Page 23 of Enzo's Vow
A tremor ran through me, not taking this woman’s threat lightly. I glanced around, but no one came to my defense. One staff member swallowed, another bit down on their lip. They all feared her, too. In a way, everyone living under this roof experienced some form of imprisonment. The voice in my head told me to run. Instead, I donned bravery and stepped toward her, my bare feet registering the chill of the mosaic tile beneath them. “My mother made a mistake. Stop blaming me for her sins. Just let me go home, please?” I didn’t wait for an answer since her glare, sharp and cold, was answer enough.
Fleeing the room, I dashed past the dining table, neglecting my breakfast. My plan to garner sympathy from the maid was now useless. With Enzo’s threats and the frightened staff, any chanceof speaking to my loved ones died. At this rate, I might as well let them break me, whatever they meant, and get it over with. I ground my molars.No. I couldn’t give up. Not yet.
Chapter 10
Enzo
I cut the engine, the stillness almost a balm after the ebb and flow of voices and horns in Messina.
Giulia greeted me in the foyer and took my briefcase. The aroma of baked focaccia filled the air, a promise of homeliness the mansion almost never offered. She twisted her fingers together, not meeting my eyes—a bad sign. “What’s the matter, Giulia?”
“It’s Gemma.” She released a long sigh. “She’s upset…no left her room all day.” Giulia held out her palm. “I asked her, want to visit the library or pool?” Her hand rose in a stop signal. “Ma, she refused.”
I rubbed my forehead. My little wife insisted on making life more complicated. “Where is she now?”
“In her room, reading herbibbia. I worry, Enzo. She ate nothing yesterday, and this morning,niente. Only two bites of toast. The dress fitter will come in two weeks, but if Gemma no eat, she no fit in dress.”
I stared up at the staircase, bracing for another inevitable argument. Considering the last few days, I anticipated her lack of appetite, but expected hunger would force her to eat. Starvation wasn’t a pleasant experience; the dull ache low in the stomach, the sense of vertigo and nausea… I clenched my jaw, dismissing the memory. “A dress fitter?”
She tilted forward at my sudden frown. “For your Zio’s party.”
My mother’s brother. I almost forgot the event neared. “When’s dinner being served?”
She beamed as though I already solved the matter. “In five minutes, I’m about to call your mother and brother.”
“Go ahead. I’ll make sure she comes down to eat.” I charged upstairs, a silent plea forming in my mind.For once, let her be reasonable.
The guards at her door stepped aside. I clutched the handle, my fingers already turning it before I checked myself. This wasn’t my room anymore. Not entirely. Knocking on the door, I warned her of my presence, the formality grating on me.
“Come in,” she called out, her voice muffled.
Gemma reclined on the bed, dressed in a casual outfit—jeans and a t-shirt. Not the silk pajamas or designer loungewear I could afford her, but standard denims. She actually looked comfortable. As rigid as a taxidermied animal, she kept her head buried in the book open in her lap.
I stood over her, arms crossed. So, this was how she used the freedom I’d given her to roam the house? Burying herself in a book. “Come downstairs for dinner,” I managed, the words feeling like shards of glass scratching their way out.
She snapped the book shut—the same marriage devotional she’d thrown at me the other day. My scalp still tingled under my curls, a ghost of the impact.
“I’m not hungry.” Her voice, short and clipped, left no room for argument.
The lingering scent of burnt coffee clung to my suit from the earlier bump-in with a coworker inside the elevator, a reminder of the day’s disasters. Road closures, a sick assistant, a lunchtime blackout… and now this, from my little wife! My jaw clenched, a muscle pulsed in my cheek.Calm. Lombardy ran like clockwork; I yearned for the order my hometown offered.My voice, even to my own ears, dripped with a dangerous smoothness. “One piece of toast all day? You must be starving.”
“What?” The word cracked out of her, and she straightened. “Are you tracking my calories?”
My eye twitched. I clenched my fists. This woman’s deliberate defiance pushed me to the edge. “Maybe I will. You look like you could use a pound or two on those bones. Now come downstairs.”
She slammed her Bible on the duvet. “No. I won’t sit at the same table as the woman who threatened my mother.”
“She’s your mother-in-law now.” I hoped she’d be a little softer today, considering she got her way last night by kicking me out of my room,ourroom. Instead, I get a lockdown and hunger strike. “Stop being disrespectful.”
“Respect?” She huffed a laugh and retrieved her Bible, flipping through the pages. “You listen here, buddy. I’m more than capable of treating people withrespect, but I refuse to share a meal withthatwoman.”
Something obviously happened. I’d tell Carina to cut her some slack… later. Right now, Gemma wasn’t starving herself to death. I plucked the Bible from her hands, tossed the book aside, and hoisted her over my shoulder.
“Put me down!” She shouted at my back, kicking. I secured her legs against my chest, marched her downstairs, and ignored her screams ringing my ears. Necessary. Perhaps she’d thank me later, when she finally satisfied her hunger.Maybe.
I barged into the dining hall.
Carina’s gaze flared.
