Page 38 of I Would Die For You

My world is reducing to a pinprick, a spotlight closing in on her. She did say she couldn’t do this anymore earlier tonight. I’d thought they were words in passing. Never in my wildest nightmare did I imagine she’d act on them, and certainly not like this.

How badly did I fuck up? How do I unscrew this?

But everything inside me is telling me I can’t. There’s no going back now. Because once Kaya is safely back on US soil, she won’t be returning to Torino again.

It’s not even a triumph to see the Don being the one to escort her here—he’s letting her go, which means she won’t be his again. It’s a paltry victory, because it also only means one thing.

She won’t be mine again, either.

How do I live with this now?

Chapter 12 Kaya

Itravelledfirstclasswiththe family I was accompanying when I came to Torino. With two rambunctious kids to handle, it’d been hard to revel or even relish in the surroundings. I’d thought it was the epitome of luxe, especially coming from someone who’d never set foot on a plane before. I had my passport because the school went on a bus trip north to the Canadian side of the border once.

Yet, that flight had nothing on this one. Who knew people traveled in this kind of opulence? Even in movies, I’ve never seen such a luxurious jet, and I can’t believe I’m sitting in one as we’re taking off for the US.

When Don Giacomo came to find me a little over an hour ago, it hadn’t dawned what was really happening. Valentino and Stefano were going back to New Jersey, and I could tag along for the trip, could save the hundreds of dollars for a ticket. I didn’t have much to pack, so it didn’t take long. It sounded like the solution to all my woes—I wasn’t staying in Turin any longer than I had to now I had the money to start afresh, and Stefano and I had been through everything we needed to speak about.

Only more slow decaying death awaited us. None of us could live like that, with that…

I’m tempted to glance at him, two seats back, but I don’t. My gaze has snagged on Valentino sitting across the aisle from me, and it’s only now I realize I haven’t extended my condolences. But what will those words mean? Ultimately, Valentino has lost his father, and the strain on his features tells the world how much this loss is afflicting him. He’s a man of few words, I’ve come to find, though I’m sure he batted in my corner throughout the time Stefano and I have been together. Valentino has been a steadying influence on his more over-the-top cousin.

I can’t help it, I reach out across the aisle and touch the sleeve of his jacket. When he glances at me, his blue eyes are pained though a hint of a smile touches his lips and relieves the austere mask of severity on his carved features. We don’t need words; I smile a little, clench his arm tighter, then let go. With a nod of acknowledgement, he returns to his musings.

He must have a lot on his mind, starting with who murdered his dad. I don’t hold mine in great regard anymore, but even so, the idea of losing him slashes at my heart. What would it be like to lose a loved one?

Yet, this is indeed what I’m going through. Stefano is just a few paces behind me, but we could have the entire Atlantic Ocean between us. He makes no move to come speak to me, and the entire flight is spent like this. And maybe that’s for the best.

I doze on and off, then we’re landing, a motorcade of Cadillac Escalades is waiting for us, and I’m bundled into a car alone with the driver, Stefano going with his cousin. I suppose they’re going to the police station directly.

I’m taken to a big white house in an affluent part of New Jersey. I’d always thought the state was a brick and steel decrepit behemoth reminiscent of the world of Gotham in the Batman-verse. This is way more uber-richReal Housewives of Wherever.

It’s bustling with people inside, and a single glance tells me these areBorgatasoldiers. So Valentino is a hot shot in the East Coast Mafia world? I never would’ve guessed, given how he doesn’t lord it over others. And with his father dead, him being the eldest, he’s the one primed to take over.

I’m shown to a guest room by the housekeeper, a buxom older woman named Ina. The faint accent tells me she’s from Romania—I’ve met so many girls from Eastern Europe back in Torino, it’s easy to distinguish who’s from where now. Strange how there’s so much luggage in the space. Unless they think Stefano and I are together?

Exhaustion slams over me, and I fall on the bed, asleep within minutes. When I wake up, it’s dark outside, and it’s to find Stefano bundling a blanket and pillow in his arms.

“I’ll take the sofa,” he says quietly when he notices I’m awake.

Jet lag is doing a number on me, and when I next wake up, he’s not here. Hunger takes me downstairs, where Ina serves me breakfast, but it feels wrong to be waited on hand and foot, and I ask her to put me to task. The house is even fuller, with a lot of comings and goings now.

We all fall into this kind of rhythm for the next couple of days. Then it’s the funeral, and I’m standing under the shade of a tree at the cemetery, dressed in a demure knee-length black dress complete with pillbox hat and a small veil over my eyes. Turns out the luggage was mine, courtesy of Don Giacomo. He’d even had a funeral outfit packed for me.

One more thing I have to be grateful to him for, and one more reason I’m still sticking around. On the way to the airport, the Don looked out the window the entire time, though no one would ignore the weight of his words.

“Stefano will accompany you to your home.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“I insist.” He’d chuckled then. “He will insist, too. Once the funeral is over, he will take you back to Portland.”

Silence then stretched for a moment.

“Stefano,” he’d continued. “Even Valentino. They’re a new generation, boys who’ve been told it doesn’t make them a sissy to cry. Such permission is a liberation as much as it hides a sharp blade on the other side. It permits them to feel, but they also don’t know how to deal with this hurt. It leaves them bereft…unless they have a strong woman they can lean on, who they can rest with.”

I’d been dreading what he’d say next, and I wasn’t wrong.

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