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I reach into my pocket and pull two things out. “What’s this?” Jess asks.
“That’s a GPS tracker. Keep it on you and I can find you anywhere. That’s my credit card. Get yourself a sports car and travel in style until I get back. Book any hotel you like. With that tracker, I’ll find you wherever you are.”
“I want to come with you,” she says. “Please, let me make my own decisions, I’m begging you.”
“No,” I snap. “I know you miss Emma and you want to check on Mrs. Henderson. You can do that as soon as this is over.”
She nods, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, memorizing my face as if to hold onto it in my absence. “Be safe,” she murmurs, her voice laced with worry and something else I can’t read.
I nod, pulling away reluctantly, the finality of the moment hanging between us. I feel a trace of guilt. Her father is with Garibaldi, for reasons unknown. He could die. I might have no choice but to kill him. Should I tell her that?
I look into her eyes. She’s been through enough hurt for a lifetime. No more. I’ll tell her when I get back. Then, there’ll be no more secrets between us. No more enemies to fight.
“Lucas, Matteo,” I begin, my voice low but firm. “I’m entrusting you with the most important task of your lives.”
Lucas nods, his eyes steady. “We won’t let you down, boss. You have my word,” he asserts, his conviction clear.
Matteo, though quieter, speaks volumes with a simple, determined look. His scars, a visible reminder of his dedication, underscore his silent vow to protect.
“Keep her safe. Be ready for anything, and I mean anything. If Garibaldi’s men so much as breathe in her direction, I want to know immediately,” I command, the weight of my own words heavy on my chest.
Lucas steps forward, a slight bow of his head signifying his acceptance of the charge. “She’ll be as safe with us as she is with you. That’s a promise.”
Matteo, in his typical reserved manner, simply places a hand over his heart, his silent pledge echoing louder than any words could.
I take one last look at Jess, her fury still evident in her eyes. She turns away from me.
I leave without another word, wondering if I am the man she fears or the man she believes I can be.
SEVENTEEN
Jess
The roar of the sports car’s engine beneath me feels like a fierce cry for freedom, slicing through the quiet of the morning. I’m alone, Alessandro’s presence replaced by the hum of the engine and the open road ahead.
The guards tailing me in their dark, unmarked vehicle are a constant reminder of the world I’ve married into—a world where my choices seem fewer by the day.
The French countryside rushes by in a blur of greens and golds, each kilometer bringing me closer to the Bayeux Tapestry.
This journey, meant to be a simple tick off my bucket list, now feels like a pilgrimage, a search for clarity in the tangled mess of my emotions.
Alessandro’s silence since his departure weighs heavily on me. Each unanswered call and text adds another stone to the burden of doubt my father planted. His warning echoes in my mind, a constant, gnawing presence.
As I wander through the museum, absorbing the history woven into the tapestry, I’m struck by an unexpected loneliness.
Despite the beauty and the sense of accomplishment in finally being here, I can’t shake the feeling of emptiness without Alessandro by my side.
The Bayeux Tapestry unfolds before me like a storybook of war. It’s breathtaking and, in a strange way, familiar. The intricacy of the threads, the tales they tell of battles fought and won, of loyalties tested and sometimes broken, resonate with me more than I’d like to admit.
Matteo and Lucas, trailing a respectful distance behind, seem caught between their duty to guard and an unexpected interest in my solitary engagement with history.
I pause before a scene depicting a decisive battle, the figures woven with such precision and emotion that they seem almost alive. “You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” I say to them but they merely stare back at me. I roll my eyes.
“Two sides, both unwilling to back down,” I gesture towards the tapestry. “Remind you of anyone?”
Matteo frowns. “Alessandro never wanted this war,” he says. “But he’ll be the one to end it.”
Lucas clears his throat, a signal that he’s about to share more than he typically would. "The vendetta with Garibaldi. It’s personal.”
