Page 104 of The Strength Of A Woman

We kill. We fuck. We joke. We dance. We get married and love our children. Sometimes, our wives.

We do everything at speed, without dwelling much.

So, truly, it doesn’t surprise me that they have such a good time not far from where, a couple of hours ago, a pile of black bags occupied the center of the courtyard.

“What’s up, Boss?” he asks in a good mood, reading my eyes, as if aware of what just happened upstairs.

“We need to move house. Security reasons,” I say, lifting a clean glass from a tray and pouring myself a drink. “We’re going outside town.”

“I know a place.”

“That’s the place I have in mind, too.”

We both know that particular villa on fifteen hectares, a rural property outside town. It’s surrounded by vineyards, trees, and a vast terrain. We can spot potential dangers from a distance.

Multiple houses in that compound offer the best living conditions for us.

The interiors have been updated.They’re luxurious. The garden is magnificent. And the pools are a pleasure to be in.

I looked at it when I considered purchasing property in Sicily.It wasn’t clear to me why I’d do that, but now everything starts to make sense.

“It’s still on the market. I already checked,” I say. “The owner is willing to sell it to me at a discount if I make up my mind. And I might.”

I realize that they’re all silent as I put out everything that’s consuming me.

“All right,” I say and take a swig. “At ease, boys. We’re moving to amazing quarters. Just ask Cosimo,” I say, and winkat them before going back into the house, musing over what an eventful day this has been.

18

LEILANI

“Everything’s fine,”I say, talking to Rory on the phone.

Setting my clothes on hangers, I’m taking in the amazing vistas around the property––the view of Etna is amazing.

What an emotional day yesterday was. And what a beautiful day today is.

It’s like I’ve stepped into a different life.

Last night ended on a sad note.

I don’t know what made me ask him to do that. Clearly, there was no way it could work.

There were no good feelings afterward, only pain and despair. I felt filthy for even bringing it up.

Why, to this day, do I still feel responsible for what happened to me?

He handled it maturely, recognizing it for what it was.

A futile ploy to remove something that couldn’t be removed.

And then I felt guilt again. And I was afraid that I had ruined things for us.

Midnight hours were filled with dread.

I was convinced he was mad at me, and it took such an effort to stay in my room––lying in bed and staring at the ceiling––and not to put on some clothes, run out, find him, and beg him to forgive me.

Our time together was so memorable before I ruined it––I thought.