The Italian

Sorrento. What a magical place.

I smile as the sea breeze whips my hair, and I gaze over at the breathtaking view.

The cliff face is covered with beautifully colored old buildings, and at the bottom, a deep shade of turquoise blue, is the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Perched high up above, I’m standing on the balcony of my room at the iconic Grand Hotel Capodimonte.

The room has a timeless feel, like something you would see in an old Hollywood movie. There’s Terrazzo tiled floors, luxurious bedding and furniture, and big white windows that swing open so that you can gaze over at the priceless view.

Wow, Natalie really got this booking right. This is a lot better than the hotels I’ve been staying at. I should have got her to organize my entire trip. She got this for a steal too.

Natalie and I grew up in Sydney together. She lives in London now. I miss her desperately, even though we speak nearly every day on Facebook. Her flight arrives here in Sorrento this afternoon. This is our much-anticipated two-week holiday together. She couldn’t come for the entire time, but we swung it so she could meet me here for the remaining leg of my trip.

I take a seat on the balcony and smile to myself.

I can’t believe the weekend I just had.

I pick up my phone and scroll through the photos of Rico and I together when we were sightseeing in Rome.

I look so happy. My hair is tussled, I have no makeup on, and I look flushed. Enrico is laughing in every image. I run my finger over his face. What a beautiful specimen he is. It’s been a long time since I’ve been happy… really happy.

I’m twenty-seven, and I guess I’d kind of given up on men. Lately, I get more enjoyment out of a tub of chocolate ice cream. I was preparing myself to buy an apartment on my own—getting a cat and some potted plants. Work and the gym would probably be my only social life. I was easing myself into the next phase of my life, alone.

I wasn’t unhappy. I was just… existing.

As if sensing my despair, Natalie talked me into taking this trip and meeting her here.

I’m so glad I did.

Now, my hunger for adventure has been reignited. I want to travel and go to exotic places. I want to get that dream job I had given up on, and damn it, I want my very own dream man.

I’m a good girl. I deserve a good man.

What if he’s in Italy?

That’s drastic, even for a good man. Even for the best man.

Could I really give up my Australian home to live here?

I have my job that I love, and I don’t want to give that up. I worked too damn hard to get it. But then, I did always want to work with a fashion designer in some shape or form.

Apart from my job, I don’t really have anything holding me there. My social life is non-existent, my best friend lives on the other side of the world, and my parents are both dating imbeciles.

Ferrara’s marry for life.

Enrico’s words come back to me along with my goofy smile. Why do I smile like this every time I think of him?

I’m not going to get excited about it. We only spent three days together… but what an amazing three days they were.

In actual fact, these two weeks away from him is the worst possible timing ever. If only I could have spent the time with him instead.

Stop it, don’t get ahead of yourself. It was just one weekend.

I stand and take some photos of the beautiful view, and I send one to Enrico with the text:

Arrived safely.

Wish you were here.

Olivia.

I smile as I imagine him reading it. He’s probably at work now and won’t get it till later. I’m going to go for a swim in that beautiful pool down there.

I change into my bathers and grab my sunhat. I leave my room, looking for adventure.

Life is good. Really good.

“To us.” Natalie clicks her glass with mine as she beams happiness across the table.

“To us.” I giggle. “Can you believe we’re here?”

“No.” She grabs my hand. “It’s so good to see you, Liv. I miss you.”

“I know. Me, too.”

We’re on the large balcony of our hotel having dinner. After Nat’s flight, we thought we would take it easy tonight. The tables are lit with candles, and the cliff is alive with twinkling lights from the buildings. The sound of the ocean is loud as it crashes against the cliff face.

“So?” I cut into my chicken. “Tell me everything. How’s London?”

“Yeah, it’s good.” She chews her food. “The weather is atrocious, though.”

I’ve never been to London. “It’s just raining all the time? Every Aussie goes on about how bad the weather is over there.”

“It’s overcast every day. The sun is hardly ever out. It gets depressing after a while. I’m so used to eight hours of sunshine every day, all year long.”

“Well, it could be worse. Cold is better than hot as Hell, right?”

She laughs. “I guess.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Tell me about your trip.”

I smile proudly. “I met someone.”

“What?”

“In Rome.”

“And?”

“And we had the best sex of my life all weekend long.”

She puts her hands over her mouth. “You? Had sex with a stranger?”

I laugh at her shock. “Not just any stranger. God’s gift to women.”

“Fuck off.”

I laugh. “Yes.” I get out my phone, go to the photos, and pass it over to her. “His name is Enrico Ferrara.”

“Sounds so exotic.” Her eyes bulge as she sees the photos of him. “What the fuck?”

“Gorgeous, right?”

“Jesus.” She scrolls through the images. “Gorgeous doesn’t cut it.”

“He’s a policeman.”

She puts her hand on her heart. “Oh, please, it gets better.”

“And he took me to The Pantheon and told me he thinks our story isn’t over.”

She frowns as she listens.

“You know I have nothing holding me in Australia now.”

She holds up her hand. “Woah… slow down girl.”

“I know it sounds crazy—”

“Because it is. You don’t even know this guy.” She hands my phone back in disgust.

“Don’t wreck this for me by being all sensible.”

“Oh God, Liv.” She sighs. “Someone has to think clearly around here. It doesn’t sound like you are.” We eat in silence for a moment. “Sorry. I’m being a bitch. Tell me about your weekend with him.”

I smile sadly, hating that she’s not as excited as I am. “It was just really great, you know? We connected, and it wasn’t just because of the awesome sex.”

“The sex was awesome?”

I put my hands on my forehead and then fake an explosion in the air with my fingers. “Mind blowing.”

She smiles.

“And I’m not moving here, I’m…” I shrug and my voice trails off.

She watches me intently. “What?”

“My life is shit back home. I’m boring and comfortable and I’ve always done the safe things in life. Where has it got me until now?”

“This is true.” She sips her wine.

“Maybe this trip is to teach me about myself.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re not getting all, Love, Eat, pray on me, are you?”

I giggle. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you should go to Bali, take up yoga and fuck the gorgeous guy in that movie like Julia did.”

I laugh. “My guy is better.”

Her eyes hold mine. “I’m just saying… be careful, that’s all.” She grabs my hand over the table. “I don’t want you to get all attached to and then hurt by a guy on the other side of the world who you think you know. Not all men are like your ex-boyfriends, Liv. This Enrico could be a huge player. Probably is if he looks like that.”

“I know.” I sigh, saddened by her reality check.

“Look.” She shrugs with a smile. “Actions speak louder than words and I could be completely wrong. Maybe he’s great and this could work out.”

“I’m not getting excited. I know what you’re saying is right. I’m going back to Rome to spend the weekend with him before I fly home, so I’ll see what happens then.”

She smiles broadly. “Good, take it slow. There’s no rush.”

“I am.”

“Has he called you today?”

“He’s working.” I rearrange my napkin on my lap. “I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

I sip my wine as I try to act casual. Why hasn’t he called me back? An annoying little alarm bell goes off in the back of my brain. I was sure he would have called me back by now.

“So, what are we going to do tomorrow?” she asks.

I smile up at her. “Everything.”

Enrico

The red embers glow in the dark and a sporadic crack signifies the wood’s demise. I stare at the flames of the fire with my two brothers beside me.

Shocked, that’s what we are.

We’re heartbroken that our father and grandfather have left us. We’re horrified at what we’ve found out about our family history. We don’t even know who we are anymore.

“Everything is a lie.” Matteo sighs sadly as he tips his head back and drains his beer.

“You must have known.” Andrea frowns as his eyes come to me accusingly. “How could you have not known? You’re a fucking cop, for Christ’s sake.”

“I heard whispers, but when I asked, I was told it was from jealousy—that people always think the worst of successful people. That all money must be bad, and the businesses were… are now all legitimate, except for a few gambling houses.”

We fall silent again, lost in our own thoughts.

I drag my hand down my face. I’m exhausted—too tired to think, and too tired to focus on anything other than how fucked up this all is.

Francesca, our sister, walks in and sit beside me. She’s beautiful, with long dark hair and porcelain skin. She’s much fairer than her brothers but with the same brown eyes. I put my arm around her and pull her close. “You okay, baby?”

“Not really.” Her tear-filled gaze falls to the fire.

I hold her close. “Where’s Mamma?”

“Inside.” Her eyes find mine. “Are we going to be all right, Rico… without Dad?”

My heart sinks and I hold her closer. “Of course, angel. I’ll make sure of it. You’re safe, I’ll look after us now. I’m here. Lean on me.”

She holds me as she cries, and I close my eyes to my own pain.

The four of us, the Ferrara children, sit around the fire, and we weep.

I sit at the table wearing my black suit. I’m waiting for my mother to get ready for her husband’s funeral.

The house is deadly silent.

When my father passed, he left a hole.

His jovial laughter is missing—his wise face, too. His deep voice and the way that he made everyone around him feel loved have gone.

His strength.

He’s deeply missed, and I am empty.

I have nothing left to offer. Grief is all I can see.

Lorenzo has stepped up and taken over for us. He’s caring for our family, easing our pain as much as he can.

My mother is quiet, pensive, and barely holding it together. The pain on her face is unbearable.

Francesca is heartbroken and won’t speak at all. When she does, it’s through her tears. She’s only fifteen years old—way too young to be left without a father. I die a little inside every time I look at her.

“Your mother is nearly ready,” Lorenzo says behind me.

I nod, the lump in my throat hurting. “How do we do this?”

Lorenzo falls into the chair beside me and closes his eyes. He, too, is in pain.

“How do we say goodbye?” I whisper.

“We put one foot in front of the other and do what we need to do.”

“Then what?”

His eyes rise. “We avenge their deaths, Enrico,” he whispers. “We have the names. We know who is responsible. Let us take them out.”

His profile is blurred as I stare at him through tears.

“We can’t go forward without your lead, son.”

I drop my head, defeated. “I can’t take over. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, you can… and in time, you will. Give us the go-ahead to take care of this, Enrico, I’m begging you.”

We’ve had this conversation every day now. He won’t give up. Hunger for revenge is his only goal. I drag my hands through my hair in despair. My father’s men want to start a war. They want my approval to kill the men responsible for their deaths.

I’m the only one who can give it, but I know that once I consent, I’m agreeing to taking over. To this lifestyle. To turning into something I despise.

The Don, leader of darkness.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I glance down. The name Olivia lights up the screen and my heart constricts. My beautiful angel. The only person I do want to see is the one that I can’t. I put my phone back into my pocket. I can’t speak to her right now. Not until I’m stronger. If I do, I’ll cry like a baby.

I don’t want her to feel my pain through the phone, because she would. She’s so in tune with me that I couldn’t hide my heart from her. I’m not whole anymore.

When my father died, he took a piece of me with him.

The best part.

He took my belief that I was good.

I stand and stare at the coffin as it sits in the ground. Dark rosewood against dirt.

My father is inside.

Cold and lifeless.

My mother’s soft sobs can be heard beside me. My brothers huddle together in their united grief.

Francesca’s hand is in mine. She won’t let me go.

We’ve already buried my grandfather, now it’s Dad’s turn.

In a daze, I look around and see the thousands of men surrounding us, crying.

They’re mourning their leaders. They’re pledging their allegiance to us, the Ferrara’s.

These men have been loyal to the death.

The priest passes us all a red rose, and I watch on as my mother, with tears streaming down her face, kisses the rose and bends to place it on my father’s coffin.

Adrenaline begins to surge through me.

Why?

I hold Francesca’s hand as she sobs out loud. My heart breaks watching her. She kisses the rose and bends to copy my mother. She puts her head down, leans onto the coffin, and she begins to sob. I bend and pick her up to hold her tight.

A strange detachment falls over me as we go through the processes one by one.

It’s like I’m not even here anymore—as if I’m watching from up above.

Twenty minutes later, with the funeral over and a swell of well-wisher’s kissing my family, I look over to Andrea and Matteo, and I nod.

It’s time.

They frown in question.

“I need to do this.”

They nod, realizing exactly what it means.

I walk over to Lorenzo. “Can I have a moment?”

“Yes, son.”

My eyes hold his. “I want it to be painful,” I whisper. “I want them to suffer.”

He smiles darkly. “You have my word.”

“Bring their hearts to me in a box.”

He clenches his jaw and nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Start the fucking war.”