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Isotta felt relief, and she allowed it to show on her face temporarily, but then the scowl returned as she waited to see what else her grandmother would say. When Constanza was quiet too long, Isotta spoke.
“When is she coming home?” She asked, articulating each word individually and separately so that her question was clear.
“Soon,” Constanza replied.
“That answer is not good enough, grandmother,” Isotta shot back. “When? How soon will my sister be home?”
Constanza could tell her granddaughter was serious. She could pull her authoritarian card, but once again, she thought better of it. Constanza breathed out loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear.
“We will have her home within the next twenty-four hours. Is that sufficient, Isotta?”
Isotta methodically padded over to where Constanza sat, and she leaned over, bringing her grandmother’s gaze so close that Isotta would have ordinarily felt like Constanza’s eyes bore through her. But this was not an ordinary situation, and Constanza knew it. When Isotta reached out and grabbed her grandmother underneath her collar, choking her tight, Francesco and Celestina alerted, scooting to the edges of their chairs. Constanza had no choice but to gasp, but neither of them stood up or interfered.
“It will be when I see my sister back where she belongs.” Isotta tightened the grip she had on the collar. Ordinarily, she would have never done such a thing, but she was past that now.
“By tomorrow,” Isotta insisted. “You don’t want to disappoint me to see what will happen if she doesn’t come home.”
Only after Isotta was satisfied that her message was clear did she stand upright and smoothed out her grandmother’s collar. Isotta turned and walked away.
She’d spoken.
Chapter Twenty-One
He counted down the hours. Time moved slowly like sand drizzling through an hourglass turned on its side. The sand barely moved, then not at all. That’s how Massimo felt after he spoke to Isotta, and he agreed to put off confirmation of her return to him until the next day. Time felt like it stood still. The darkness was the longest time of all. It felt like an eternity before the sun rose the next day, the day Massimo expected to get an answer. He lay awake the entire night, unable to sleep, thinking about his wife. Massimo’s feelings vacillated between impatience and vengeance when he thought about what she’d put him through; the emotional rollercoaster of when she was captured, the sullying and staining of her body, and the disrespect she dared showed Massimo after he saved her ass.
Massimo’s hands tightened into fists as he thought about her. He was frustrated by her to the point that he wanted to punish her and reassert himself as the authority in her life. That’s the place and position Isotta needed to understand and never question. Massimo stayed in that place with that mindset for the longest time. He found it difficult to shake as his fists tightened even more. Massimo’s mind tried to focus on Alessandro taking his wife for punishing pleasure, yet he refused to allow his thoughts to linger there. He’d spent mental time in that place, which proved counterproductive. Massimo refused to spend any more time there, no matter how much his body yearned for it.
Another thought infiltrated Massimo's mind as the sun crested in the sky, shining brightly even behind thick clouds. The thought tried to take over and dominate, but Massimo refused to acknowledge it. He’d rather focus on the thought that pissed him off. Yet, he’d grown tired of pacing. His fists were still active and agitated. Massimo thought he’d put that energy to productive use. He showered, dressed, and found Giuseppe.
“Ricardo, I need to see him one last time.”
“One last time?” Giuseppe repeated, his brows knocking together in confusion.
“One last time,” Massimo repeated, eying Giuseppe.
“I’ll have him brought to you,” Giuseppe advised.
“No, I will go to him,” Massimo defied.
Giuseppe thought about trying to reason with his brother and determine what his motivation was for his present anger. But as he looked at his brother, Giuseppe thought better of it.
“He’s at the spot by the pier.”
Massimo got what he needed. By the time he made it to the car, Massimo had guards with him. His blood pressure continued rising as he went to the pier. Massimo didn’t need to say anything to the guards he had with him. They understood what was expected. They arrived at the pier, and Massimo was escorted in. The guards found Ricardo as he was still barely mobile from his previous injuries. Massimo didn’t care about that. He wanted the fiasco that was Ricardo to come to an end.
Ricardo felt Massimo’s impending presence even before he saw him. A part of Ricardo had accepted his demise, even wished for it, but now that Ricardo was on the cusp of just such an end, he wasn’t as confident that he would go quietly into that good night. Massimo saw him. His temper rose even further. By the time Massimo reached Ricardo, his thirst for blood was unquenchable. It didn’t matter that Ricardo’s eyes grew large and his heart pounded in his chest. Massimo beat Ricardo mercilessly despite Ricardo wincing, groaning, and crying out in pain. Massimo was on a mission to work out his frustrations and aggravations. He wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. Despite the fact that Massimo had recently regained his strength, he expelled it without holding back, tapping into it as though there was an endless supply of machismo. When his arms were completely fatigued and sweat dotted his brow, Massimo reached into the holster of one of the guards and shot Ricardo point blank in the head.
Once Massimo was back in the vehicle, he was partially satisfied but not completely. Full satisfaction would not happen until Isotta was back with him at home.
The phone rang, and Giuseppe was advised the call was for him.
“This is Giuseppe.”
“Luciano Barbieri here.”
“What have you learned?” Giuseppe asked.
“We just received word that Valentina will be returned home within the next twenty-four hours.”
