Page 51 of A Beautiful Crime

Even surrounded by death, the gloomy atmosphere evident, Carina Fiore evokes the strongest emotions in a man by catching only a glimpse of her.

Engrossed by her mamma’s statue instead of a common headstone, my presence has gone unnoticed. Even as I open the door and shut it lightly behind me she doesn’t move a muscle. Reminding me more and more of the rock against the ocean storm.

Giving a nod of my head at Pietro he stands dutifully by the hood of the car as I button my suit jacket and proceed towards her.

As I’m halfway to her I give another nod of my head, this time to Gino. He nods his head back respectfully and takes another step back, standing under the limbs of a willow tree.

I come to a halt just a mere two feet behind her. Her posture hasn’t changed and it causes me to believe that my presence is still unnoticed.

That is until I hear her monotony voice. “Disturbing one while visiting their loved one is considered inconsiderate and highly inappropriate.” She then turns her head slightly, looking over her shoulder, her emerald eyes peeking through the veil of her hair. “Yet that means nothing to you, isn’t that right, Signore?”

My lips twitch despite myself. Her voice may be monotone but the choice to deny my order of calling me by my name, and the fire simmering in her eyes betrays her.

I cock my head to the side, studying her face in great detail. Her eyes stay determinedly on mine. And I must say her unwavering bravery, her absolute defiance, excites me.

“I told you I’m a man who doesn’t concern himself with what’s appropriate or politically correct,” I remind her with a smirk upon my face.

“Nor do you concern yourself with respecting one’s privacy.”

“With you, Carina,” as I say her name, rolling it off of my tongue in a velvet caress, I take notice of how her eyes come more alive, “nothing concerns me.”

“How fortunate of me,” she sarcastically remarks.

If she were someone else her insolence wouldn’t be tolerated. It would begin with the cutting of a tongue and end to a miserable painful death.

Yet her insolence, her defiance and spirit, is a great welcome.

She’s becoming more and more alive each and every time that we speak and for that I could never reprimand her for it.

After all, a Queen must know her worth and not be afraid to speak her mind, to whomever she’s conversing to.

If she can speak to me this way she can speak to any man this way.

And that is power money can not buy.

That is the power of a natural born ruler.

She then gives me her back as she faces her late mamma’s statue in where she lies six feet underground.

The Catholic symbol in all its grand glory stands ten feet tall before us, Gate of Heaven.

For as much as I know my religion and held respect for it when I was younger I never once believed in it.

There’s too much corruption and sin in religion for me to have faith in any of it.

Priests who believe they were called upon by God himself to spread his word only to then lure in young boys and girls under their wicked thumb.

Catholic schools that will beat their students into submission without an ounce of remorse in the nun’s eyes.

The worshippers themselves who follow the Bible as if it’s law, as if it excuses them of their horrid behavior and terrifying actions.

Sinners, the worst kind, rapists and child abusers, confess their sins to a priest in a confessional to be forgiven and be led to a path of redemption. Only then to go back out into the world to rape again, to abuse their children again.

The cold hard and bitter truth that people choose to be blind to is there are people who don’t deserve forgiveness. There are people who can not be redeemed.

I’m the first to admit I’m not a good man. I’m no hero. Never once was a white knight riding gallantly on his steed.

Unlike those who give their life to religion believing they are good, even after everything they have done.

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