"Charles, I need you to come over to pick me up and get the plane ready," I tell my driver once he picks up.

I'm already throwing some stuff in a bag, something to have with me for a week or two.

"Where to, boss?"

"The States," I reply and hang up before I get a confirmation.

I have been waiting for a whole damn year for a sign, a word, something to tell me she hasn't completely forgotten me, and today, here is the sign.

She started writing again. I have been checking that damn app every fucking day, multiple times, hoping she would get back to that one insignificant thing for another maybe, but for us, it was the only link we actually had, her book.

Today is my day. Today is the day when I won't let things untouched, burying myself in my other dimension where I feed myself with memories of her beautiful eyes, the fresh scent of her skin, the orange flower smell of her hair, and pretend I'm happy.

I'm not happy. I used to think I'm lucky to be alive but what life is the one that I live, hidden and away, living almost every day a lie.

I never knew if her father told her where I was. We never spoke about her since the day he visited me first six months ago.

I found him in my living room one morning, sitting on the sofa with legs crossed and arms widely stretched on the backrest, holding a lit cigar with one hand and tapping nervously with the fingers of the other.

When I saw him my eyes moved instantly to my gun that was still laying on the coffee table where I left it the night before.

"Don't bother. I took the bullets out," he spoke sternly as if having another pair of fucking eyes at the back of his head. "Besides, I'm not here to kill. You're dead anyway and I..." he continued talking while standing up and walking around the sofa, coming closer to me, staring. "I prefer you stay dead."

"Is that so?" I replied while stepping down the last two stairs and walking to the mini-bar where I fixed two glasses of brandy.

"Why are you here, then?" I asked while offering him one glass.

He kept his stare hard on me, leaving me with my hand in the air before he decided to grab the glass and sip from the booze I offered.

"We have unfinished business, Don Raffa. The raid on my house, on my family...

"It wasn't me."

"I know. I know who wasn't. What I don't know is who was it. And that's what I intend to find out, with your help. None of us is safe before we get to the bottom of this," he concluded and sipped some more brandy. "My guys are searching for the shipment. I sent word to both Moroccans and Mexicans and asked for time to solve this shit. Of course, I had to pay nicely. Warranty money, as they say."

"How did you find them?"

"The Moroccans and Mexicans or the money?" he asked ironically.

"Fucking both. I'm sure it was not little money. I'll pay you back some of it," I offered.

"Don't need your money. Everybody thinks by now that you're dead and both parties looked happy to hear it. You're not very popular."

"I'm doing business, I'm not an influencer, so..." I stupidly replied sipping from my own booze and walking past him, still visibly limping.

"Wouldn't be bad to have a friend or two added to the ones that betrayed. Usually, they are the closest ones, right?" he said and I know he meant Fabio and most surely my father, Mario.

"So, what now?" I asked being damn sure he already had a plan.

Benito is anything, but stupid.

"Now, we investigate," he replied and took a sit on the sofa in the same spot where I found him earlier.

Truth be told, the moment I saw him in my house my mind was filled only with Mia. The only thing I wanted to know was about her.

I already knew where she was, where she lived, I knew everything about her but it wasn't the time for me to come out yet. I was not ready, not physically, not mentally, and judging by how much danger I had put her through, I wasn't sure if I should ever come out.

I'm not the boyfriend type, nor the husband. This is not who I am, and still, for Mia would burn the planet and lay the ashes at her feet.

Mia runs through my vein like the blood itself.

In a parallel world, an imaginary one, she was my woman, my heart, my sun, the joy to be alive and if I love her enough in this world, I have to keep her safe even if that means staying dead and away.

I took a deep breath while taking a sit on the armchair in front of Benito, silently chewing the excruciating pain I still had in my back and wiping the sweat on my palms to the fabric of the pants.

"What... what about..." I tried a question which soon was cut short by my visitor without a deadly threat in his tone.

"No! No fucking way, kid," he said lifting his steel black eyes and staring at me with madness. "No. Fucking. Way!"

And that was the last time I tried or he spoke anything to me about Mia.

A year passed since I got shot, cowardly in my back in the house of Benito. I was sure it would be my death and I did nearly die, and if weren't for my faithful Charles, my driver, who entered Benito's house during the raid and took me away to save my life, I would have been now laying two feet under, forgotten and burning in hell.

Not much different from where I am right now, hidden in my cabin in the woods, keeping an eye on my business from far through Charles and making no waves so I won't catch eyes on me.

It was crucial for our investigation to stay dead, as Benito wished. It served him well to keep me away from his daughter.

Fucking prick! I would never risk Mia, even if I lose my own life and he should fucking know it.

Nonna died while I was still immobilized in bed and it hurt so fucking much not being able to attend her funeral or see her one more time. She died knowing that I was shot and nothing more.

I forbade Charles to tell her anything about me and, smart as he is, he never said a word since he took me from the hospital and brought me here, till I opened my eyes and gave him my instructions.

He built a fucking hospital here, don't ask me how come a driver can be more faithful than the friend you grew up with, but I guess I was lucky. He paid nicely a team of doctors and nurses to look after me but my rehab lasted for too fucking long for my liking.

But today I'm like new, well enough to get back in the game and take what's mine.

And that's the revenge, to start with.

On the flight to the States, I kept on reading those two chapters again and again and poured whiskey into my system till it knocked me down, and woke up only when the plane was landing.

When I opened my eyes my brain felt as if pined with needles to my skull, and a headache struck right through.

Charles is standing in front of me, up straight and staring ahead with hands holding each other at the back, like a true solder.

I try to blink my headache away a few times, groaning deeply and unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I was going to, sir. I thought a few minutes more wouldn't hurt," he replies.

"Stop pampering, Charles. I'm good," I reply but I can only be grateful for this care.

He's a good guy and has proved to be faithful, maybe too faithful despite not seeing him earlier and giving him the recognition he deserves.

"It's time," I tell him and stand up to leave the plane ready to take back what is mine, well deserved or not.

My men got down first and took their places in the cars waiting for us on the runway.

First stop, Mia.

I send one car with my men to the rented villa, taking with me only Charles and one guard. I'm planning to stay hidden for the moment and too many of us will be too obvious. While on the way, Charles receives a call letting him know that the family is gathered at the graveyard for the funeral of Rebecca Tate and we turn the cars for the location.

The closer I get the higher my anxiety grows at the thought of seeing Mia with my own eyes, finally. I fancy myself making my way through the crowd of people and grabbing her hand, taking her with me or pulling my gun out and shooting any living or not living obstacle till the only one standing is her, making sure that no breathing thing will be alive to stop me and while these thoughts crowded into my brain I see her face in the smoke of the cigar I'm holding, smiling at me, staring at me with eyes filled with the joy-full sunlight and I can only hope her joy is the sight of me.

"We're here, sir," Charles says snapping me out of my other dimension and when I turn my eyes to the car's window I see people gathered around a freshly open grave and the coffin at their feet.

Benito is holding his sobbing wife with arms stretched around her shoulders offering her support while squeezing her tight and peppering kisses on her head.

Next to him, there's Julian, his son, the one I'm going to kill first, holding Mia's hand, ready to catch her should she fall.

One step in front of them stands Lucas Tate, a locker-like man, still vigorously looking and wearing a black suit with a black shirt and tie, evidently suffering, with his chest boosted in front and eyes staring to the coffin, all frown, with a stoned look of his face.

I've heard the stories of Lucas Tate, the one that defeated the NY mafia in his youth to save his wife by joining the mafia life himself and killing anybody who would stand in his way.

Then I know the stories of Benito, the Don that used to burn in the flames of hell for days after each killing he would do but never thinking twice before shooting bullets in the skull of any man that crosses his way if danger should arise.

These are the men Mia grew up with and I'm sure these are the man she will accept in her life, nothing less.

I can only wonder if I'm enough.

I take my fine time staring at her, my sunshine. From time to time she lifts her head and looks around as if searching for something, or someone, and each time the tears on her beautiful face sting my heart and pull my soul out.

I wish I could stand and run to her, grab her, and bury her in my chest, just like I did that day, shielding her and offering my own flesh to save her life.

"Should I send her word..." Charles tries to say.

"You'll send her nothing!" I hiss between clenched teeth. "Not yet..." I soften my tone.

I followed her every day around, dumbly staring at her while she buys fruits at the market, or flowers, riding her bicycle in the warmth of the island sun making her skin glitter.

Or sent Charles to watch every step she did and the news of her spending time doing things she enjoyed and relaxed her melted my heart and put it to rest.

I want her to be happy, I wished her joy and serenity even though not being there, giving her all of that made me mad to my core.

I'm suffering like a crippled dog missing her, but at least she is happy. That's all I want.

"You left your post," I tell Charles when he shows up in the room I've changed into a home office. A real home office, my kind of home office with darkness reigning around and smelling of cigars and whiskey.

"I wouldn't dare, sir. I have men watching her."

"Where?"

"At the beach," he replies and I snap my eyes at him, looking for the first time since he came in.

I feel my ears burning at the thought that men are watching her stripped in a bathing suit and I'm not there.

Charles approaches with a goofy smile and puts his phone on the desk, under my nose, showing me a picture.

My eyes widen in shock when I see my sunshine flying over the sea sitting on a surfing board strapped on a parachute.

"Che cazzo è questo?!" I mumble staring stupidly at the picture, my heart shrinking with fear for her. (What the fuck is this?!)

"It's called kitesurfing. It's a sport."

"Sport?! This is a fucking death wish," I reply and snap on my feet grabbing my suit jacket and determined to go right there and stop this insanity.

"Sir, don't go too close. Every day you go closer and closer. They'll see you, sir," he keeps warning me while trying to catch up with me.

I fetch the car keys from the table in the hallway and throw them back to him.

"You're driving!" I said and ran out of the house, right into the car, and made sure my gun is where it was supposed to be, glued to my ribs on the left.

I didn't speak a word on the way and happily, we drove only ten minutes before I can see the shores and Charles parked the car.

I waited no more and got out, running to the beach and ignoring the sand my Derby shoes were sinking in.

"Sir, please. She's not alone. There are men with her!" Charles is shouting and tries to stop me, grabbing my arm and pulling me back but I don't want to hear, I can't stop myself before seeing her next to the sun beds, removing the strings of the damn kite.

I push Charles away, forcing him to let me be and try to make my appearance from between the beach palms that keep me away from her a little below ten meters.

As if she knew I'm approaching, she lifts her head in my direction and turn my back, freezing.

How stupid I was to believe she wouldn't recognize even a strand of my hair.

"Raffa..." she spells my name with dread in her tone and I squeeze my eyes tightly, battling between turning around and melting till death in the kiss I've yearned for a year or walk away and make her believe she imagined.

"Sir..." Charles mumbles, looking at me and waiting for orders but I decide to not run away, a decision I take while staring back at him and making him understand he needs to watch and be ready. The men of Benito will not be idle.

I breathe deeply and clench my fists till my knuckles become paper white and turn around, looking at my sunshine staring at me with shock in her eyes mixed with disappointment floating in tears.

"Why...? How?" she mumbles stupidly instead of dropping everything and running into my arms where she fucking belongs.

Why the fuck she stays frozen and more importantly, why do I feel her distant?

Before I have the chance to get why and how I hear a gun jam sound behind me, knowing for sure it is Charles's, and then someone I would have never thought to see here comes close to Mia, with a gun in his hand pointed at me while with the other he delicately grabs Mia waist pulling her to him and planting a kiss on her temple.

"Hello... Don Raffa," he greets with a defying smile while he dares to breathe the air around my woman and touch her skin with his still-alive body, way too fucking close to hers.

Because I swore, right then and there that I would kill him the first chance I have.

"Michelle Parma, the lizard," I greet in my turn with my eyes still locked with Mia's in a stare I don't dare to break, fearing she won't give me the chance to another.

~~~~~
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