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I laugh mirthlessly. “As if you have the magical ability to get into my mind. What are you, a magician?”
A muscle tics in his jaw before he responds. “We have ways of accessing the mind, Elise. Don’t make me go there.”
I shove his hand off of me. “So you’d torture me, would you?”
A beat passes before he responds. “Only if I have to.”
“Ah, what a nice way of starting a marriage.” My voice catches at the end. I stare out through the passenger window so he doesn’t see the tears fill my eyes.
“Elise,” he says, softer now. “If you think of anything at all that can help us find Santo, it helps both of us. How can I protect you from danger if I don’t know everything that threatens you?”
I think about this. Protect me. It sounds like it should be something nice, something I’d even crave. But I don’t want his protection. I don’t want anything from him.
Still, there’s no use in hiding anything that could help us solve this mystery, and I have to reluctantly admit that he’s right. It’s in both of our best interests if we work together, not apart from one another.
“Before I left Tuscany, when I escaped with Piero.” He nods, even as his lips thin and his nostrils flare. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to discuss that time without getting furious. I don’t care, either. “I made him tell me why I was being sent back to America. He reluctantly told me. But when he did, he warned me about Santo.”
Tavi takes a left turn. A large sign that tells us we’re nearing the Vespucci Airport looms ahead of us. We fly by it.
“Did he? What did he say?”
I tell him.
“Piero and Santo served time together? I should know that. Goddammit.”
I sigh. The sky thunders with the noise of an airplane taking off. I stare at the red stripe along the side.
“When did they serve time together?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. But it’s… well, it’s unsettling because Piero was very determined to keep me away from Santo. He said he didn’t know all of you, but that Santo was a psychopath. He seemed… like he really knew him.”
“I see.” Tavi frowns and flips on his directional. We fly down the ramp as a plane flies right over us. This airport isn’t quite as busy as the airport in Pisa, but it’s a close second. “That’s good intel. Thank you.”
I nod. “I don’t like the thought of Piero being involved in any way with Santo,” I admit, then wish I hadn’t spoken. I don’t want to betray the memory of the only man I ever loved. It feels like the worst form of infidelity. And then it hits me, so hard it hurts.
Piero wasn’t the man I took an oath of fidelity to.
Ottavio Rossi is my husband. He’s the man I’ve vowed to be faithful to.
It’s possible to be faithful to someone you don’t love.
Do I love Tavi?
Did I even know Piero?
It feels like the worst form of betrayal.
I shove the thought away, as fiercely as I’ve pushed aside any painful memory of him. I want to hold onto what I had with Piero. He was my first love. The first one who ever paid attention to me, who cared for me. He risked everything to get me away from the Rossis and in the end, gave up his own life.
“I don’t believe for a minute that Piero was involved with Santo,” I say stubbornly, even as my reason tries to win in the mental battle of logic. “No. He knew him because they served time together. Makes sense to me.”
“Elise,” Tavi says with surprising gentleness. I’d expect that any conversation with Tavi about Piero would make him angry, but he seems to have some thread of sympathy in him anyway.
“What?”
He pulls into a lot I’ve never seen before that he accesses with his keycard.
“Look at me.”
I promised to obey him. I hate that I did, but the Rossi family takes their old-fashioned vows seriously. And I won’t be a person that goes back on her vows.
You vowed to love him.
How can I do such a thing? My heart aches.
“Yes?” My voice sounds aloof, but it’s only masking the raw emotions that threaten to choke me.
“It’s possible for someone to do terrible, even wicked things, and not let it define you. It’s possible to commit terrible crimes, and still love someone.”
I know without him telling me that he isn’t just talking about Piero. He’s talking about himself. Hell, maybe he’s talking about all of them.
“I know,” I say stubbornly. I turn away from him.
“Now listen.” Maybe I imagined any trace of kindness in his voice, because now he’s all business. “We’re heading in there to look for Santo. It’s absolutely crucial that you do what I tell you.”
