Page 48 of Enzo's Vow
I itched to see the theme park and squinted out the window. We traveled a long way from home, perhaps the longest trip we’d ever taken. No rollercoaster, or Ferris wheel yet. A nervous flutter tickled my stomach.
Mamma said we’d go to a theme park to celebrate my birthday. I guess this meant she was no longer mad at me. She hadn’t looked at me since I shot the scary man, and she hadn’t talked about it since coming home from the hospital. She’d battled a long recovery, and the nanny cared for us while she’d remained in the hospital. I didn’t think Mamma wanted to celebrate my birthday because ever since she’d arrived home, she cried nonstop. I think she missed Papa.
She indicated a right down a street onto a wide, dirt path. I bit my lip and slapped the dashboard. No rollercoaster or Ferris wheel, but Mamma always kept her promises.
The sign above the black gate read ‘Orphanage.’ Why stop here? Maybe she wanted to donate old clothes or something? The automatic black gate opened, and we drove onto the estate. The air grew colder, heavy with the scent of dust and something else... something like disinfectant and despair. She killed the engine outside a looming building, its many windows like cold, unblinking eyes.
Lucio’s laughter faded in the backseat. Now he stared out the window, face twisted and lower lip pouting. “This place isn’t fun.”
Mamma scowled, not glancing at either of us. “Mamma,” I whispered.Please look at me.
Several people marched out of the building, advancing toward our car. Their long dark robes matched the sudden gloom in my chest. Breath panted out of my lips in a panic.
“Look, ninjas!”
I shot a look back at my younger brother. His laughing smile vanished as one man cranked open his door and hauled him outside. “Mamma! Enzo!” he squealed through his tears.
“Ma!” I screamed, gripping and shaking her arm. “Help! They’ve taken Lucio.” It felt like I shook an unresponsive rag-doll. Her skin felt cold, distant. She paid me no heed, her face down in her lap, staring into another world.
Another man swung open my door. I kicked at his chest, my foot catching and snapping the long, wooden rosary resting against his torso. Brown beads exploded in all directions, some rolling over the car seat.
Others came to join him, their calloused grips pinning my arm and legs, dragging me out of the car. How could she just sit there, not even blinking?
I swallowed at the daunting building before me, the sound of crunched gravel beneath their marching feet a soundtrack of my doom. I squinted at the sad, tiny faces staring out the window from the top floor. Was this a prison for children? Could Mamma have handed me over after what I’d done?
“Ma!” I bellowed over my shoulder, my ears ringing from the piercing sound. I squirmed and wriggled, unable to break free.
She owned a gun. Why not stop them? I kicked and screamed the entire way to the entrance.
The purr of the engine straightened my spine.No. It can’t be. Glancing over my shoulder again, my gaze befell my worst fear. Mamma reversed, turning back onto the long driveway. “Mamma!” The lump in my throat threatened to choke me.How could she turn and go? “Don’t leave us here! Come back!” Sobs escaped with my desperate screams, determined to have her hear me. “I’m sorry!” My panic increased as she neared the black gate, leaving me trembling. “Please, Mamma,” my shout deflated to a whisper. “I’m sorry I killed the man,” my voice cracked. “I’ll be a good boy. Come back! Come back!”
My chest ached, a cold, empty space where hope used to live. Some memories refused to stay buried, their tendrils wrapping around my heart, threatening to drag me back into the darkness. The orphanage. The silence after the gate slammed shut. It shouldn’t matter. I was stronger now, in control. But as I stared into the amber liquid in my glass, I couldn’t shake the feeling of entrapment. Then, I took another drink.
Chapter 19
Gemma
A bitter taste coated my mouth. Guilt squeezed me like a vise. The cake was meant to convince him of my feelings, my escape ticket. How naive. I spun to the cake I slaved over in the kitchen, and then back to the doors Enzo had stormed out of. The doors still swung from his harsh exit, its creaking sound echoing a reminder of my folly. A sudden need to understand the man behind those swinging doors surged, and the escape plan dwindled. For the first time since I’d arrived at this house, he bared a side I’d never seen.
Lucio edged closer, his shoulders hunched as if recoiling from the tension in the room. “Don’t take it personally, Gemma.”
Enzo crumbled as if his entire world had collapsed… all over a birthday cake. I missed something here, something more, something deeper. “What happened, Lucio?” My voice softened, tinged with real concern.
He shrugged and breathed a long sigh, weariness etching its way onto his face. “If Enzo wants to, he’ll share.”
As if he would. From the start, he had been nothing but curt, giving me scraps of information to go by. Even if hedidn’twant to share—and God knows, he never shared—still, I wanted to be there for him. I darted out of the room and almost bumped into Carina. Her dire warning to Enzo on the night Franco attackedechoed in my mind, sending a chill crawling down my spine. I squared my shoulders, faking confidence.
She didn’t move, just planted her hands on her hips. “Care to explain why the rush?”
Had she already passed her son in his distraught state? No way would I tell her about the cake incident. I wanted to speak to Enzo without this woman’s judgmental eyes present. I used the one ace up my sleeve. “Lucio’s back from Lombardy. He’s in there.” I thumbed behind me, well aware she’d grown impatient to give her youngest son a lecture.Forgive me, Lucio. Deceptive, yes, but I had no other choice.
Carina bristled, her eyes flashing before slitting. Motherly concern? Doubtful. More like a desire to control the narrative. She stormed in the path of her youngest son. Good, now I continued in my search for Enzo undisturbed.
I found no sign of him in his bedroom and balcony, not on the alfresco or by the pool. Stumbling into the library, I struggled to catch my breath. Long legs peeked out behind the armchair. The thick Persian carpet muffled my footsteps as I crossed the room, catching hints of leather and old paper as I passed the table holding different crystal decanters and hovered beside him. A leaded glass lamp on the table cast a warm, multi-coloured glow across the bookshelves.
Enzo slumped on the carpet, nursing a drink. The air hung heavy with the sharp scent of whiskey. My heart sank at the miserable sight of his blank, bloodshot eyes. I really made a blunder. The Pandora’s box I’d opened couldn’t be shut now. This felt too personal, too deep, and I was useless here, no doubt adding to his turmoil. “I’ll leave you in peace,” I whispered, hoping he hadn’t heard me. My throat tightened. I wanted to console him, but a man like Enzo didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve and would rather be alone.
A firm grip captured my wrist just as I was about to retreat.
