Revenge (35 page)

She tried to touch him again and he jerked
away. It took everything he had not to yell. “Leave me. I need a
while to myself.”

He heard her breath catch and then the
scuffing of her shoes as she walked away. When the door to their
room closed behind her, a strangled sound, halfway between a sob
and a moan, forced its way out of his constricted throat. He
pressed a fist to his mouth. He would not cry. He would not
mourn.

He’d leaned on the edge of the terrace for
countless minutes, maybe hours, his eyes staring at the water but
not seeing it, the late afternoon sun hitting his face, when he saw
Kate shuffle by below, wiping her eyes, the damn tissue box still
clutched to her chest.

He looked away from the gleam of her auburn
hair and the flutter of her flowered dress in the wind, but like a
magnet, she drew his eyes back. He watched her for a while, his
anger receding. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t be suffering,
would she? Hope flared in his chest, a sun in miniature, warming
him from the inside out. She
did
love him.

He wanted to be angry with her, but this was
his fault entirely. He’d told her he loved her, but he hadn’t shown
her that love. He’d helped her, yes, but he hadn’t trusted her, not
in the way that most mattered. Was it any wonder she was pulling
away?

He needed to show her that he loved her more
than he loved anyone else, including himself. That he trusted her.
He’d have to tell her everything. Everything that could send him to
prison.

And he’d have to introduce her to his father,
so she’d understand how this life could be her death. If she was
going to stay with him, he wanted her to do it with wide open
eyes.

He pulled out his mobile phone and the number
Don Battista had given him. His hand shook so much he had to punch
in the numbers twice.

He hadn’t seen his father in over ten years.
Only God knew if he’d find anything other than a ruin.

Kate left Enrico in the room and walked down
to the lobby, still carrying the tissue box. She wandered around
the hotel grounds, crying on and off, not caring who saw her. It
was for the best. She couldn’t let him plan a future with her when
she had no intention of staying. That wouldn’t be fair.

So why did she feel like such a bitch?
Really
,
Kate
?
Let’s make a list: Because you lied
when you said you didn’t love him
?
Because you told him the
real reason you first slept with him
?
Because you just
had
to imply he’d helped you only because you were in his
bed
?

There were low blows, and then there were low
blows. All Enrico had ever done was help her. And love her.

And this was how she repaid him.

He should throw her to the wolves. Hell, he
should dump her on Carlo’s doorstep.

But he’d do no such thing. Because Rico was a
kind, decent man. Whatever he was keeping from her, could it be so
bad? It must be a doozy, or he’d have told her just now, but he’d
said nothing. And maybe
that
was for the best.

She’d been right to end their relationship
before they got any more involved. Before she couldn’t bear to
leave him.

But if breaking up was the right thing do,
why was she so torn? Why did she want to throw herself in his arms
and take it all back, every single ugly word?

She swallowed a sob. Some things couldn’t be
unsaid. Some things couldn’t be undone. Some things couldn’t be
forgiven.

And that’s what she wanted, right? For him to
leave her.

Then why had her chest turned into an empty
gnawing pit? Why was her stomach threatening to turn inside
out?

Why did she feel so damn horrible?

When Kate returned to the room, Enrico told
her they were having dinner with his father.

What the hell was he thinking
? “You
don’t seriously want to introduce me to him
now
, do
you?”

“I need to see him. You need to eat.”

She laughed. “I can call room service.”

“Please humor me.” He raked a hand through
his hair, his face pained. “He will be better if you are
there.”

The look on his face tore something in her
gut. “What do you mean?”

“You will see.” He glanced at his watch. “We
need to leave soon. Are you ready?”

“You’re serious.”

He stared at her for a moment before
answering. “Yes. Can we go?”

“Let me wash my face. I’ve cried off all my
makeup.”

“You do not need it. You never have.”

She almost rolled her eyes. “Do you never
stop flirting?”

“I am not flirting with you.” His eyes held
hers, not a trace of mirth in them.

Ouch
. “Give me a few minutes.” She
hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She washed
her face, then stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like
hell. And she didn’t want to do this. She just wanted to go home.
To leave.

To forget.

It took them about twenty minutes to walk to
the address his father had given him. The house surprised Enrico.
It was well-kept, but small and nondescript. Hardly the place one
would expect a man of Rinaldo’s fortune to live in. It was nothing
like the grand house he’d bought on the shores of Lake Como.
How
the mighty had fallen. Will this be me someday
?

His heart hammering, he knocked on the door
and waited. They’d spoken only briefly on the phone; Rinaldo had
shown little enthusiasm for seeing Enrico, but he hadn’t said no
either. “Fine,” was all the answer he’d given.

The ghost who shambled to the door bore
little resemblance to the hearty man of Enrico’s youth, and he
ached anew to see the change in his father. His thick hair was shot
through with silver, his handsome face gaunt, his dark eyes nearly
expressionless.
He looks like the walking dead.
It was a
horrible thing to see.

After a moment of staring into his father’s
lifeless eyes, a hot, hard ball of anger started to burn in his
chest. Rinaldo hadn’t lost everyone that day. He still had Enrico.
Why wasn’t that worth living for?
Why am I not enough
?

Rinaldo stared at him for a moment, then he
looked from Enrico to Kate. “So you are the cause of all this
trouble,” he said to her.

Kate looked up at Rinaldo. Then she cast a
doubtful look at Enrico. “Rico, maybe we should go,” she
whispered.

They stood there, the three of them frozen
for a moment, then his father said, “I suppose we should get this
over with.” He motioned them inside and led them into a simple
kitchen. Enrico and Kate took seats at a rough-hewn wooden table. A
delicious aroma filled the tiny kitchen as Rinaldo opened the oven
and pulled out a covered baking dish.

“Baked ziti,” Enrico said.

A trace of a smile appeared on Rinaldo’s
face. “Just like Nonna Drina’s.” He set the pan down, then dished
out generous portions onto plates. “How is she?”

“The same. She will outlive us all.”

Rinaldo huffed with laughter. “Certainly she
will outlive me.”

“Do not say that,” Enrico said, surprised by
the catch in his voice. He took the plate Rinaldo handed him. His
throat felt so tight he didn’t think he could swallow a bite. Kate
touched his hand, and he was grateful for it. Someone here cared
about him. Even if she pretended not to.

Rinaldo took the seat at the head of the
table, on Enrico’s left. “Well, my son, it is true. My heart is no
stronger, and I have had three bypasses. The doctors say I have
another year or two. But that is all.”

“Papà, I hate to hear you say that.”

“You should never be afraid of the
truth.”

Enrico almost smiled. That was his whole
problem, wasn’t it? Not owning up to who he was, what he’d done.
Hiding.

“So what brings you here?” Rinaldo glanced at
Kate, then back at Enrico. “Certainly it is not merely to show off
your latest acquisition.”

He took a breath, steadying himself not to
take the bait. “I am here because I wanted to see you. How you
were.”

“I’m alive. What more is there to say?”

Plenty. And we never say it.
Enrico
shoved away the plate in front of him and turned so he was fully
facing his father. “Why did all the love in you die with them? Did
I
never
occupy any space in your heart?”

Rinaldo looked startled for a moment, then
his face closed up. “You have not lost what I have lost.”

“I lost my mother, my brothers. And like you,
I have lost a wife.” He paused. “But my heart has not died like
yours.” He reached out blindly, finding Kate’s hand and squeezing
it, his eyes not leaving his father’s face.

Rinaldo shook his head. “Maybe had I not
suffered it all in one blow, maybe had I not buried two sons….” He
looked down at the table, then back at Enrico. “I am sorry,
mio
figlio
. I have nothing left for you. For anyone.”

“Is it because I have disappointed you?” He
had to know. “I know I am not Primo, I know I was not your first
choice to take over.”

“You avenged them, when I couldn’t. How could
I be disappointed in you?” Rinaldo’s eyes watered. “If I had
anything left, I would give it to you.”

“You would?”

A tear rolled down his father’s cheek. “How
can you doubt it?” He wiped at his face.

Grief welled up in Enrico, and he couldn’t
hold back his own tears. “Papà,” he said, choking on the word.
Before he could stop himself, he threw his arms around his father,
hugging him hard. He was starting to let go, when Rinaldo’s arms
encircled him, pulling him close. Warmth spread through his chest,
overpowering his grief.

It was as close as his father had ever come
to telling him he loved him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

After a few moments, Rinaldo released him,
patting him on the back. “We should eat. My ziti is getting
cold.”

Enrico glanced at Kate and saw the glitter of
tears in her eyes. He should be embarrassed she’d seen this, but
strangely he wasn’t. He wanted her to know everything about him,
including this.

They started to eat. “It’s very good,” Kate
said.

Rinaldo chuckled. “It is all I know how to
make. I should be good at it by now.” He turned to Enrico. “When
will you be married?”

Enrico heard Kate’s fork hit her plate, but
he didn’t look at her. “Soon, I hope.” She kicked him under the
table. It was true. He wouldn’t take it back.

Rinaldo addressed Kate. “I wish you good
fortune. You will need it with my son.” He gave her a half smile,
his eyes taking on the barest glint.

“You are right about that.” She smiled.

He gave Enrico a fond look. “We Lucchesis
have always found trouble. Even in the stillest pond.”

“That might be because you are the most
stubborn, pigheaded, self-righteous men on the planet,” Kate
said.

Enrico snorted with laughter. His father
grinned, then started to laugh. For a moment, he looked like the
man Enrico remembered. For a moment, he looked happy. Enrico gave
Kate a grateful smile, his heart full of love for her. If only she
could wait, he’d make everything right.

Enrico surprised Kate again by still wanting
to drive back to the lake. She’d thought he’d want to return by
plane, so he wouldn’t have to spend so much time with her. But he’d
seemed oddly cheerful when they returned to their room. When she
asked him why, he said she would eventually understand.

Neither of them slept much that night. Enrico
took the sofa, and Kate found herself feeling alone even though he
was in the same room. Several times she stopped herself on the
verge of asking him to join her. She’d already led him on once. She
couldn’t do it again. And he wasn’t the only one she’d hurt. She
hadn’t ever ached like this over a man. Not even Vince.