Authors: K. Larsen
May 2014
~ Matteo ~
Matteo hated that she wore the old locket. It seemed to be a part of her, to echo her heartbeat against her skin. It hung just above the swell of her breasts. It had no permission to hang there so close to her heart. It shone in the light from the window brilliantly. He gritted his teeth.
His thoughts quickly turned stormy.
“Madison visited with Annabelle,” Cece practically chirped. He lifted his gaze and ran fingers through her long hair, massaging her scalp. She shifted. Soft lips pressed to the hollow of his throat before she laid her head back on his chest. “Who is Madison?” he asked.
“Belle’s best friend. She’s not exactly what I would call a good choice in the friend department though. It seems their friendship is based on a rather superficial foundation.”
“This is important why?”
he asked.
“She told me about Brant.” He felt a shudder run through her body. His hand drifted between them until it reached hers, their fingers linking. That day had been especially dark. Nothing could have prepared him for the disaster that she was after it had happened. He was supposed to be there with her for that task but in a fit of blind rage she’d gone from simply observing to acting. It was a burden he couldn’t shoulder for her no matter how hard he tried.
“It destroyed her. Belle found him. All those questions we had. All those unanswered questions were laid bare for me.”
Matteo hated sitting on the sidelines. Doing nothing but waiting while she took the brunt of this last leg of the journey.
“And . . .” he pushed.
“And although it wasn’t meant to happen quite the way it did,” she tilted her face upward to meet his eyes, “the result was exactly right.”
“Cece.”
“Teo, I’m fine. It was good to hear it - to get closure,” she said. His eyes dropped to her mouth, that smile, those lips he wanted on him.
“How is it? Sitting with her, face to face? Building a relationship?”
Cece thought for a moment. “Odd. I try so hard to be distant but she’s a bright girl you know. She’s so lost in her life. Gabriel and Monique have truly done a number on her. Putting her down will actually put her out of her misery. It’s almost a blessing,” she smirked at him.
“I can do this for you. I would. You know that right?”
“Teo. I don’t need you to. You’ve done so much. Loved so thoroughly. You are the light that keeps me sane.”
“My hands are just as dirty as yours fiore mio,” he countered earnestly.
“Your hands are as clean as I could keep them, and that is how I’d like them to stay. We are so close now. I want those hands to whisk me away when this is over - give me a real life. A meaningful life of marriage and love and days growing old happily together.”
Matteo scoffed, mocking offense. “I’ve not done that thus far?”
She stretched her neck up and kissed him, biting his lip playfully. “You’ve done that and so much more.”
He stilled. “My moon, kiss me like that again.”
“My tide - forever.”
He kissed her in the sensitive spot below her ear and heard her breath hitch. Rolling her onto her back he hovered over her. He took his time as he kissed her face, her neck, her throat, her clavicle, stopping only to look into her eyes.
~
***
~
Matteo sat in the kitchen at the table eating take-out. They’d only intended on being apart for a month, tops. Cece’s change in plan was difficult for him. Six months felt never-ending. Through all the years they had lain in wait together. Planning meticulously how to go about everything and now he was alone, out of the loop most of the time while she was there with the Devil’s daughter. He now had to rearrange his end of the plan as well. He had watched the man’s comings and goings for months previously but now he had to find a new day and time to take him. He sighed and rubbed the backs of his hands over his eyes.
Matteo wanted to visit more but they’d both agreed it would be too dangerous. They needed to maintain as low a profile as possible, still. He couldn’t be the man that people recognized visiting her daily. Infrequent was best, even if difficult.
Matteo trudged to the fridge, grabbed a beer and cracked it open. He retired to the living room for the remainder of the evening, leaving his dirty plate on the table for another time. Cece would chastise him for it if she were there. He flipped through the pages in her journal until he found the entries from 1996.
~
***
~
1996 - Spain
There was a memorial service for me. It’s been so long now that no one holds out hope that I am coming back . . . or alive. Matteo went. Asked if anyone had contacted Mara. No one had, they couldn’t find her current contact information. Gabriel didn’t speak to him. Refused actually, so Matteo said. Made some sort of scene and left early. It struck me as odd until Matteo finished his tale. He drove by my old house. Gabriel’s house. Monique was in the living room window. Holding an infant. Waving her free hand through the air clearly angry at something. Hurt rips through me when I think of it.
I don’t want Teo to see me crying, to see me weak, so I keep my tears in.
That night in our adorable Spanish cottage Matteo lay in bed with me, traced my scar. It made me shiver. He asked my wishes, that I say out loud all my darkest desires. He promised no judgment. I talked of ripping apart Gabriel’s life. Of being cunning and calculating and slowly stripping him of all he cherishes. Matteo asked how. To really dig deep, dive into the fantasy and get it all out. My tongue moved without thought, words tumbled from my mouth. Gabriel’s career. Gabriel’s child. Gabriel’s relationship. All must go. All must be destroyed. A tense moment passed between us. Matteo stared so deeply into my eyes that I thought for sure he could see the seed of fury that grows inside me. I thought for sure he would see the depths of hell reflected in my eyes. He kissed the tip of my nose. He smiled. He said ‘How would you go about that?’ and without hesitation I rattled off ideas. Suddenly, I feel like a newborn.
Vulnerable and exposed.
Covered in deceitful stickiness.
I fell asleep the next afternoon. When I woke, I was sweaty. Guilty. The constant push and pull of desire and restraint warring inside me. I want so badly to be able to hold on to it. Love is powerful. It can heal, it can lift - it can also drag you down into the depths of hell and burn you until you’re no longer
recognizable
. So I must be careful with my heart.
And that next evening, I kissed Matteo.
I did it.
I was aching. Lingering in the past like a fool. I blew on the window and drew in the fog and this whole world opened up right before my eyes. Matteo made my life right, light. I took a leap. I stepped forward, closed the gap between our bodies, stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. He didn’t pull away from me.
His hands on my hips. My kiss on his lips. I didn’t want the moment to end. And it struck me, I could do this forever. His love, his commitment, it saved me. When I lost it, he held my hand. And he rushed to me and it set us free. He’s my fault. My weakness. Is it a sin that I want Matteo so badly? My name on his lips, my sweat on his skin?
~
***
~
Night arrived shrouding the world in darkness. The moon had been the only light. He had seen the storm set in Cece’s eyes. And right there curled up together as she spoke they tumbled and fell. Mountains had crumbled to the sea. The fighting was over. Through the storm they reached the shore, together. She didn’t cry. Whatever made her happy, whatever she wanted he would provide. He vowed silently to be whatever Cece needed—whenever. Matteo remembered that day clearly. His memory needed no help to conjure the events that led to that halcyon moment.
She drew a broken heart shape in the fog on the window pane. Matteo had trudged up the stairs, a bag of groceries under one arm, and seen the heart. He drew a question mark in the fog. She sadly half-smiled through the cloudy window at him. He set the bag down under the small portico and exhaled a great breath against the glass. He drew a heart opposite her broken one. Then he drew a sad looking bridge between the two, from his side to hers. Right then he wanted to hold on to the feeling that coursed through him at her expression. He placed his bet on them, on Cece and himself. He picked up the bag and went inside. She watched him as he set the bag on the counter before approaching her.
“I’ll cross over Cece. I’ll come to you and we’ll repair your heart together.” His hand cupped her cheeks. He meant what he said. And right then, plain as day in her eyes, he knew his feelings for her were returned.
Their first kiss. Matteo recalled it vividly. That divine moment when all the walls came down. When their friendship blossomed into something he’d dreamed about for years. He had felt like he owned the world the moment his lips pressed against hers. There were no words to accurately describe what it felt like. What it made him feel. This woman, this friend knew his soul. She was his other half and he had always known it. He’d long ago been convinced that his only option to keep her in his life was to be happy for her and to be her friend. The torture of that reality had been excruciating. He’d watched passively as she dated Gabriel. As she said yes to his proposal. As she walked down the aisle to marry him. As she struggled, as she soared - he was there for it all, and it had been devastating. There were times he pushed her away, times he’d considered coming clean to profess his feelings but he hadn’t. They were young. She came from a different lifestyle than he. There were other pressures of course and if she said no, he wouldn’t have even had her friendship. No. He had never risked it.
Everything had changed when Dr. B died. When they discovered truths they weren’t supposed to and in the end, when he’d saved her. He waited as she recovered. As she warred with herself, with her guilt, her fury and her heartbreak. And then, then he’d waited some more. The tension between them that first year together had grown to epic proportions. When those soft, supple lips he’d dreamed about met his he knew he’d never let them go back to anything less than lovers.
“You have no idea how many nights I’ve lain awake imagining this moment . . . what it would feel like to have you in my bed, my arms. I want your lips on me, your hands. I want to taste you . . . savor you . . . devour you fiore mio. I’ve
lusted for so long.
”
Her eyes had darkened at his words. And in those next seconds she’d made his dreams come true. Cece had leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs and arms around him. Clung to him desperately. They couldn’t get close enough. They couldn’t go fast enough. He’d
let out a low groan, his kiss grew urgent and hungry. Her reciprocation, just as hungry. Any space between their bodies had been too much.
They had been starved and had devoured each other time and time again that night. He’d whispered to her in Italian all the emotions he’d kept from her over the years. She’d cried and laughed and come so hard he was sure the windows were shattered from her scream.
It was after that he watched his soul-mate rise from the ashes of devastation and betrayal and become someone else. Someone he helped cultivate. For as much as he wanted Celeste, he wanted Gabriel to pay for the destruction and pain he’d caused. He stepped into Cece’s hate-fire willingly, stoking the spark of revenge until a fire roared. It wasn’t just Cece who changed - it had been him as well.
~
***
~
1996 - Spain
My tears may be dried up now, but the heart never forgets. Just as entire can forests burn to the ground and eventually grow again, whatever I suffered, I kept on growing. There was a rip, a tear in the fabric of my life that won’t ever be completely mended. But memories that let in both the darkness of the Hell and the bright celestial light comfort me. I can let my pains bleed for a while yet still be open to the many joys in my life. I am grateful for the pain because I’ve learned from it.
These emotions are beautiful, the weakness that comes after suffering. The conviction that follows after grief, and the rousing to love again.
Anonymous packages began arriving at local news stations in France. Letters. Photographs. Details about the renowned biochemist Gabriel Fontaine. Stories started running on television and in the papers. Biochemist testing on human subjects. “Respected biochemist, Gabriel Fontaine working with CIA.” “Infidelity afoot in unsolved biochemist’s wife case.”
It’s funny to see my own words appear in the news. Gratifying really. I sat back and found myself smiling as week by week Gabriel made the papers. And wouldn’t you know it . . . he’s vanished. No one can find him. Consequently, no one can find Monique either. Shamed. Shunned. Embarrassed. I imagine they are all of those things now. I don’t care where he’s gone to. Not really. His career’s been killed. Exposed. All those years and years of research for naught. I find myself smiling at the thought.
Delighted.
I’ve had dreams recently. I’m trapped in a room. It’s always unfocused. Gabriel’s voice on the other side of the door taunts me. But unlike my old dreams, in this one, when I open my eyes and blink the pixels away and look around, I’m in a nursery. But I am a snake. There’s a baby. Silky and new. I slither around it, pulling it close to my chest, to my heart. Monique’s voice rings out over Gabriel’s and when I look down, the infant doesn’t belong to me. Shock rips through me. Suddenly the tiny infant’s eyes turn black and cold. The longer I look at the baby, the less I feel, until I’m just a person again and I’m holding the baby out the window and letting go. And I’m laughing and careless as Gabriel and Monique’s screams fill the space around me.