Chapter Twenty-Five

I'm driving along the coastal road that leads away from the beach house, feeling unsure about everything.

The fight is weighing on me for many different reasons. I've hated seeing Grazia hurting, and every fiber inside of me wants to stop doing that to her.

But then I saw the devious wisdom that she is capable of, and I was both impressed and turned on, and a little concerned, because if she ever decided to use that brain against me, she might just do some damage.

At the same time, hearing her thoughts has shown that she is much more than a mafia princess.

This is the kind of woman who could easily live beside me, helping me make smart decisions, taking care of me and my house, and satisfying me sexually whenever I felt the need.

This is all I would ever require of any wife, really, and it would come as second nature to Grazia.

But she has Italian mafia blood, and they're not the kind of people that we cohabitate with—never mind try to marry.

These are the people that we stick to for business deals for good reason. I don't make the rules, but loyalty to our family makes me follow them.

Carlos is angry now, but if I had to tell him that I was fucking my ransom, and now I was thinking about keeping her as my lover and possibly the mother of my children, he would most likely have me removed from Mexico, not just from his team and family.

If she wasn't a Baldini, making her so far removed from my life that we could never truly find common ground, I could see myself committing to this woman.

We would have smart and beautiful children, and work together to continue building our home and our wealth.

That's how I feel after baring my soul to her. She makes me feel vulnerable, yet the safest I have ever felt at the same time.

I still don't know how Grazia feels. I can't take this anymore, turning the steering wheel sharply and crossing over the road, making a U-turn before any other cars come around the corner ahead of me.

The beach is almost deserted today, which is ideal for this conversation I am planning to have.

Grazia holds my hand as we take our second walk down this strip of sandy beach, only now in the opposite direction.

She was surprised when I showed up at the house, just thirty minutes after I had left, and more shocked when I asked if she'd take a walk with me.

Thankfully the anger she was showing to me had mostly melted away, but I did have to let her sleep for a couple of hours before we came out.

I got some sleep on the sleeper couch as well, which was good for my mental clarity.

I want to talk with her, figure out where her head is, and see if perhaps what I'm feeling isn't that crazy.

But so far, we've both been silent, taking in the smell of the ocean.

I show her the cabana as we walk.

It's a place I've often enjoyed sitting and watching the ocean.

Sometimes it feels like I own this entire beach, especially on days like today, when no other humans can be seen.

We see seagulls eating something nearby and a crab making its way into the ocean.

I don't mind sharing the space with animals and wild creatures. They have never bothered me as much as people do.

"Grazia…your letter." I clear my throat and push the words out.

The silent comfort we have is nice, but things need to be said. "I read it, and I understand the questions you have, but things are complicated."

"I know," she says, her hand tightening around mine. "I know, Marco, but if we can make anything out of this, now is the time. Don't you think?"

"Make anything out of this? We come from very different worlds. This isn't like Tarzan and Jane or Romeo and Juliet."

She laughs at my references, but I'm not sure why. I think they're good examples of how Americans have romanticized incompatible couples.

"No, we're not like them. But we're also not that different. I get your business, and you understand my family."

She sounds so logical, but also like she's trying to convince herself.

"Your family is currently on top of my list of people I'd like to eliminate."

"But you won't, right?" Grazia looks at me, suddenly scared. And this is why we just won't work together.

Our worlds collide in the worst ways possible.

She'd always be worried that I was going to have her family killed, and I'd always wonder if she was being used as a pawn to destroy me and my business.

"I won't. You have my word," I promise her. "But Grazia, we do need to figure out exactly what we are doing here."

"I know…" She keeps holding my hand, but her gaze is fixed out on the ocean.

"You asked me in your letter if all this was about power and nothing else."

I look at her, but she keeps looking away from me.

"When I brought you here, yes, it was all about the power that you could help me get. I just wanted to receive what I deserved, after working so hard for Carlos and seeing nothing from it."

"And now?" Grazia turns to me and gives me her attention, her big brown eyes looking into my soul, waiting for me to admit that things have changed, that I now want it all—her, the money, the power, everything.

But if I had to choose, she would be enough.

"Now things have changed. I think you can feel that. Neither of us expected this, I am sure, but here we are."

"Here we are," Grazia repeats thoughtfully.

"I don't know if I have the answer for you, though, about what we are going to do about it."

"I know, Marco, I understand that it's not a black-and-white kind of situation. It's just as difficult for me."

"I believe that. And I see you battling with being here…"

"Not being here, just being in the beach house, locked up and unable to go anywhere unless it's a planned thing like now."

I sigh. There is still a mental block in my mind about trusting her enough to open up fully until I know how she feels.

But I can't seem to help her open up about how she's feeling, and when the conversation comes back to her wanting freedom, it sounds like her feelings are not as strong as her desire to be free from me.

"And if you were free?" I ask her, stopping to look at her. "Where would you go?"

I expect her to say back home, but she might also not want to admit that to me.

She thinks for a minute.

"I guess, I wouldn't really go anywhere. But I would come here more, to the beach, and I'd maybe go to the shops. It's less about actually leaving and more about knowing that I could, if I wanted to."

Her eyes are getting watery, and I don't think it's because of the wind that has picked up.

I bring her head into my chest and hold her there for a while.

There is nothing in me that wants to see this woman hurt or upset, and I want to give her the freedom that she's craving.

I know it's not her fault that her brothers have fucked everything up.

And she's definitely not at fault for being related to the Baldinis, which is what caused her kidnapping.

We stand there for a while, until I slowly tug Grazia to walk back to the beach house.

There is no argument from her, but I can see her shoulders slumping as we get closer to the house.

At the door, Grazia turns and takes one more deep breath of outside air.

She walks inside and starts to make coffee, but I tell her I have to go and that I will talk to her soon.

She looks sad at first, then smiles and tells me to drive safely.

My mind is clear now, I know what I want to do.

I just hope that Grazia is on the same page as me and she wants this as much as I do.

The jeweler is busy today. There are many young couples looking at rings and old men buying their sweethearts a new gold necklace.

I wait fifteen minutes before a pretty young girl comes up to me and asks how she can help.

I explain what I'm looking for and she shows me three beautiful options, but they're just not good enough.

I shake my head.

The girl brings out another case, from a back counter. These are gorgeous, shiny, and feature much more impressive diamonds.

I select one that looks most like Grazia would wear it and pay before going back to my house.

I let Jane and my head of security in on what I am planning, so that they can both make the necessary plans.

I tell Jane that I might be bringing Grazia back to the house, so she should expect that for tomorrow.

And I warn my security to be within earshot, but not to have anyone actually watching me or Grazia tonight.

I'm nervous as it is. I don't need a full audience for this.

Then, I send Jane with a simple note for Grazia:

She might not love that I'm bossing her around, but I have no doubt that she'll find it worth it once she arrives at our date.

I book an appointment for her and give Jane the details, adding a hair appointment for her as well, as a thank-you for helping me arrange all of this.

The old woman touches my cheek and smiles before she leaves.

Next, I need to put together my plan for the date.

I call up an old contact who does date set-ups and explain what I would like.

She is fully on board and promises to have everything set up by eight o'clock, which works fine for me.

With everything sorted out, I have five hours before I need to be at the beach to meet Grazia, and I don't know what to do with myself.

If I stay here, I might just talk myself out of this whole thing, so I get into my car and take a drive, not quite sure where I'm going.

Weighing up my options, I realize there is a place that I haven't been in ages, since there has been so much going on, and today is the best time to go there.

I drive over to the cemetery where my parents are buried and find their graves. They were buried next to each other.

I tell the headstones the PG version of everything that has happened with Grazia, and the deal, and my plan for tonight.

I know that they can't answer me, or react to my stories, and I don't even know if they hear me, but it always feels better when I can tell them about my life.

I have a feeling they would have approved of Grazia, although probably not about all the things I have done in the last few weeks.

I used to come here to tell my parents every big event that happened in my life, and it always made me feel better that they knew what was happening.

Then as I got older, I'd come and spill my worst thoughts and feelings, knowing they wouldn't judge me.

I got very good at imagining the advice they would give me, and then using that to fix whatever was bugging me.

It's worked more often than it hasn't.

I leave them flowers, tell them I love them, and then drive back home to get ready.

This is one date that I don't want to be late for.