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The air is crisp on top of the hill. The oxygen seems thinner. It’s just my imagination though. The graveyard is the reason why every breath punishes my lungs. Situated on the highest point of the property, the graves face the sea in the east and the mountains in the west. The view is beautiful. The landscape is stark and unpretentious. A few bushes grow between the rocks, lending splashes of green to the brown landscape. There’s honesty in the simplicity. Peace. That’s why I buried them here and not in the overpopulated cemetery in Bastia.
The three headstones are new. They’re the first ones to mark the family burial ground. My mother and father lie side by side. Adeline is next to my mother. The empty plot left of her is reserved for me. A distance away is a marking for my wife’s grave. She won’t rest close to me. If she’ll rest at all. Maybe her spirit will haunt me in the afterlife just as she haunts me in the flesh in this life.
I remember the roses in my hand when the thorns dig into my palm. I haven’t realized how tightly I was squeezing my fist. The sharp pricks of pain ground me in the moment, pulling me from my dark thoughts to the present.
Stepping up, I place the perfect white hothouse blooms on Adeline’s grave. I take a moment to trace my thumb over her name that’s engraved in the marble. A cascade of sorrow crashes down on me, leaving me hollow and destitute. I miss my sister’s bubbly nature and impulsive hugs so much I feel it like a punch in the gut. Regret is a monster that breathes fire into my chest. I regret not spending more time with her when I had the chance. I regret not showing more interest in her friends. I was always too rushed, too busy to take over the business, too caught up in work to make the time.
I pick up the two remaining bouquets and leave them on my parents’ graves. More regret torments me when I kiss my fingertips and press them on my mother’s name. I always did too little for her. Always too late. I’ll never forgive myself for failing her, for never giving her the gift of rehousing her family while she was alive. I’ll never forgive myself for her death. And my father… He never witnessed the wedding he was so set on bringing to fruition. Neither did he enjoy the vengeance of Sabella’s death. He died having given that order, knowing I hadn’t executed it. He died before I had a chance to let him come to terms with my decision. Because of my actions, he couldn’t pass on peacefully.
And me?
I’m the despicable traitor who thinks about love when I fuck my wife. I’m the weak man who too damn quickly ignores that she’s my enemy. I should let her rot in her banishment. I should hate and torment her. Instead, I held her in my arms as I slept in her bed. I let the unthinkable happen, letting her get to me. Letting her crawl even deeper under my skin. Because something happened this morning when I came inside her, something intimate that gave me pause.
Hate is intimate. But these feelings of fulfillment and content were different. They scared me. They reminded me how dangerous she is. They reminded me how fickle human nature can be, how fast I am to forget the people who lost their lives for the life I’m living. My family paid with their blood for Sabella to become my wife. For that alone, I should hate her forever.
I can fuck her and love it. I can torment her and savor it. I can plant my seed in her belly and take the biggest gift a woman can give a man without owing her as much as a thank you. Her say doesn’t have to matter. It won’t. Her obedience can please me, but it should never make me forget. I can find my peace in her suffering, but I can never find my salvation in her arms. She’s my destiny, but she can never be my love. Not if I’m to honor my family.
What happened this morning can never happen again. I can’t let my guard down when I’m with her. I’m a fucking idiot. Sabella is clever. Her compliance is nothing but a trap, a ploy to steal her freedom. She’s a pretty Delilah, trying to coax my secrets out of me with her luscious body and seductive submission. I have no doubt she’ll sell me out to Lavigne in a second if it means she’ll walk free.
She’s a beautiful con-artist, a deceitful betrayer, luring me in with her sweet talking and naïve advice and winning me over with her coy smiles and home-cooked chicken. She can try, but I’ll give her nothing. No incriminating information. The only thing she’ll get is my cum. I’ll fill her up until she can’t take anymore, until our souls are grafted and I’m spilling from every crevice of her body. I’ll make her pregnant if it’s the last thing I do, and she won’t even see it coming. No, she’ll be falsely secure, thinking her birth control pills will save her. She’s bound to me by law and name, but I’ll also bind us in blood.
When she’s the mother of my child, she’ll no longer want to run. She’ll have a very good reason to stay. No child of mine is going anywhere. My offspring will remain here where they belong, and so will she. She’ll blow out her last breath on this property. Her body will fertilize the very soil I’m standing on. Even in death she’ll be punished, banished to her corner like a traitor deserves. Nonetheless, she’ll be here, her soul at peace or not—I couldn’t care less—for all eternity.
My turbulent thoughts don’t abate when I walk to the car. What I did last night and this morning shook me. What passed between Sabella and me was a blessing in a way. The disturbing feelings served to put me back on the path from which I steered with alarming speed.
Heidi intercepts me in the hallway when I arrive home.
“Mr. Russo.” She crosses her arms and widens her stance. “We have to talk.”
The use of my surname rekindles a memory. Then it clicks in place. Suddenly, I understand the reason for that pesky thorn in the back of my mind that won’t let me find peace. It’s what Sabella called me when she came. Not Angelo. Mr. Russo.
“Your wife,” Heidi says. “You’re not treating her fairly.”
My irritation escalates. “She’s getting more than she deserves.”
“Leaving her alone in that place isn’t right.”
I push her out of my way and continue to my study. “My wife and how I treat her is none of your business.”
“Not letting me go there,” she calls after me. “What good can that do?”
I turn on my heel. “You will go there to deliver groceries and nothing more.” My tone is cold. Harsh. “I thought I was clear.”
Worry and disapproval shimmer in her eyes. “What if something happens to her?”
“I’ve been there all night. She’s happy. A little too happy, to be honest. Satisfied?”
“Mr. Russo—”
I get into her face. “I don’t want to hear another fucking word about it. One more chirp out of your mouth about Sabella and a delivery service from Bastia will make a monthly food drop at the new house. Is that clear enough for you?”
She reels and swallows, watching me with disappointment that shouldn’t bother me.
I don’t wait for her answer. I spin around and stalk to my study, slamming the door behind me.
Fuck.
Spearing my hands through my hair, I take a moment to find calm. How did I go from wanting to kill Sabella as little as a week ago to craving her affection? There was a time when that need wouldn’t have terrified me, a time when everyone was alive, and the biggest stumbling block was getting her father’s blessing to tie the knot. That was only three years ago, but it feels like twenty. I feel like an old man. The weight of the past keeps dragging me down. Coming up for air is a constant battle, a never-ending, exhausting fight.
