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I took the sheet and set it aside.
“Prime Minister Amato is coming to Florence and has requested a private event at the art gallery…” His voice trailed off in hesitation, like whatever else he had to say was about to make my life complicated. “He’s requested both of you to be present. Because of the long-standing history between your families.”
I smirked. “I bet Dad didn’t like that.”
“He’s drafted up his terms for the event.”
“Let me guess. Stay at least fifty feet from him at all times, like a fucking restraining order.”
He opened the folder again and placed the court order signed by the judge in front of me. “Because of your criminal history, it was granted.”
I smirked again, but I was dead inside. “If only they knew…”
“Knew what?”
That I continued to keep both of them alive at the cost of my own happiness. “Nothing.”
Lorenzo continued. “You’re to stay at least fifty feet away from them?—”
“The venue isn’t even fifty feet wide.”
He paused as he considered that information then made a note on his paper. “They ask for no contact whatsoever. You do not speak to them, and they do not speak to you.”
“Fine.”
“If the prime minister invites you both into a conversation, you opt out.”
“Sure, whatever.”
He continued to read through the list, all the demands pretty much the same but worded differently. “They asked you to sign this.” He uncapped his pen and pushed the paper toward me.
I snatched it and scribbled my signature. “There you go.”
He left the check on the table, my portion of the earnings through the trust. “Goodbye, Mr. Moreau.”
I gave him a thumbs-up. “See you, Lorenzo.”
He left the parlor, and Aldo let him out.
I didn’t move from my armchair, ignoring the check that would take me weeks to deposit. Truth be told, I didn’t even care about the money, but if I allowed them to cut me out, I would have no connection to them at all.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there. My phone vibrated a couple times, but I didn’t dig it out of my pocket. Nothing seemed important right now, only sulking in my own misery.
“Aldo, have you seen Axel?” Scarlett’s distant voice came from far down the hallway. “He’s not texting me back, and he always texts me back.”
“I believe he’s in the parlor, Mrs. Moreau.”
“Oh…thank you.” Her footsteps were quiet, but they slowly became more pronounced, the thuds audible against the carpet. Then she rounded the corner and looked into the parlor, facing me head on.
It was just like the night she’d shown up to confront me. The rain hit the windows hard. The fire cast shadows in the corners. She’d been the one in a callous mood, but now I was the one who’d bottled my ferocity.
She slowly crept into the room, her eyes shifting back and forth as she absorbed my foul mood. She stopped next to the other chair, the one my lawyer had just occupied. Silence stretched for seconds as she looked at me. “Everything alright…?”
“I just received a restraining order from my parents.”
She didn’t say a word, but she somehow conveyed an entire conversation with her face, moving through shock, mild surprise, raw offense, and then lingering sadness. “Do you want to be alone?”
Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have spoken to anyone for days, bottling the moment and letting it poison my organs in silence. But there was something about Scarlett that made me feel differently, that made me want to pull her close rather than push her away. “No.”
She sat in the armchair across from me, her eyes dropping down to the copy of the court order. She stared at it for several seconds before she lifted her eyes and looked at me again. “All I ever say is sorry…but I don’t know what else to say.”
“Fuck them. You could say that.”
She smiled slightly.
I smiled back.
“You haven’t spoken to them, so this warning seems unnecessary.”
“Our art gallery is having a private event that requires us to both be there. So, they’re laying out the rules for my conduct.”
She glanced down again and saw the check there, a check for a lot of money, but she didn’t react to it. Her eyes lifted to mine again.
“I don’t need the money. I don’t want it. Sometimes I think about donating it just to piss them off, but where would that get me?”
She sat there and listened.
“But if I leave the trust, I have no connection to them. We’ll never see each other. We’ll never cross paths. It’ll become so easy to forget I ever existed.” I turned to look at the fire, my fingers brushing over my coarse jawline. “I know there will never be a reconciliation. I know it’s hopeless. But…I still hope.”
Scarlett remained quiet, listening as she stared at the side of my face.
