Page 67 of The Crimson Lily
Giovanni understands my furtive question. “My father was a bastard who deserved to die.”
Wow. Harsh, but I let him go on.
“My mother kicked him out when I was little,” he continues. “Because we had no money, she didjobsso I wouldn’t starve. And when I was older, I didjobstoo.”
“It sounds like a complicated childhood,” I mirror with a wistful smile.
That makes him chuckle, and his cute dimples are back. “We all have problems, right?”
I don’t answer that. I just look into his eyes that shine with a complicit glow. We were both kids who grew up in situations that brought us here, in an alternate future away from the law. I still need to figure out my reasons for joining the Syndicate, but Giovanni’s are clear, why he became a mafia soldier. And they are justified. What are you supposed to do when the world turns its back on you?
We eat our pizzas and down that bottle of wine around conversations about our lives. I tell him about Paris, as covertly as I can, of course, and about my life in New York. Giovanni speaks of his mother, Lydia Volta, who now lives a peaceful, retired life outside Rome. He tells me he calls her every single day to tell her he loves her. I find that so endearing I almost get tears in my eyes.
During our delightful evening, I check my phone a few times, hoping for a message from Maksim. I expected him to call me once he was done with whatever he needed to do. But nothing. No text, no call. It makes me a little sad, like I was abandoned. No—abandoned isn’t the right word. Maybe…forgotten? I’m getting bitter from that feeling, always waiting forhim.
Giovanni takes me back to the hotel when the clock almost strikes 11 p.m. I’m quite lightheaded from the bottle of wine, then the three glasses of limoncello we savored with Italian gelato. Like a gentleman, he opens the taxi door for me and takes my hand to help me out of the car. I thank him gracefully, like a diva who’s about to walk the red carpet to get to her show—at least, my fluffy faux fur coat makes me look like one. I’d expect him to rush back into the taxi and leave, but instead, he accompanies me to the Grand Hotel Flora’s entrance.
We stand still for a minute, enough that it becomes a little uncomfortable for me. Giovanni looks at me with his mossy-green eyes. I know that look. I don’t want to see it, but I know what he’s about to do, right in that instant, as he takes a step toward me.
“Giovanni,” I begin, placing my hand on his chest so he won’t take a step closer. “Don’t?—”
Too late. My whole world crumbles. He’s taken my lips and keeps me caged in his arms. I push him slightly, yet he insists on staying there and tasting the kiss I won’t return.
When he eventually lets me go, his gaze bounces between me and the hotel’s entrance, as if to ask for permission to follow me inside.
“No,” I blurt.
He purses his lips to feel the aftertaste of mine.
“Goodnight,bella,” he says with a complying smile that isn’t really a smile.
I watch him walk back to the taxi, get inside, and drive away. I stay there for a few hesitant seconds, leaving room for an incredible wave of guilt to splash on my shoulders. Only one sentence repeatedly flashes in my mind.
I kissed another man.
How could you, Liliana? I rush into the hotel, hiding my face, and race up the stairs to get to my room as fast as possible.When I close the door behind me, I collapse against it. I wrap my arms around my knees and empty my face of shameful tears. Maksim…Where are you, Maksim? How could you do this to him, Liliana? I hate myself. I hate every bone in my body. I don’t want to stop crying. I don’t want to move. I let every shred of guilt and remorse settle in my veins.
How could you?
It’s a good twenty minutes later that I gather enough will to stand up. I discard my coat on the floor, make no effort whatsoever for my boots, and amble like a zombie to the suite’s living room. It’s dark, too dark to see, so I tap the wall in search of a switch.
Click.
That wasn’t me. That couldn’t be me. Because the switch is right at the opposite end of the room, and Maksim stands there, tall in his dark-gray suit. It’s like I’m hallucinating, my eyes swollen and itching from the tears. He’s more handsome than I remember. He turns his face to place the glass of whiskey he’s holding onto the table beside him. His strong jawline scowls at me.
I crumble on my knees, crying, folding myself in a worshipping pose. I’m screaming inanities while spewing a river of tears.
“I’m so sorry, Maksim!”
“I don’t know what happened.”
“Please forgive me!”
He just marches to me, his footsteps heavy. I swear he’s angry. I don’t know what he’ll do, but I just want him to stay here and not go away. Not leave me.
He crouches beside me and lays a hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t say a thing. I don’t know how, but I’m sure he’s aware ofwhat just happened. I don’t have to explain my demeanor, just beg him to forgive me between tears.
Maksim stands back up and waits for me to follow.
