Page 53 of The One
I run my fingers over the engraved horses, one a lighter color than the other. They seem to run playfully together, their forms dancing across the wood as if caught in a moment of joy.
I can almost hear the soft thuds of their hooves against the earth, the wind rustling through their manes, embodying the spirit of freedom and adventure that has never been a reality for me.
This guitar is perfection!
And I haven’t even played it yet. But it’s got to sound good. It couldn’t be anything less.
Tears roll down my cheeks now.
I feel understood, seen, perhaps for the first time in my life.
Chapter Nineteen
Mateo
Isit on the grass, leaning against a tree. It’s late and after the day I’ve had, I should soak my bones in the jacuzzi, letting the heat and jets work out the tension. But here I am, on the hard ground near the old oak, waiting.
This is ridiculous.
If Rom ever found out, he’d never let me live it down. But I can’t shake the yearning to hear Mariella play again, and to let that precious peace and calm wash over me like it did the first time.
That music of hers… her voice. It does something to me.
It seems to fill a void inside me and quiet the chaos. I could use that right now.
Will she show, though?
I close my eyes, my ears pricked for the slightest sound around me. But other than the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of old branches in the breeze, there’s nothing. The distant hoot of an owl echoes through the garden, and every so often, I hear the faint scurry of small creatures in the underbrush.
My mind drifts to today’s events, especially Antonio making up an excuse to see his daughter.
How furious must he still be to defy a direct order like that?
My anger about him hitting her resurfaces. I should’ve given him a taste of his own medicine. My hands ball into fists, and I force myself to take a deep breath, willing them to relax.
I didn’t want to leave her this morning. I wanted to stay, to make sure she was alright and properly taken care of. But when Rom appeared in the kitchen, it was my cue to go. Still, I caught myself trying to think of any reason to linger and spend just a few more minutes with her.
But that would’ve led to questions I don’t have answers for. It was far easier to focus on business.
Antonio’s intel on Antonelli exposed more men secretly aligning with the soldiers we inherited from our rivals, a mutiny brewing under our noses.
But not anymore. We snuffed it out and made examples of them. But four entire families are gone. I hate it. And the question still burns. Will it be enough to deter others?
I sigh, remembering the carefree fun Rom and I had just a few weeks ago. It feels like a distant memory now.
Finally, the stillness of the night is broken by the soft crunch of petite footsteps on the pebbles lining part of the garden. They serve as a firebreak, but my grandfather had a different reason for placing them there. No one can walk on them unheard.
Then comes the faint rustling of fall leaves beneath her feet.
I remain completely still, not wanting to be detected, and open my eyes. I watch the slender silhouette I’ve been waiting for make her way toward the old oak.
The moonlight is enough to guide her steps, casting a soft glow along her path. As she reaches the tree, the small solar lights I had the gardener place around the trunk this afternoon flicker on, illuminating her face just enough for me to catch a glimpse.
She smiles. It’s easily the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It lights up her whole face as she sits down on the cushion I’d placed there for her.
I can’t help but smile too, her joy infectious even from a distance.
She looks around, as if searching for something, or perhaps someone.
