Confessions of an Italian Marriage Page 13

  “No, it appears you built a lot of it by preying on other people’s trust.” She sent a critical glance at Everett and the house as she picked up her coffee and sipped.

  “Giovanni assured me that you wouldn’t expose our classified activities. Yesterday’s video broke the internet so we have a lot of explaining ahead of us. Can we count on you?”

  “I don’t know. Let me check with my handlers in Pyongyang.”

  “Bidduzza.” Giovanni took her hand and gave it an admonishing squeeze. “How many people did you tell that you believed I was alive?”

  “Just Nels. And I only asked if he thought it was worth my hiring a private investigator to look into whether you could be alive, since I’d been given ashes and a death certificate, but hadn’t seen your body. He said I was having trouble accepting my loss.”

  “Did you tell him or anyone else that the ring had been stolen?”

  “No. They would have said I misplaced it since the rest of the jewelry was still there. But it made me wonder why you’d gone into hiding. For instance, if you were in financial trouble, you would have stolen the jewels to square off with your creditors. If you were being chased by the law, you would have made a better effort to take money with you, not leave so much to me.”

  She glanced at the house again, perhaps rightly deducing that he had as much money off the books as he did on. He had plans to donate this and other properties like it to amputees and other charities. He wasn’t a tax dodger, but he could clarify that another time.

  “It felt a lot like you were hiding from me, especially after we had that awful fight, but it seemed a pretty drastic way to end things.” The line of her mouth wavered and her brow crinkled. “The most logical conclusion was that you disappeared to protect your life, in which case it made sense to act as though I believed you were dead. Getting engaged seemed to reinforce that illusion and since Nels was willing to take over your business interests and I happen to trust him, he made a good choice.”

  Giovanni had taken one look at the engagement announcement and had nearly thrown himself off this veranda. Not once had it occurred to him that she’d done it out of concern for him.

  “Also, I thought if I made this production of a marriage, you would either show up or you wouldn’t.” Her mouth pursed in dismay. “At least I would know where we stood.”

  “And I’m the fool for thinking she had the capacity to be an operative?” Everett scoffed. “Freja, darling, how would you like an extremely well-paying career that provides ample opportunity for travel? Because I know people who would love to meet you.”

  “Don’t. You. Dare,” Giovanni said from between his teeth.

  “But she could be so helpful when she goes back to North Korea,” Everett said. “Does he know you’ve been looking into that?”

  Giovanni’s heart stopped. “No, he does not know that. What the hell, Freja?”

  “You’re worried about whether you can trust me?” she asked Everett, splaying an outraged hand on her chest.

  “I’m going to get more coffee.” Everett rose. “Nels is gay, by the way.” He patted Giovanni’s shoulder. “Deep in the closet, but super gay.”

  “What a horrible person! I know it was you who stole the ring. I can tell by your cologne,” she called to Everett’s retreating back, looking at the chair he’d vacated and left askew. “And the fact you didn’t push the chair in at the desk.”

  Everett was gone and she sat back with a disgruntled look.

  “Are you out of your mind? You’re not going back to North Korea.” Giovanni’s riches could accomplish many things, but he doubted he could get her out of there again. Not without costs that were higher than monetary ones. “Just because you were treated well the first time does not mean they would roll out the red carpet if you returned. For God’s sake, Freja! At best you’d wind up in a work camp.”

  “I didn’t have you, I didn’t have our baby. Sung-mi and Byung-woo are the only family I have left. Don’t judge me for wanting to see them.”

  “I don’t. But you have me now.”

  She flinched and looked to the far side of the valley, profile troubled.

  Time, he thought with frustration. They had never had it, they needed it now, and he didn’t want to wait. He wanted everything put right between them. Now.

  “Everett might be able to call in some favors and make some inquiries. He’s worth having on your side.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me to keep my mouth shut? I won’t say a thing about you and your dumb spy games. You don’t have to threaten Sung-mi and Nels, either.”

  “That’s not what this is.”

  “Sure,” she said flatly, clearly disbelieving him, but Everett came back and they talked about what they would say at the press conference.

  * * *

  Freja didn’t bother packing. She had clothes in all of Giovanni’s residences including the penthouse in Rome, which was where they went.

  All his residential staff had been instructed to close up and go down to skeletal once she’d gone back to New York. It had felt so strange to return to America. She hadn’t been away that long, but she’d been a completely different person and was again as they returned to the last place they’d been together. She saw everything with fresh eyes.

  The place had been kept up, of course. The plants were healthy and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. The housekeeper was busy restocking the kitchen, smiling cheerfully, though wide-eyed with astonishment that her employer was alive.

  But the top-level security and tinted windows and soundproof doors weren’t just protecting Giovanni’s wealth or privacy, Freja realized now. The quick escape routes via helicopter or the manually controlled service elevator weren’t just for fire safety.

  Giovanni made a call to his barber, who appeared with a flush on his cheeks as though he’d run the whole way.

  While they disappeared to make him presentable, she dug into her closet for one of her couture day dresses, choosing a three-quarter-length shirtdress. Its navy color was brightened by small white polka dots and a crisp white collar and cuffs. She kept the look simple, using a straightening iron on her hair before tying it back with a navy ribbon. She finished her light makeup with a soft pink gloss.

  When she returned to the lounge, Everett was there, nursing a drink.

  “I thought you were talking with Giovanni,” she said, trying to explain away her dismayed double take when she saw him.

  “No need. He and I have always been on the same page—for the most part.” He sipped, watching her over his glass. “Were you on your way out?”

  “No.” Had she thought about it? Absolutely. Giovanni had been right when he had said they had a habit of running too fast. Too hot. Too hard. The way she had burst into flames under his touch this morning was completely typical.

  The temptation to let that familiar urgency sweep her up and carry her away was strong, but she didn’t know if she dared set herself up for another heartbreak, not after the first one had nearly destroyed her. She definitely didn’t know how to trust that it wouldn’t happen again.

  “No?” Everett needled, as if he read all her misgivings clear as a neon sign. As if her desire to stay or go was any of his business.

  “Is that why you’re sitting here?” she asked crossly, making an unnecessary adjustment to a throw that was already draped perfectly over the back of the sofa. “Are you guarding me in case I decide to bolt?”

  “Yes.”

  His frankness startled her, but she only muttered, “Well, isn’t that just like Giovanni to ask for my trust, but not offer any in return.”

  “He didn’t ask me to do this. I thought of it all by myself.”

  “The nineties called. They said the cold war is over and the KGB is a pop band now.”

  “I’m starting to see the attraction.” Everett drained his glass and set
it aside. “Giovanni is a man of principle and duty and tremendous loyalty, so he did everything he could to honor the commitments he had made to the job we were doing, but from the moment he met you, his priorities were impacted. I didn’t understand it, but I knew from your first night together that I was losing him to you.”

  “So you stole him back? How mean-girl of you.” She clasped her elbows as she moved to the windows and looked out on the view across the rooftops to the Colosseum and the Roman Forum.

  “If only it was that easy. I genuinely thought you might have had something to do with that explosion. He was beside himself, though. If he hadn’t been in traction, he would have crawled out of the hospital to go to you. The stubborn bastard wouldn’t even speak to me until I got that ring back onto his finger. The only reason he stayed in hiding was for your safety. When I had to tell him you’d lost the baby... Let’s just say it was a very bad day.”

  “And yet he didn’t come,” she said with lingering anguish tightening her throat.

  “Has he told you anything of what we’ve been doing?” Impatience edged into his tone.

  “He told me it was more important than I am.” She clung to her sharp elbows. “Maybe it was. It doesn’t make any of these lies easier to bear.”

  “So you’re going to punish him for it? Leave him because of it? You’ll destroy him, Freja. You have that power. Do you understand that? Your engagement to Nels—”

  “Everett.” Giovanni spoke in a quiet voice that was so lethal, Freja’s heart clunked with alarm in her chest.

  His clean shave and fresh haircut left Giovanni so imperially handsome, a stab of emotion hit her eyes. Attraction soared into her blood along with joy at his mere existence here and pride that such a gorgeous man could be called hers. Her husband.

  If she dared to give him another chance.

  “You are no longer part of this marriage,” he said to Everett. “Never interfere between me and Freja again. Do you understand?”

  Everett threw up his hands. “I’ll be gone after the press conference.”

  How long would she be here? That was the decision she had to make, Freja realized with a pang of distress.

  “You look lovely,” Giovanni said with an appreciative slip of his gaze down to her navy pumps and back. “Perfect.”

  “You look nice, too,” she murmured, still experiencing the pull of physical allure he always exerted over her. “Are we holding it downstairs? Or...?”

  “Yes. My collar is wet so I’ll change my shirt.” He spoke in a distracted tone, rolling forward as he did. He picked up one of the hands she was trying to untangle from the other. “Where is your wedding band?”

  “New York. This was in the safe and seemed a better choice than the engagement ring. It’s your mother’s anniversary ring.”

  “I know.” He turned the white-gold eternity band encrusted with baguette-cut diamonds.

  “If you don’t want me to wear it—”

  “I do. It’s a good choice. Thank you.”

  His gaze was a depthless quicksilver pool that she could have fallen into, but Everett cleared his throat.

  “The sooner we do our thing, the sooner I’ll be gone.”

  Giovanni’s mouth twitched wryly. He dropped his hands to his wheels.

  “Giovanni,” she said, forcing him to pivot to face her. She drew a breath that burned like the arid winds off a million miles of desert, but a bubble of something big and optimistic filled her throat. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FREJA STOOD AMID the blinding camera lights and flashes, one hand on Giovanni’s shoulder as he and Everett balanced on the razor’s edge between truth and fabrication, never mentioning their extracurricular activities. They claimed Freja’s very public engagement had been a ruse to support Giovanni’s supposed “accident” and passed off these horrendous few months as an elaborate plan by an eccentric billionaire to thwart a death threat while the culprits were hunted down.

  Thankfully, it was over quickly. Everett took his leave and Freja didn’t realize Giovanni had pushed the button for the rooftop until the doors opened at the helicopter pad.

  “We’re not staying here? This is just like you, springing a flight on me out of the blue!” She gave a frantic wave of her hand. “Nothing in our calendar, just, ‘Get in and shut up.’ You’re worse than my father when it comes to moving along on the spur of the moment. At least he gave me time to pack.”

  “Everett had your things retrieved from Milan.” Giovanni pointed to her distinctive, monogrammed luggage going into the cargo area. “And I just said in the press conference that we would be spending time at home for the next week or two. Where do you think my home is, Freja?”

  “I don’t know! You have a dozen of them.”

  “Sicily.” He was taking a tone as if all of this was obvious. “We’re going to my villa on my family estate. I can’t leave the country until Everett has me sufficiently resuscitated for bureaucrats to issue a new passport.”

  “Oh. I knew there was a villa there. I didn’t know you thought of it as ‘home.’ Why didn’t you take me there before?”

  “I was working,” he said with his don’t ask shuttered expression that always hit her with the force of a wrecking ball.

  Her heart shrank and her skin grew too tight as she climbed aboard and buckled in.

  Giovanni came in and anchored his chair, releasing a frustrated sigh as he did. “There are things I will never be able to talk about, Freja. You will have to accept that.”

  She tried to shake it off with a small shrug, keeping her profile turned to the window.

  They were served a light meal as they flew. She choked it down, but the pilaf tasted like glue and the silence stuck in her ears.

  They landed behind a villa that sprawled atop a hillock overlooking a sweeping slope to the sea. Everything was bathed in a fading mauve light while the setting sun painted a red line against the horizon.

  “This is beautiful,” she couldn’t help saying as they moved along a paved path flanked by shrubs strung with fairy lights. The air was balmy and feather-soft, flavored by the mature orange grove and the earthy scents of the surrounding vineyards. “The house looks quite new, though.”

  “It is.” He veered down a paved path to a bricked area surrounding the pool. Quite a ways down the slope, off to the left, stood a shoe-shaped house. Its gray stones were lit by floodlights buried within its surrounding gardens. “That’s where I was born. Where we would come in the summer and Christmas, when my father wasn’t dragging us elsewhere for work. It’s regarded as a heritage site so I couldn’t remodel it to accommodate my chair, not without destroying its character.”

  “That’s—” Incredibly sad. She’d always envied people who knew where their home was, but to be able to see it and not be able to enter? “It looks occupied.”

  “Staff use it.” He pivoted and leaned into pushing himself up an incline that skirted the pool’s blue glow, leading her to an open double-door entrance.

  His housekeeper greeted him with teary warmth and welcomed Freja with belated congratulations on their marriage. Since they’d just eaten, they said they would dine later, after they’d had time to settle in and relax.

  Like all of Giovanni’s homes, this one was scrupulously tailored to his chair, with a full contingent of people ready to look after his every need. The decor was simple and soothing and sumptuously comfortable, encouraging relaxation. The huge estate was fenced and security patrolled, he informed her when she expressed concern for the open doors.

  “This isn’t New York. The cat burglars are actual cats from the vineyard looking for a morsel or a scratch between the ears.”

  Her suitcases were already in the master bedroom when they got there, but there was a small selection of clothing in the closet, too.

  “I’ve never seen these,”
she murmured as she fingered through bohemian skirts and sleeveless knit tops. “When did you order them?”

  “Sent from Milan after one of your initial fittings, I imagine. I expected we would make it here eventually.”

  “They’re so casual.” Comfortable and relaxing.

  “Even when I have social commitments here, they’re low-key events. We dress down for dinner.” He showed her the shorts and collared T-shirt he retrieved from a drawer.

  The tension that had been gripping her for ages began to release. She stepped out of her spiked pumps and tugged a crinkled cotton peasant dress from a hanger.

  “I thought you might have come here after...” He didn’t finish, but she knew he was referring to his own funeral. “Why did you go back to New York? Why did you buy your own place there?”

  Because she hadn’t been able to face any reminders of him.

  “So many people were asking about the business. It seemed more convenient to be there, especially once I asked Nels for help. He wanted to include me in the decisions he was making. And this... Your life, being your wife. It seemed like it hadn’t really happened. I hadn’t been Signora Catalano long enough to know how to pull it off. It was easier to go back to where I’d put my life on track twice before.”

  But had she? Oliver’s townhome hadn’t been her life. Nor had university. Haring off to Europe with Giovanni hadn’t offered the sort of stability and purpose she had longed for. What sort of life did she even want to pursue?

  “We could make this our home from now on. I’ll still have travel demands, but not nearly so many.” He followed her out of the closet.

  She sat down on the end of the bed, crumpling the dress onto her knees, lips parted as she tried to think of how to respond.

  “Don’t say you don’t want that,” he commanded gruffly. Maybe it was a plea. His voice was low and held strain, as though he was speaking while having a bullet removed from his chest. “We could try again for a family, Freja.”