Page 101 of Masked Hearts

“One day,” I say.

“Soon. One day soon,” he says.

His words hang in the air. So sure and full of confidence that I want to believe him. Every fibre in me wants to cling to those words and discard every other belief I have. But the nagging voice in my head won’t let me.

I try to stifle it back as dessert comes out and the yacht starts heading back to the port.

“What’s your favourite part of Tevici?” I ask. I’ve heard of the small island and its large history, especially the way it’s recently put itself on the map for being the Vitale city.

“Honestly, there are so many parts of it I love. I love our family home, especially our backyard where we have family dinners. I love the beach and the promenade where Ambrose and I jog. I love Giovanni’s and their sandwiches and espresso. It’s impossible to choose, especially when I miss home so much.” He clears his throat at the end of the sentence.

“How long has it been since you were home?” I ask.

For me, being away from home is a dream come true. But for someone as family orientated as Antonio, I can only imagine how difficult it must be.

“Just under a year. Our wedding was the closest thing I’ve had to being home, since home came to me.” He chuckles.

“I brought your home to you, and you got me away from mine. I think it’s a fair trade.” I offer him a lopsided smile since the mood isn’t exactly a happy one.

“You’ve become home,” he says so plainly, but when panic flashes through his eyes, I realise he probably didn’t mean to voice that thought.

“You’re the closest thing to home I’ve known for a long time, especially since my mom died. You’re the first person to stand up for me or to put what I want before what you do.”

He bites his lip, and it looks as if he’s fighting himself not to say something. The yacht comes to a stop, and it draws his attention away as he rubs a hand on his pants legs.

“Next surprise,” he says, motioning his head in the direction. Suddenly in view is the Eiffel Tower. During our conversation, I didn’t even realise the yacht was stopping in a different port.

“Come on, we have to hurry,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me to jog off the boat.

I’m a giggling mess as I try to keep up with his long strides as we race towards the tower, swerving through the locals who are strolling and staring at us as if we’ve lost our minds.

If only the media got a glimpse of this side of Antonio, the headlines would paint a very different picture. One less cold, less stoic. They’d tell the story of the hilarious, gorgeous, bubbly man I see when I look at him.

We’re both gasping for air by the time we arrive in front of the tower, and perfectly on cue, Antonio whips his phone out and points it at me just as the lights go on.

I spin around stunned by its beauty, thousands of lights flashing and twinkling.

“This is amazing,” I say, looking back at him with a broad smile. He’s staring at me through his phone, not even looking at the tower.

Just then, the sky cracks open and small drops of rain start falling. Antonio drops his phone, looks up to the sky, and chuckles.

“Come on, we should get inside,” I say, tugging on his hoodie sleeve as all the people around us start rushing off to find shelter.

“Just wait a minute,” he says, pulling me closer. His curls slowly flop into his eye as they become weighed down from the rain. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” He smiles broadly before cupping my cheeks and connecting our lips.

It’s slow and controlled, the way his lips move in perfect rhythm with mine. When his tongue swipes across my bottom lip, I completely forget about the rain or Paris; I forget about everything but Antonio Vitale.

I let him consume me and draw me in. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he smiles into the kiss. Next he’s chuckling and spinning me around in a circle.

“You are perfect, absolutely perfect.” He kisses me again. “Let’s get inside before you get sick,” he says. We rush over to some nearby restaurants that provide shelter over the sidewalks.

He’s laughing, and I mean really laughing. One that sounds like it comes from his belly. It’s one of the most beautiful sounds. He looks so attractive, even dripping wet.

For a moment I pull my gaze away from him, and that’s when I spot it. Right across the road is the restaurant. It still looks the same. The view of it alone has me frozen in place, and every single memory rips through me.

“Hey, are you okay?” Antonio places a hand on my shoulder before turning to look in the same direction as me. “Theá?”

“That was the restaurant where it happened.” It doesn’t even sound like my voice. It sounds far away and all too raspy. So raspy I don’t even know how I manage to speak. “This is where they killed my mom.”

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