Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Saverio

I sense Anya’s unhappiness, and it doesn’t sit right with me. If I could, I’d fix it because I want her birthday to be perfect, but love is the one thing I can’t give her. I hoped this day and tonight would be enough, but my girl isn’t easily placated by material incentives or bling. Anya is a down to earth, perfectly sweet, honest to God good girl. What matters to her are the things money can’t buy. It’s just one of the many qualities I love so much about her. This time, though, this remarkable character trait counts against me.

When she walks away from me on the indoor sundeck, I give her space. It’s the least I can do. But that doesn’t mean I like it. My chest feels too tight. A weight that wasn’t there this morning settles squarely on my shoulders.

I give it fifteen minutes before I go to the master suite to change. Anya is nursing Claire in the wingback chair by the window, staring at her baby with a soft smile on her pretty face. She changed into a sweater and leggings. Her feet are clad in thick socks. Judging by the smell of her floral shampoo that hangs in the room, she finished her shower not long ago. Her wet hair is brushed out and arranged over one shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I have a quick shower and pull on a hoodie, a pair of jeans, and my favorite boots.

When I exit the bathroom, Anya and Claire are gone. Panic hits me first. Bereavement follows fast and hard. The sentiments are always present when my girls are not in my immediate sight, but usually, they’re more of a vague uneasiness that won’t leave me alone.

Today, the feelings are more pronounced, maybe because of the unpleasant moment earlier. It’s like an odd kind of foreboding, like having the devil breathe down my neck. It bothers me to the extent that I’m in too much of a rush to see for myself that they’re safe and sound to dry my hair. I settle for brushing the strands through with my fingers while hurrying downstairs as fast as the cane allows to find them in the lounge in front of the fireplace.

My chest expands with relief. It feels a lot like waking up after a bad dream to realize the anguish was for nothing. Claire lies on her tummy on a baby blanket while Anya sits crossed-legged in front of her. Anya shows Claire colorful pictures of fruit and vegetables and points at each one while pronouncing the name.

“Apple,” she says, holding up a flashcard with an apple, a pear, a banana, and an orange while pointing at the apple.

Claire pokes the picture of the red apple with a small finger.

“Yes,” Anya exclaims, uttering a delighted laugh. “What a clever girl you are.”

A cute little baby chuckle bubbles over Claire’s lips at her mother’s praise, which makes Anya laugh harder.

Feeling like an outsider looking in on an intimate scene, I’m reluctant to encroach on their game. Dante and Livy choose that moment to return, leaving deep footprints in the snow across the yard.

Their laughter reaches me from the mud room next to the kitchen. Tearing my gaze away from Anya and Claire, I limp to the door to go start lunch. Anya still doesn’t say a word to me. She gives no indication that she’s aware of my presence. I may as well be invisible. She’s happily absorbed in her game with Claire, and I can’t help but feel excluded.

Since we’re in the mountains, I thought a cheese fondue would be fun. While I take out the ingredients, Dante sets the big table in the rustic dining room. Livy goes upstairs to change out of her snowsuit.

Our lunch is convivial enough with Anya drawing Dante and Livy into a conversation about their hike. Dante is in his element, making jokes that have the ladies in stitches. Claire sits next to Anya in a highchair, turning her little head between the grownups and observing them with concentration. If anyone notices that I’m quiet, they don’t say so. I try to make the meal pleasant for my birthday girl, making sure everyone’s glasses remain full and that the dishes are refilled as they run empty, but try as I may, I fail spectacularly in making her special day happy. Despite the pretty smile she wears, she’s hurting. I know her well enough by now to know when she’s faking it. But I always knew I was going to break her heart, and there’s nothing to do about it but give her small acts of comfort.

In the afternoon, we play boardgames in the lounge in front of the fire. I remember from the Christmas we spent with Livy that Anya enjoyed that. Dante, who hates boardgames, is a real sport. Not only does he play Scrabble and Cluedo without complaining but he even seems to enjoy it. It’s his idea to play Blackjack. Anya promises she won’t read the cards, and Livy and Dante giggle like kids when she loses.

Anya admits defeat and snuggles on the sofa with Claire lying on her chest while Dante challenges Livy for a round that quickly turns into a drinking game. Despite the raucous laughter, my girls fall asleep. I cover them with a blanket and sit down next to them with my arm around Anya’s shoulders as Livy and Dante polish half a bottle of J?germeister.

When it’s time to get ready for her surprise party, I wake Anya with a soft kiss. I’m not confident enough on my feet yet to give Claire a bath. I’m too scared I’ll lose my balance and drop her in the water. I let Anya take care of the task.

As I put out the fire, more laughter comes from the kitchen where Livy and Dante blend some hangover fix. Just as I put the protective screen back in front of the fireplace, they return with their remedy in hand.

I eye the green muck in their glasses. “Are you sure that’s going to work?”

Livy giggles. “Like a charm.”

I straighten from my crouched position, trying not to show how much my knee is bothering me. “It sounds as if you’re talking from experience.”

She smiles coyly. “Oh, I am.”

I suppress a grimace when pain shoots up my leg. “At least you’ll be sober for the party.”

“Don’t worry.” Dante meets my gaze with an unspoken message in his. “I can handle my liquor. I know when to stop.”

Meaning he’s sober enough to protect our girls if anything happens, although, with Raphael hiding like a coward, it’s unlikely. Still, we never take anything for granted.

“Me too,” Livy says. “I was doing shooters before the two of you were born.”

My words hold a warning. “Just make sure Anya’s party goes as planned. I don’t want anything to spoil it for her.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Livy says, shooting me an accusing look as she brushes past me on her way to the door. “I’m going to get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”

Staring after her, I say, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Dante’s tone is sarcastic. “Maybe that you should practice what you preach?”

I turn on him. “What the fuck?”

“We’re all doing our part.” He watches me with an expressionless face before he follows in Livy’s footsteps. “Just make sure you do yours.”

The allegation hangs in the air when he’s gone, turning the atmosphere sour.

“I’m doing my damn best,” I mutter to the empty space, convincing no one but myself.

With everyone busy getting ready, I call Nicole from the privacy of the closed deck to check that the party setup is running smoothly. She tells me not to worry and to get off the phone so that she can get on with overseeing the decorators and caterers.

“Oh,” she exclaims. “The musicians just arrived.” With a hurried, “Ciao,” she ends the call.

Fifteen minutes before we have to go, I knock on the bedroom door to give Anya a heads-up that we’ll leave soon. She opens the door wearing a turquoise dress that…fuck. It takes my breath away. Thin diamanté straps run over her shoulders. The bodice is tight, hugging her generous breasts. The cut emphasizes her narrow waist and the gentle curve of her hips. Layers of voile fall softly around her legs and end just above her ankles to bare her strappy diamanté heels. Her make-up is light enough to accentuate instead of dominate her beautiful natural features. She left her hair down and dried it in waves. A diamond clip keeps a few wisps on the side in place. The dark ruby color catches the overhead light, shining like a river of silky red flames. Her eyes shine like the most brilliant suns, their color like molten gold. Her scent wafts to me, that smell of summer and sunshine I find so addictive.

“Anya.” I take her in, my mouth suddenly dry. “You look beautiful.”

Beautiful is an inadequate word that doesn’t do her justice, but my mind has gone blank. I’m incapable of coming up with a more appropriate compliment because I can’t focus on anything other than the gorgeous woman in front of me.

“Thank you,” she says, her tone polite. “The bathroom is all yours.”

Without another word, she picks up Clair, who’s strapped into a baby rocker, and slips around me into the hallway.

My tone is brusque, carrying the frustration that eats into my gut. “Anya.”

She pauses and looks at me.

“Stop avoiding me, tesoro .” What’s supposed to sound like an appeal for reason comes out more like a threat. “You can’t run away from me if we’re living in the same house.”

Lifting her chin, she manages to look down at me from her meagre height. “I’m not running, Saverio. I decided to stay out of my own free will, remember?”

With that, she gives me her back and walks away.

The words hit me straight in the chest. She’s given me everything I wanted—no, more. She gave me her body and her heart as well as her consent. It’s more than I could ever have hoped for. Yet the joy and victory I should feel evade me. The reason for that is simple. My treasure isn’t happy, and when she’s unhappy, so am I.

The realization bowls me over. It might as well have fallen right out of the sky, so obvious yet so damn hard to grasp. I’ve been too blind to see it before. I’ve never cared about anyone’s happiness like I care about hers. Not even Rachele’s. Rachele was an infatuation. She represented the status I wanted to achieve. She was nothing but a trophy wife, and as I’m forced to face the truth, I’m also forced to admit that Rachele was right in many things she said. I did her an injustice. What that means is fucking scary, because Anya is so much more than an infatuation or an obsession. She’s so much more than the sinful body that gets my dick hard. She’s the only woman who stood by me through thick and thin, the only person who never betrayed me, not even when I hurt her with my callous words. Except for Dante, she’s the only person on this planet I trust. She’s the only woman I want by my side. My queen. She’s the only person I can imagine myself growing old with.

Fuck me.

Dante was right. I thought I could protect her from my enemies if I claimed I didn’t love her, that she wouldn’t be my greatest weakness they could exploit, but the only person I’ve been protecting was myself. I can’t go through what I did with Rachele again, not because Rachele broke me but because Anya will. Rachele hurt me deeply, but Anya has the power to irrevocably destroy me.

Because I love her.

I fell for her a long time ago, and I knew deep inside that she was my only weakness, the one thing that had the power to raze me to the ground. That’s why I didn’t think twice when those bullets rained down on us. It’s my duty to protect her and our baby girl, a duty I’ll honor until the day I blow out my last breath, but I didn’t save her out of duty alone. I saved her because I couldn’t bear the thought of living without her.

The realization cripples me. Like I knew it would, love leaves me weak. I stumble in its wake, cursing the bonds that tie me to this enormous emotion because I’m fucking shaking with fear. I’ve never feared anything, certainly not death, and I’m shivering in my boots when I think of all the bad things that a life like mine can bring over Anya.

My mere existence will constantly put her in harm’s way. I knew it would floor me if anything happened to her, so I fought loving her with every morsel of my being. I fought and denied it so hard not for her sake but for my own.

Only, it’s too late to protect myself. Denying it won’t change a damn thing. I’m only lying to myself and hurting Anya in the process. I’ll just have to own up to it. I’ll simply have to face my fears and make damn sure that nothing ever happens to my girls. I’ll defeat every enemy that crosses my path. Raphael sure as hell won’t be the last. I’ll make damn sure I get to the top and stay there. With Anya beside me, where she belongs.

I guess it’s time to come clean. It’s time to be honest not only with myself but also with Anya. I’ll give her the birthday she merits and the truth she deserves to hear. What better time to do it than tonight, the night on which I want to hand her the world?