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I pulled back from the battlefield to watch Enzo put on gloves and a mask and start scrubbing the kitchen.
Meanwhile, I opened the windows and looked around the rest of the house. Vincenzo had been right; there was hardly anything. In some rooms, not even furniture, as if he had rented the house only to keep Maria and her son prisoners.
I shook myself, finished my tour and returned to the kitchen.
Enzo briefly looked around at me before returning to his work. I watched him with folded arms.
Tramonti would undoubtedly have been the better alternative; after all, there were all the necessary utensils to handle everything with as little mess as possible.
"You're outraged, aren't you?" he asked.
"A little," I replied, staring at my hands.
He did not interrupt his work, but I noticed he scrubbed less determinedly. Had what I said bothered him after all?
Finally, he did stop, straighten up, and look in my direction. "Usually, these ventures consist of Fiero and me. No women to worry about when the going gets tough. You think I didn't worry last night about what would happen if this guy snapped and went off on you guys? Goes off onyoubecause he didn't like you taking the baby out of the line of fire?"
"You're not the only one who can worry," I said softly, my body tense.
"Realistically, what's going to happen to me?"
There it was again, the arrogance typical of a de Archard when it came to his own life. "You could die."
He snorted.
"This is not funny, Enzo. What I'm saying is completely serious. You could die, and you would leave behind your brothers, your sister, Fiero and Natale are also close to you. And me. You would leave me behind alone too. And actually, I don't care if you want to hear this, but we've spent the last few weeks together, and no matter how grim, dark, and mean you are sometimes, I've gotten used to you and your presence. I rely on you. Your protection and that sense of security you evoke in me."
He raised his shoulders indifferently. "You could find someone else."
"BUT I DON'TWANTANYONE ELSE!" I hurled at him. Furious that he never cared what I thought or how I was doing.
I felt tears stinging my eyes and hated myself for growing fond of this man.
That was my death sentence if I thought about it more carefully. At some point, he would do something or bring something to light that would bring me to the edge of my strength.
To make matters worse, he didn't even have enough courage to speak up. He just looked at me, that unbelievably sad expression on his face that told me exactly how much worse I had made everything.
"Very well," I murmured, barely holding a sob. What would he care if I burst into tears simply because I couldn't stand how cold it made him when someone was worried about him. "I'm going back… to Tramonti."
I closed my hands around my upper arms and went out the back door. It almost slipped out that I was going home. It wasn't even that, or he would have used the last few minutes to limit the damage.
But he didn't. Because it didn't matter. Unfortunately, I remembered his words, which he had addressed to me not even five days ago.
I am not the man you want. But youare the woman I need. Well, despite all adversities, he had developed into the man I wanted – and not just since yesterday. I wanted him, although I was very well aware of what kind of pain that brought with it.
I would never really have Enzo.
Not as long as he did not admit to himself what had long been obvious.
* * *
For the first time, I enjoyed the sheer power in the Sián's engine. Eight hundred and eight horsepower, seven gears, and a top speed that you probably couldn't reach on any highway in the world without completely blocking it.
It felt good not to take my foot off the gas pedal and get around the oncoming morning traffic with some skill. In a way, you could even call it satisfying.
I would have liked it even better to sweep through the completely empty streets of Naples, but that was probably as improbable as it was utopian. It was a miracle not to encounter a police car and not even be cut off by the daredevil maneuvers this car made.
I raced toward Mount Vesuvius, which was hidden in the morning fog and only showed itself when I was already on the highway that led past Torre del Greco and would take me toward Pompei and finally over countless switchbacks to Tramonti.
