Page 37 of The Bonventi Secret
A wave of guilt comes over me, but it’s pushed out by the tremendous curiosity.
I have to read this.
The first page is blank except for a date:
September 15.
I turn to the next page and read over the first sentence.
Fuck, it’s all in Italian.
I pull out my phone, open the translation app, and snap a picture.
The ink is smudged in places, but I can still make out most of the words to translate:
"Today, I buried my brother," the entry begins. "The war may be over, but it still haunts us. Marco died not on some foreign battlefield, but here in Chicago, a victim of a rival family’s ambitions. God help me."
Wait, Enzo’s brother is named Marco? Maybe he’s named after his great uncle?
I’m so engrossed in the diary that I don’t hear the footsteps approaching until it’s too late.
The library door swings open, and I drop the diary into my lap, reaching for some papers—anything to fill my hands with. Panic seizes me, but I try to act normal.
Enzo strides in, his eyes immediately landing on me.
"Livia," he says, his voice smooth. "I figured you’d be in here at this hour."
My heart stops. The diary feels like it's burning a hole in my lap. I swallow hard, hoping my guilt isn't written all over my face.
LIVIA - 13
"Yes," I say, forcing out a laugh. "I, uh, I was just doing some research," I stammer, cursing myself for the nervous tremor in my voice.
Enzo’s gaze hones in on me, and for a moment, I’m certain he knows exactly what I’ve been up to, but then his expression softens, and he moves closer.
"Sorry I missed dinner," he says. "Business."
I nod, my fingers gripping the papers tightly. "It’s fine. I understand."
Enzo studies me for a long moment, I can tell he's taking me in. I fight the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. There’s a tension between us as our eyes remain locked on one another and I start to feel warmth spreading through me.
"You work too hard, cara mia," he says in a low tone and leans against the desk, "why don't you let me take care of you?
The warmth turns to fire and I find myself unable to speak. I may have have lost myself in his words had it not been the sudden reminder that I have the damn diary in my lap.
"Oh, no, I, I like the hard work. I made good progress on my dissertation," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
Enzo nods and smiles. "Well, that's good. I hope you weren't too lonely without me for dinner. I’ll make sure it doesn't become a habit."
I swallow hard. "Oh, it’s fine. I ate fast anyhow. Busy with my work, as you can see," I say, gesturing to the messy surface of the desk.
That was a lie.
I hadn’t thought about it since returning to my desk. I didn’t miss him, per se, but someone to talk to while I ate.
Shit, another lie. Okay, maybe I missed him a little, but that’s just because he shows so much interest in what I’m doing.
Enzo gives my desk and me another look over. "Well, I’m heading to bed. Care to join me?"
