Page 97 of Vengeful Vows

Two hours later, we’re finally finished, and the three of us leave his father’s home office. Due to the fact we were discussing all business interests, we met here rather than the corporate headquarters.

The main part of the house is a different world.

My aunt has decorated for Christmas with numerous trees, tons of little white lights, and lots of greenery—whatever that’s called.

I hug my uncle and greet my aunt with a kiss on the cheek.

“Eggnog?” she offers.

Her chef has made it, and she always laces it with a terrific amount of brandy.

Instead of waiting for a reply, she pours a cup and hands it to me.

Raffaele is speaking with his sons, leaving me momentarily alone with Aunt Gina.

“I had a lovely visit with your wife recently.”

Stunned, a million questions roaring through my head, I stare. “I didn’t know you were in contact.” My words are bland in contrast to the emotion she’s stirred up.

“Moretti women stick together.”

Which means she doesn’t know that Bella will not be my wife much longer.

“I know about the offer you made her.”

The news that she knows about the divorce rocks me. Has she shared it with my uncle?

“What do you think it means that she hasn’t responded?”

That she’s hired an attorney of her own and that I can expect to receive a ridiculous counteroffer.

“I’ve told you before to be the man she needs.”

I’m no closer to knowing what the hell that means than I was weeks ago.

“You’re a smart man, Nico.”

“She told me she wanted her freedom.”

Aunt Gina smiles. “From what I can see, that doesn’t seem to have made her happy.”

“Is there any more eggnog?” Dario asks, joining us.

Aunt Gina points to the refrigerator.

For a few more minutes, I visit with my uncle and Matteo. Then I excuse myself. Before it gets much later, I want to see Roberto.

According to his wife, Clara, he doesn’t have much time left, though she hopes they can share one final holiday season.

When I arrive, he’s in the living room. A Christmas tree is brightly lit, and a fire crackles in the hearth. The television is on, an image frozen since the show they’d been watching has clearly been paused.

He’s in his favorite chair, a blanket over his knees.

When he attempts to stand, I encourage him to remain where he is.

“There’s no need to continue to visit me, Nico. You’ve done your duty.”

“It’s not about obligation.” I shake his hand. “I genuinely enjoy spending time with you.” And I still have much to learn.

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