Page 67 of One of Them

Emotions hit me out of nowhere. An uncomfortable burn rooted itself behind my eyes, threatening to spill the tears. A heaviness weighted down my entire being. In the sky’s safety, I broke down in front of a person for the first time in my adult life.

Quiet sobs sounded from my chest. I fought the urge to suppress the sounds. Enzo drew circles down my back, and it was his reassurement that made me let go of all that had been burdening me. I lost control, omitting everything that held me together.

Not only was I furious at Ilya for using me as a bargaining chip, but I also felt betrayed. By him, by my mother, or life in general. Everyone seemed to have abandoned me sooner or later.

Life took them away, leaving me with no choice but to take over.

Extinguish the wildfires they all left in their wake.

It would be so easy to resort back to being the girl hiding in the closet. Scared and hopeless. To not bother fighting anymore. Give up hope. Curse everybody to hell and back.

I couldn’t. That would mean they won.

I allowed myself this one moment of fragility. Let all the emotions out to make space for the strength to replace them.

Piece by piece, I will build back up.

“I can’t marry Malek, Enzo,” I forced out between hiccups.

“Understood.” He gave me a sharp nod, passing a bottle of fancy water.

“Do you think it’s selfish?” I sought his opinion, voicing the insecurity that made me doubt my actions.

Leveling me with a look, Enzo expressed his answer in a question. “To take control of your life?”

To refuse to give it up, I thought.

When we ran out of need for words, I resorted to playing out each scenario from start to finish. And when I finally considered all the options, I addressed Enzo, who patiently waited.

“I know what I have to do.”

With a subtle smile, he turned to me. “What do you need from me?”

“I need to get some sleep. Breakfast and coffee won’t hurt, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. I think it’s time I got to see the world.”

Enzo tensed at the statement, not understanding my intent, but I quickly put him at ease.

“At least for a short while.”

I held Maxim’s jacket hostage, closed my eyes, and dreamed about a new world.

A better world. Within reach. To those who dared to get their hands dirty and build the path.

Italy. The land of great food, stunning coastlines, endless sunshine, and men who inspired painters to preserve reality. I wasn’t sure which one excited me the most. Okay, fine, it was the pasta.

Enzo told me plenty of stories about his childhood in Sicily, where his family owned an olive tree farm. How each harvest he reached higher into the tree. How he raced his father down the hill, where his mother already waited with lunch and a sweet treat for the victor.

It was him I thought of when the private jet I chartered landed. To avoid complications, we parted ways inland.

Enzo was the sixth generation to carry on the family business. The Artuso’s were well-known on the island, mostly for their homemade products: olive oils, soaps, cosmetics. The usual stuff. Profitable, yes, but nowhere near as lucrative as their backdoor operations.

It all started with a conversation over a shot of espresso. One foggy morning, when the island’s fate hung in the balance. With Mount Etna on a roaring rampage and repairs desperately needed, the oldest Artuso decided it was time to step outside the confines of tradition. To bend their moral code and preserve what they were about to lose.

The business had grown into a global empire, smuggling contraband alongside the legitimate goods. Whatever you wanted, they could get their hands on it. His family’s network, built over generations, was unlike anything I’d ever seen.

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