days, including travelling. Work hard. Play hard. Exhaust the mind and body. Leave no time for thoughts or feelings.

His thoughts now refused to switch off but, without any forethought, he slipped out of bed and headed silently to his dressing room, closing the door before switching the light on so the brightness didn’t wake Victoria.

Behind his rails of shirts, he unlocked the hidden safe he kept his more expensive valuables in. He didn’t possess many of them. He’d never been one for status symbols. A handful of ridiculously expensive watches, a signet ring he always felt like a mafia boss wearing, a few pairs of diamond cufflinks too expensive to go into the cufflink drawer, and his grandmother’s engagement ring.

‘You’re the only one left who can use it,’ his grandfather had said when he’d given it to him over Christmas. Meaning Marcello was the only one of his grandchildren unmarried, something his mother, who’d abandoned any subtlety of her hope that Marcello remarry this past year, had no doubt put in his mind.

If he hadn’t respected his grandfather so greatly, and if he hadn’t understood his well-meant intention, Marcello would have reminded him that he was unmarried because he was divorced and that the scars from what he and Livia had been through meant he would never marry again.

The ghost of Livia’s voice echoed through the walls from the last time he’d seen her.

Then why did you come here?

He was still no closer to an answer. No closer, either, to understanding why he’d agreed to the keynote speech in Rome. He’d refused his brother’s four previous requests so why accept this one? Why put himself through the pain of returning to the city of his darkest days when he didn’t need to?

And why was he standing in his dressing room staring at a ring? He didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to look at it. Didn’t understand the hollowness of his mood or the brooding nature of his thoughts.

Exhaling through his nose, he locked the safe back up and moved his shirts back into place to cover it, then turned out the dressing room light and gazed at Victoria through the dim moonlight pouring through the windows. She’d turned over and huddled deeper into the duvet.

His next exhale was a fight against his own airwaves.

He’d let her sleep a little longer.

Showered, still trying to make sense of his thoughts and feelings, Marcello selected his suit, then rifled through his ties. The hot water had done him the world of good and washed away much of the strange mood that had clung to him. He’d figured out, too, what had caused it. It was all the talk and thoughts about Tommaso. The grief he usually kept compartmentalised had risen these last few days. Longer really. He’d thought about his son more in recent times than he usually ever allowed himself.

Victoria was still asleep.

He watched her from the bedroom door as he’d done a short while earlier from his dressing room, a fresh weight forming in his guts.

This would be the last time he saw her like this.

He closed his eyes and breathed out the pain.

It had to be this way.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DREADLAYHEAVYin Victoria from the moment consciousness pulled her from sleep.

This was it. The day she destroyed her own happiness and threw away everything she’d worked for.

Stifling a whimper, she rolled over, seeking out Marcello. His side of the bed was empty.

Cuddling into his pillow, she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in the remnants of his scent. She wanted desperately to make love to him one last time, before she detonated the bomb. Experience the blissful closeness one last time.

His robe was slung on the back of the armchair, and she wrapped herself in it before searching for him. His office and the living space below were both empty.

She tried to draw air into her tight lungs.

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