Chapter 8

Salvatore

I drive her to the coast, the tension between us thick as we travel in silence. When we arrive, there’s a golden glow over the pristine shoreline. I park the car and lead her to stroll through the gated community. Villas are spread out with ample space between them, ensuring privacy.

While walking around, I show her the landscaped gardens, which have fountains and exotic plants—everything that she loves. It’s a paradise, and I sneak a look at her to see if she’s impressed, but it doesn’t seem like she is.

“Surprise,” I say, gesturing towards the grandest villa, directly facing the shoreline. It’s the biggest one, and the expansive windows have an amazing view of the outside.

“That one’s yours,” I say.

We come to a halt in front of it, and the sight of the coast from here is outstanding. A yacht, shining in the sunlight, is anchored just offshore.

“And that,” I point to the yacht, its sleek form bobbing gently in the water, “is also yours. I know how much you love the sea. They are both in your name.”

I watch her face, expecting her eyes to light up, she loves swimming and being by the sea. I want to make up for all the ways I’ve failed her emotionally. But instead of joy, her eyes narrow with anger.

“Do you really think this fixes anything?” she snaps, her voice cutting through the ambient sounds of the waves and seagulls. “Do you think material things can make up for everything you’ve done?”

This isn’t the reaction I anticipated. “Serena, I thought—”

“Thought what, Salvatore? That you can buy my forgiveness?” She shakes her head. “This isn’t what I want. This isn’t what I need.”

I plead with her, my voice softer than usual, “Please, Serena, just give this day a chance.”

She looks towards the shoreline, staying silent for a minute that feels like an eternity. Finally, she nods reluctantly, and I allow my muscles to relax. This woman knows how to keep me on my toes. I’m willing to lay out my entire fortune for her heeled feet to step on, just for her to look at me like she used to.

I lead her towards the yacht, where I help her up on it. The captain meets us there, shaking my hand. He then shakes Serena’s hand, avoiding looking at her for too long. Good.

“Are you ready to go diving?” the captain asks with a smile.

Serena’s eyes almost pop out of her head. “Diving?” she exclaims, shuffling on her feet with excitement.

“Yes,” I say, watching her reaction closely. “I know you’ve always wanted to try it.”

She’s almost jumping up and down at the news. She’s so endearing that it’s making my heart pound in my chest. The captain briefs us on the safety protocols and the diving plan. Serena listens intently, overflowing with anticipation.

We set sail, moving towards a deeper part of the sea. Soon we’re far from the shore, surrounded by endless blue. As we gear up for the dive, I see a flicker of fear in Serena’s eyes, though she tries to hide it. Brave girl.

We prepare to dive, all the problems between us temporarily forgotten. As we stand on the platform, ready to jump, she grips my arm tightly, her nerves showing. I relish the feel of her touch. I’ve missed it, longed for it, and craved it for all the time she took it away from me. She notices my reaction and leans in close, so the captain doesn’t overhear.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she whispers, her stubbornness evident.

I stifle a laugh at her defiance, but inside, I’m just grateful to feel her close again. We dive into the clear, blue water, and for a moment, the world goes quiet. It's so calming, and the view from down there something else. I swear I can hear Serena laugh, even if it's muffled by the water, and it’s like a balm to my soul. God, I’ve missed that sound.

After the dive, I lift her back onto the yacht, and I see the exhilaration in her eyes. She's glowing, and I want to make her this happy all the time. Her smile is so wide it nearly splits her face. She sits down, catching her breath, and I sit next to her, brushing a wet strand of hair away from her cheek. I admire her full lips and those big blue eyes. She’s fucking gorgeous.

“Did you enjoy it?” I ask.

“Yes,” she hums.

“I’m glad,” I say, feeling warmth spread through my body. “I had a sundress and sandals left out for you. Change into them, and we’ll have dinner on the beach.”

She nods and heads to the bathroom to change. After we both get dressed, we head back to the villa, where I have a romantic dinner set up. As we sit down to eat, I notice she’s pushing her food around the plate, not really eating.

“What’s wrong?” I probe.

She looks up from her plate with a sigh. “What do you feel for me, Salvatore?”

That’s the million-dollar question. I don’t know how to answer. “I... I don’t know,” I admit, feeling nauseous. The memories of my mother’s hands on me flood back, making me sick. They were everywhere, on my hair, on my stomach, on my dick. “I think I love you.” I gulp.

She sucks in a breath, looking away from me. She’s holding back her tears, and the sight tears at my heart.

“I don’t want someone who thinks he loves me,” she says, her voice trembling. “I need someone who knows. So everything you’re doing or will do will never be enough. It’s better you just stop.”

I sit there, feeling helpless as she pulls further away from me. I thought grand gestures, activities she loves, and her favorite meals could bridge the gap between us. But It’s about the one thing I can’t give her: the certainty of love.

“Serena,” I begin. “I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

She looks at me, her eyes hardening. “Loving me shouldn’t need any trying. If you did, it would come easy, you wouldn’t need to force it.”

I don't know what to tell her. Sharp stabs of pain pierce my heart. Her words are like a knife twisting inside my chest. She looks away, her voice steady but cold. “I want to go back to the mansion.”

Reluctantly, I nod. “Alright, let’s go.”

She stares out the window, lost in her thoughts, while I grip the steering wheel harshly. I try to think of what to say to rectify this, but no words come to mind.

When we arrive at the mansion, she shuts herself in the guest bedroom without a word. I stand there, glaring at the closed door, frustration boiling within me. I always get what I want. I can’t let this continue. My next plans are clear: I’ll be better for her. I’ll show her that I can change, that I can be the man she needs. And then, I’ll annihilate that fucking guest bedroom.