If Ever I Fall, page 7
Heading to bed now.
Miffy
Parisi Family Home
Vittoria, Sicily
Matteo
Fuck. He threw Sofia’s letter on his bed and cursed himself. This is all my fucking fault. I let things go too far. He hadn’t meant to, but that night months ago, that bloody perfect night, which should have never happened, he had shown her his heart, and then handed it to her on a goddamn silver platter.
They had wandered about halfway down the road when Sofia motioned for him to follow her on a narrow path through the Aleppo pine. Matteo’s family home was on the north side of the city. He wasn’t familiar with the off-road pathways south of town, so he relied on her as she zigzagged through the trees. After about five minutes, she turned left and went down a small grade that took them to a narrow but steady flowing stream surrounded by large stones.
“How did you find this place?”
“Pretty cool, huh?”
He nodded.
“I’m bored to tears, literally, so when I sneak out, I explore. And before you start lecturing me about how it isn’t safe, do you really think someone is going to come around Enzo’s property with all those guards who roam everywhere all the time while toting guns?”
Matteo sighed. “Miff.” She scrunched her nose without realizing she was doing the little rabbit thing he adored. “Let’s sit.” He waited until she found two large stones side by side, then she sat and looked up at him.
Sweet Christ. The trust shining from her pale blue eyes made him want to get down on his knees and beg her to forget she ever met him. He wasn’t worthy of that trust. Well, maybe he was today, but in a few short months, he would be a man she would despise. If she knew what he was going to do, she’d walk away from him right now. He couldn’t tell her, but he wished there was a way to let her know who and what he was about to become.
“Listen to me, and please, take what I’m saying to heart. There are people who would gladly risk their lives to kidnap you. If for no other reason than to have fleeting bragging rights that they got one over on your father.” She scowled. “Some of those people would kill you and dump you on Enzo’s doorstep. And some would do so much worse until you’d wish you were dead. Do you understand me?”
“I’m not oblivious, Matt. I know who my father is and what he does. Maybe not all he does, but enough to know that we are not your average suburban family. Huge house and money aside, how long do you think it took me to figure out my family was different? Try the first grade. What was I? Six?
“Everyone in our class was invited to this girl’s birthday party. It was the first time I went to anyone else’s house. My mother came with me, and you know what question number one was when we pulled into the girl’s driveway?” Matteo knew where this was going but waited for her continue. “Where are the gates and the men to protect the house?” She glared at him as if it was his fault. “My mother’s answer was something like, ‘Not everyone has the same kind of security systems in their house. Some you can’t see.’ I remember spending the entire party looking for something or someone that showed me this family had security. No shit. Other kids were playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and I was worried about bad people coming over and ruining the party because I couldn’t find the security.”
“We grew up with different realities, Sofia. Why do you think I live in London?”
“You’re old enough to do that for yourself, plus you’re a guy. Gio always had beaucoup freedom compared to me and Ro.” He tilted his head in question. “My younger sister, Aurora.”
“Your father’s parents were born here, and they were raised by people whose families have lived here for eons. Everything they knew and believed they had to have shared with him. That’s his frame of reference, right or wrong.”
“It’s all fucking wrong. I may not look like much, but I’m committed to my art and I’ll plow down anyone who tries to sidetrack me from making that my life’s work.”
“Back up. What do you mean you ‘may not look like much’?”
She motioned from her head down her body. “Gio is so gorgeous women in the supermarket trip over their feet when they see him. News flash. He’s the younger version of my father. My mother is stunning. Still. Ro is the perfect combination of both our parents, and she’s no skinny little waif-looking thing. Me, I have thin, wispy, nondescript brown hair, washed-out blue eyes, and I have the body of an eight-year-old boy.” She put her hands over her tiny breasts. “No tits.” She moved her hands to her hips. “From my rib cage down, there are no curves, and believe me when I tell you, my ass is pretty much nonexistent.”
Matteo’s mouth opened and he committed a cardinal sin. He didn’t exercise judgment. He didn’t stop to consider the impact of his words. He spoke the truth straight from his heart. “You are so wrong. You’re lovely. Ethereal. Your passion shines out of you, creating a bright light everyone is drawn to. You’re brutally honest, yet unbelievably compassionate. While you’ll probably hate me for saying this, I understand why your father wants to wrap you in cotton batting. You’re precious and rare. He’d be a fool if he didn’t protect you the way he does.”
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, which tore at his soul. And made him more stupid than he’d been already. He reached out and took both her small, delicate hands in his. “From now on, you must promise me you’ll cry only happy tears. I know right now your life is not what you want it to be, but trust me, it will be. You’ll return home, and your friends, family, and your art will be there, waiting for you. My loss will be tempered by the knowledge that you’re happy and carrying on. Which you will because you have an indomitable spirit.”
Gently, he squeezed her hands. “Let’s get you back to your uncle’s house,” Matteo looked up at the lightening sky, “before sunrise.”
Happy New Year to you too, albeit belated. Of the many things I wish for you, getting into Tufts is the top of the list. I’m glad to hear Akiva’s bar mitzvah went well. It seems your aunt equals your grandmother in having a tactical mind and a general’s maneuvers. Important skills with an unwieldy family.
Unfortunately, I won’t be in Sicily this summer. My work will take me around the world, and as of now, I can’t say where I’ll be when. I’m sure Enzo, Valentina, and Mia would love to see you, but I would have thought you’d like to go somewhere new before you start university. Once your classes begin, you’ll have little time for socializing, and given the nature of your studies, I imagine you’ll be spending much of your day creating your art.
Since I’ve travelled a bit more than you, I have a suggestion: Canada is lovely in the summer and far cooler than the Mediterranean. Perhaps you and your best friend would like to do a four-city tour, starting in Montreal, which is as close to France as you can get in North America. The food is divine, and by new world standards, the city boasts a rich history. I had the good fortune to visit a mate from Eton who was studying at McGill University. His family is from the city, and I was treated to the best kind of tour guide: a homegrown one. While I haven’t been to Toronto, or anywhere else in Canada, I understand it’s a world-class city, much on par with New York City. Since you like city life, I imagine you’d find Toronto fascinating.
I’ve heard Calgary is Canada’s version of Texas, full of cowboys, rodeos, and oil. While not my usual entertainment, I think it would be fun to see the city and take in its flavor. Artists benefit from exposing themselves to different sensory input. My guess, you’ll get a kick out of visiting there.
The place in Canada I’d like to go next is Vancouver. I’ve heard it’s beautiful, and a bit like being in Seattle, but nicer and less harried because everyone is Canadian. If you took the four-city tour, you could end in Vancouver, or drop down to Seattle before heading home.
Whatever you choose to do, and wherever you decide to go, I’m sure you’ll have a great time.
Fingers crossed you get a thumbs-up from Tufts soon.
Me
It had taken Matteo four hours to write that horrid letter. There was no good way to tell Sofia not to come visit him. Who the hell knew what his life would be like five months from now? Of one thing he was certain: it wouldn’t resemble anything he’d want to subject her to. Also, he didn’t want her here. It wasn’t safe for her in Sicily, even if everything wasn’t fucked up.
If she persisted, he’d have to tell her father.
And then she’d surely hate him.
Better that than any chance she’d be in harm’s way.
She was young. She’d get over her disappointment and move on with her life. She’d find someone worthy of her love, passion, and loyalty.
And if he was alive when she hitched herself to whoever that motherfucker turned out to be, Matteo would make certain that fucker treated Sofia like the most precious thing on earth.
Because she was.
Di Caro Residence
The Studio
Sofia
Waiting wasn’t Sofia’s strong suit. When she was a little kid, her mother always told Ro, who – surprise, surprise – acted out all the time, “Look at how well your sister is waiting. You need to learn to be patient, like Sofia.”
Ha. Sofia wasn’t patient. She’d become a master at covering what she was thinking and feeling. Her parents thought she was the model of grace and ease. Inside she was throwing open doors and running through them as fast as her feet could take her.
Stupid, really, not to let her family know who she was and what she truly wanted. But from an early age, she’d learned pretending to be docile got her more of what she desired, and sooner. Inadvertently, her parents had taught her to be a chameleon. And a charlatan. Not the life lessons they were going for, huh?
Two things had her climbing the walls. First, Amy hadn’t been in school for two days. Begging to use the phone at home was out of the question, so Sophia got creative. She went into the school’s main office and told one of the secretaries that she lost a paper she needed to work on, and she thought it was at Amy’s house, but since they weren’t allowed to have phones in school, and Amy was home sick, Sofia needed to call Amy to find out if the paper was there so someone could pick it up for her.
The secretary, who knew Sofia was a “good kid” because she never came into the office for any reason, said yes immediately, and dialed Amy’s number, then handed the handset to Sofia.
See, the docile charlatan was a good gig. Dishonest, but effective.
“Hello,” Amy coughed into the phone. Shit. Sofia was right. Amy was sick.
“Hi, Ames. I’m in the main office, and they let me call you to find out if I left my English paper at your house.”
Amy, who’d played many emotional scams with Sofia, caught on right away. “I’m so sorry, Soph. The paper isn’t here.” Code for no letter from Matteo. Dammit.
“How are you feeling?” That was a real question asked with genuine concern.
“Like shit. It’s been wicked cold, you know, and like an idiot, I went out to get nail polish at Walgreens and left the house without my coat. I thought I’d be in the street for like two minutes. To the store and back. But Monica called when I was out and asked me to stop at like fifteen places. Need I say,” she coughed and wheezed, “more?”
Sofia shook her head. “No. Stop talking and get better.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.”
“Rest, Ames.
“Right.” She hung up, coughing.
Sofia handed the receiver to the secretary, who looked at her like she was the sweetest kid in the world. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I hope Amy gets well soon.”
“Me too,” Sofia mumbled.
That was two days ago. Tomorrow was Friday. If Amy didn’t come to school tomorrow, Sofia was stuck waiting another three days for Matt’s letter. If it’d even come. Shitty to be thinking about that knowing Amy was home sick. If Sofia had normal parents, who led normal lives, she would have her phone. Enough said on that topic.
The second thing that had her jumping out of her skin was no word from Tufts. She’d gotten into Rhode Island School of Design, which was great, but not the awesome Tufts would be. Her parents were thrilled because if she went to RISD she would be close to Brown, which meant close to Gio, which really meant another set of eyes and ears keeping track of her. Not that Gio was like that, far from it, but that was definitely the way their father thought. Plus, Providence was a much smaller city than Boston, and the ’rents were all about “living in a safe environment conducive to learning,” and according to them, Providence offered her that safety more than Boston.
Good thing she’d had years of practice keeping her shit under wraps, ’cause every time they said that or something like it, she wanted to gag. Or hurl. Sometimes both.
Four months and one day until her eighteenth birthday. She could almost taste the freedom. The day after she turned legal, she was boarding a plane for Sicily, and the first thing she was going to do after she cleared customs was lay a deep, wet, full-of-tongues, long, long kiss on Matteo’s sexy mouth. Then she was going to get to the bottom of what was eating him.
She remembered how damn close her lips had been to his that night. She still couldn’t believe he hadn’t closed the tiny gap between them and taken what she had been so willing to offer.
She’d led the way out of the woods, and they walked down to the road that went past Enzo’s house. As they got closer to the hedge, Matteo took her hand in his, and she near fell over. The moment their skin touched she got a shock as if he’d sent her an electrical jolt. Sort of like when she walked in her socks across the rug in her bedroom and touched the door handle. Zing, snap, sizzle. Except the zing didn’t stop in her hand. Oh no, that current travelled around her nipples, down into her stomach, then took a deep dive and hit her clit, making her wet and ready.
She knew he felt it too because he stumbled a bit, stopped short, then turned to look at her, and holy shit, those caramel coffee eyes were on fire.
“Matt,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Don’t.”
“But –”
“I’m twenty seconds away from committing a crime. Help me not do that.”
She nodded, then pulled her hand out of his.
His chin lowered and he closed his eyes. “Would that I could…”
“What?” He’d mumbled and she barely heard him.
He opened his eyes and bent down so they were at eye level. “If you remember nothing else about this night, remember this: Everything I didn’t do was for you.” Before she could ask what he meant, he tilted his head toward the house and said, “Go.”
She wanted to lay her cheek against his broad chest and burrow in. She wanted to kiss him. Hug him. Hold on to him and never let go. But she saw the determination in the jut of his jaw and figured she’d go for now, but tomorrow they’d talk. Find a way to make this work.
She stretched up and whispered in his ear, “G’night, Matt.” Then, without looking back, she walked to the hedge and pushed through, knowing he was watching her.
She should have looked back.
The next twenty-four hours were the worst of her life.
She snuck in through the “servant’s entrance,” which led into the kitchen. Then she rounded the corner to take the back stairway up to her room when Cro-Magnon man one, Aldo, grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her down the hall to the front of the house.
“Hey.” She tried to pull her arm away.
He stared at her and didn’t let go. Then he moved them to the formal staircase and yelled up in Italian, “Got her, boss.”
Shit. They’d found out she had “escaped.”
When Enzo made the turn to the landing, he lifted his chin and Aldo let her go. “Come upstairs, Sofia.” She turned and glared at Aldo, turned back and went up the stairs, passing her cousin on the landing. She walked down the long hallway to her bedroom, went in, stood by the window, and crossed her arms over her chest. Enzo came in, closed the door, and sat at the end of her bed.
“Where were you, cara?”
“Out walking.”
“Until,” he tilted his head at the window, “sunrise.”
“Yep.”
“I’m guessing you weren’t alone.”
“Nope.”
“Who is he?”
“A friend of the family’s.”
“No friend of our family would keep a teenage girl out all night.”
Sofia sighed. She wanted to tell him she was going to be eighteen in a few months, but knowing how the Sicilians thought, she figured it would fall on deaf ears. “Listen, it’s no big deal. We walked and talked. That’s it.” She moved her hand down her body then re-crossed her arms. “I’m fine. It’s all good. Let’s not make a big thing out of it.”
“I’m afraid it is a big thing, cara. Every night, before I go to bed, I check to make sure everyone is safe in their rooms. When I didn’t see you in your bed, I searched the house, then tracked your phone. When I found it here,” he pointed to the nightstand drawer, “I went to Mia and asked if she knew where you were. When she told me she didn’t, immediately, I sent the guards out looking for you. Then, as I was getting ready to call your father, he called me.”
Oh shit. Bad turned to the absolute worse in a heartbeat.
“Exactly.” Enzo had read her expression. “Your father asked if Matteo Parisi had been to the house. I figured you were with Matteo, and told your father you were missing, but I felt certain we would find you, and that I’d call him as soon as we did. Right now, he’s somewhere over the Atlantic on his way here. He knows you’re safe, but he’s concerned. I expect he’ll arrive at the house around three this afternoon.”
Sofia drew in a long breath through her nose.
