Page 121 of The Silence Lies

“You remind me so much of her.”

Serafina

“You remind me so much of her.”

I freeze.

Is he…? Did he…?

My brows furrow, still unsure whether I just imagined it. The longer that time stretches between us, the more uncertain I become until the only thing I can do is confirm my suspicions.

“What?’

Slowly, I turn to find Giovanni staring at the photograph in his hands. His lips are tightly sealed, but his eyes are glazed over, like the image in front of him brings back too many memories to handle.

“You’re stubborn, determined,” he says, and I don’t miss the smooth way he rolls his r’s. His voice is raspy, no doubt from the lack of talking and the fact he has been out of it for the last few days, and it does something to me that I never thought it would. “You’re also fiercely loyal.”

My breath hitches, drying my throat instantly. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished I could hear his thoughts, listen to his words. He holds a depth that I’ve never been able to fathom, and even now, as he starts listing all the similarities between myself and someone else, I’m hit with a newfound admiration.

Giovanni traces a finger over the image, a single tear beading in the corner of his eye.

“Who?” I ask softly, cautiously stepping towards the bed. Right now, Giovanni is like a wild deer. I need to tread carefully if I’m going to get a conversation out of him. He’s so unpredictable, so untamed that one wrong move could result in me being shut out again.

I don’t want that. Not with the way his accent flows like smooth silk, his Italian heritage shining through the lilt in his words.

“My daughter,” he eventually says. The fondness in his eyes only increases, a small smile pressing his lips that takes my breath away. It pulls me closer to him, almost mindlessly, until I’m perched beside him on the bed.

“You have a daughter?” I manage to choke out.

“Gabriella,” he answers proudly.

My heart swells at the way his eyes light up at the mention of her name. It’s unmistakable how much love he holds for his daughter, the way fathers should. I still feel the angry pinch of guilt clutching at my chest, because the whole reason we are in this situation is because of what my own father said to me.

Three days have passed since that moment on the dance floor and my father has spent those days calling every hour to attempt to speak to me. I’m thankful that I have Levi to screen my calls, but that only seems to piss my father off even more.

“Where is she now?” My heart sinks a little as I ask the question, realizing he has spent the last couple of months by my side. I know he hasn’t seen his daughter, and I’ve never heard him speak to her. Unless the phone calls I know he has been taking are from her? I never get to hear how the conversations go, I would never invade Giovanni’s privacy like that, but I’m still intrigued to know about them.

Giovanni’s eyes soften. A level of sadness frames those green orbs, and I’m instantly regretting my question. “She was taken from me.”

“Is that why you’ve always been… silent?” I rasp, reaching for his hand.

He shifts to prop himself upright, but the injury to his stomach is still fresh. He must have forgotten because he winces and groans, fighting through it until he’s propped up against his pillows.

“Where is her mother?” I know how often this situation can happen, especially in broken families. I’m thankful that my parents were never subject to that kind of sadness, but it doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. If anything, I’m more aware of it. Women who resent their husbands for trying to do their best by them, always end up making them suffer. Money, children, lives, they all change.

Giovanni shakes his head, allowing an eerie silence to fall between us. It sits heavy like a blanket, threatening to suffocate us. I swallow back the fear that laces my next words. I need to know what happened. I need to understand why Giovanni remains silent all the time. I have to find out how I can help him because his sadness is something I hate seeing. I’m used to the stoic bodyguard, the guy who can give you a look and suddenly all your doubts and worries fade away.

I want to be that for him.

“Where is Gabriella?” I want clarity, I need to know how I can help him. He looks so damn broken, like no matter how much you try to glue those pieces together, he’s one slip up from falling apart. How has he gone so long with this lingering over him? Losing a child, in any circumstance can’t be easy. I need to know more. I need to heal the guy who’s spent months protecting me, only to end up this fragmented soul.

“Gone,” Giovanni says under his breath.

I squeeze his hand, and he reciprocates. Even in the buttery glow of light, his turmoil still makes him astoundingly beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can muster. Anything else would feel empty and meaningless.

He nods with certainty, but I sense from the way he’s looking at me that he is done with answering my questions. I’ve already overstepped and edged past the invisible boundary that sets us apart as boss and employee. But I’m still magnetized to the man that stepped in front of a bullet for me, the guy who stared me right into the eyes when he fired a shot at my captor.

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