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ISA
Evie and I are both silent on the way back to the boat. The guys talk quietly among themselves, but I don’t listen. I’m too mired in my own worries to eavesdrop on theirs. It’s such a shame, too, because the night started so well. Now, I can’t decide what bothers me more—hearing that my father is sick, seeing Elio and DiAngelo so estranged, or realizing how deeply I already care for Elio.
I’ve been with him for just over a week, yet it feels like I’ve known him my whole life. In a way, I did know him, but not in the way he’d like to think. None of that seems to matter. Nor does the fact that I watched him kill two men as easily as one might swat a fly. Being part of the Mafia doesn’t mean I’m used to seeing people murdered. I’ve seen dead men after the fact, but never an actual killing.
I should be appalled.
The heartbreaking nature of any loss of life should be at the forefront of my mind. When I think of Mazzi’s death, all I can summon is relief. That and gratitude that Elio wasn’t hurt in the process. His actions tonight were purely to protect me. It’s all been for me—to keep me safely out of Mazzi’s hands.
How could I not care for a man willing to protect me at all costs?
That’s exactly what my father would have done and what Ario did do—he gave his life for me. That sort of selfless love is too precious to disregard.
Love.
Does Elio love me?
I don’t know how it’s possible when we’ve only recently reconnected, but neither the laws of nature nor man seem to apply to him. He exists in a realm of his own creation where he is king.
What leads a man to that sort of extreme?
I ponder that question as I watch him wash his hands at the sink after returning to our cabin on the boat. Bent at the waist, I swear I can feel the weight of the world pressing on his broad shoulders. The ache it brings to my heart is too much.
When he finishes, I cross the room and wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him with my cheek pressed to his back. His hands, cool from the water, cover my own.
“Will you try to talk to him again?” I ask softly.
His chest expands and contracts on a heavy breath. “It wouldn’t accomplish anything.” The unmistakable weariness in his voice breaks my heart.
“He was hurting, El. Try not to hold it against him.”
Elio turns, causing me to release my hold. “I don’t want to talk about it, Isa. Let’s get ready for bed, then you can call your dad.”
“Really?”
“If he’s sick, you should know.”
“Thank you.” The smile I give him is both grateful and weary. I hurry to change into my pajamas and wash off my makeup. Once we’re both ready, Elio dials my father’s number via a video call on his laptop while we sit cross-legged on the bed.
Dad answers on his phone, his hand intentionally covering the camera until he realizes it’s me. “Isa, are you alright?”
“Yes, Daddy. Everything is fine here, but we ran into DiAngelo tonight, and he said you were sick. Have you been taking your medicine?”
He grimaces. “That boy shouldn’t have said anything. I forgot my pills at first and passed out one day. I didn’t realize the meds were doing all that much, but now I do. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“She does worry,” Elio chimes in unexpectedly. “If you care about her, then you’ll take care of yourself.”
Dad glares. “She wouldn’t have to worry if she was here where she belongs.”
“She’s a grown woman, Cosimo.” Elio’s words are firm yet kind, in a way, like he’s trying to help Dad see how restricted my life has been.
I appreciate what he’s doing, but I’ve had enough tense conversations for the day. “Well, I’m very relieved to hear you’re taking your meds.”
“I’ll be fine, princess,” Dad assures me with a smile. His face hardens, however, when he turns his gaze back to Elio. “We’ve yet to get a ransom demand or any sort of terms from you. What is it you want from us?”
“Maybe I have exactly what I wanted,” Elio says calmly.
My breathing hitches at his admission. He’s told me as much, but it’s still hard to comprehend.
