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“I understand you feeling that way, but in your sister’s absence, you can talk to me.” Celestina patted the table, encouraging Isotta to return so they could talk. Isotta stood resolute, unmoved by her mother’s gesture.
“Let’s talk about it. I want to help,” Celestina offered.
“No thanks,” Isotta replied.
“Are you sure? Whatever it is, whatever he has done, it might help to share.”
“No, it won’t help to share, not with you. Remember, Mother, you are part of the reason why I’m married to that stranger.”
“I thought it was best,” Celestina sighed.
“Best for who? Certainly not me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Celestina said from a heartfelt place.
“If you can’t help me find Valentina, then I’ll be going.”
“Don’t leave, Isotta, not like this.”
“There’s no other way to leave.”
“Well, look who came to see us,” Costanza said smilingly as she entered the room.
But Isotta didn’t return a smile.
“I have to go.” Isotta brushed past her grandmother as she exited the room. Constanza was shocked by her granddaughter’s actions, and her eyes followed Isotta until she was out of sight.
“Hmm,” Costanza hummed. “Interesting.”
Chapter Ten
Isotta lay in his bed in the dark.
That’s where she had been since she returned home from her parent's house. All she could manage was to get to the bedroom, undress, pull on her gown, make sure to have panties underneath, and climb into the bed. That’s all she had the strength, the wherewithal to do. Isotta was beyond flustered. She didn’t cry. She couldn’t. She couldn’t form tears because she was so exacerbated by everything that was happening to her. So, she resigned herself to the corner of the bed. She hoped sleep would come, but even if it didn’t, Isotta had no intention of abandoning the notion. Sleep would come, eventually.
It was late when Massimo made it home. He wasn’t surprised to find Isotta in bed. After he entered the room and noticed that it was dark and Isotta was not responding to his entrance, Massimo made his way into the master bath that was connected to his private closet. Typically, she’d wait up for him, but given their last interaction, Massimo understood why she didn’t. Initially, Massimo didn’t see what the problem was. Her wifely duty was to please him without exception or excuse. But just maybe, he had pushed too hard. Maybe she wasn’t ready for what he needed, not in the way he needed it. Massimo shook his head. As he undressed, taking off the trappings of the day, he had mixed emotions, but it didn’t matter how he felt. What mattered was how Isotta felt.
Massimo walked over to the basin and turned on the faucet. If he was going to pull off an apology that he really didn’t believe he needed to make, he needed to take a moment to try to work out the words in his head. He waited until the water was warm to splash it on his face. His brow wrinkled. Massimo hadn’t paid attention before. He was still running on pure adrenaline from the ass-kicking he had disseminated earlier. He realized after the water touched it that his hand was bruised, his knuckles swollen and discolored.
“Shit,” Massimo uttered as his hand started to sting. He shook it vigorously and then grabbed the drying towel and dabbed his face before pressing the towel against his hand, trying to stave off the throbbing. Momentarily satisfied, Massimo turned off the water and made his way to his closet. He found pajama bottoms to put on. He stepped out of the closet and grabbed the items he’d sat down the moment he entered their bedroom. He drew a deep breath as he started toward the bed and forced himself to smile. Whether he believed it or not, whether he thought it was warranted or not, Massimo was prepared to apologize. He eased in on his side of the bed and leaned in to see if, indeed, Isotta was sleeping.
“Isotta,” he whispered, trying to draw her from slumber.
But Isotta wasn’t asleep. She just had her eyes closed. When he called her name, Isotta didn’t open her eyes; instead, she turned over and gave him her back address. All those unresolved feelings of anger and belittlement returned, and she frowned as she pulled the cover up even higher, balling her fists in the folds.
“Isotta,” Massimo uttered again, daring to reach for her.
But Isotta was not moved by the softness of his voice. For all she knew, he wanted her to perform again, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. She wouldn’t, no matter how much Massimo insisted.
“Come on, Isotta. I have something for you.” He said, trying to coax her into complying.
“Leave me alone, Massimo. I’m tired,” she fussed, tucking under the cover even more.
She hadn’t rejected him in the past. She’d always been compliant even when she didn’t want to be.
Massimo was not dissuaded. Once he made up his mind, he stuck with it. Now more than ever, Massimo felt the need to make things right, even if it was just for her sake, to keep the peace or initiate it, whatever the case may be.
He closed his hand around her shoulder after moving the covers back and pulled her over. Massimo knew that such a strong action was risky, but he was willing to take the risk. Her body moved in his direction, but she kept her head turned away from him. Isotta couldn’t look at him without her true feelings showing.
