Page 64 of The Fixer

But a gut instinct warns me that’s not the reason she’s pulled back from me.

All this time, I’ve taken Rosa for granted. Herendless optimism, her good-humored nature, her ability to see the best in every situation. No matter how grouchy I was, Rosa always had a sunny retort. No matter how hard I tried to push her away, she was there at my side, a smile dancing in her eyes.

Now, she’s withdrawn into herself. She’s stopped asking me about my nightmares. It’s a logical reaction to my continued refusal to confide in her, yet it fills me with terror. My behavior is driving her away.

It strikes me for the first time that I could lose Rosa.

The nightmares don’t stop. I’m increasingly paranoid about Rosa’s safety, and I’ve doubled the guards on her, even though there’s no sign of danger.

I neglect work shamefully. Max Guerra has been in Venice for three days, and I’ve done nothing about it. I haven’t demanded that he meet with me and explain himself. I haven’t told him that Hugh Tran has no interest in talking to him. Rocco Santini declined our wedding invitation—he cannot risk leaving Lecce right now—and I barely registered it. Spina Sacra appears to be tearing itself apart. Lorenzo Corio, Santini’s former second-in-command and new son-in-law, appears to be doing his best to assassinate him. Santini’s daughter, Sienna, hasn’t been seen since the wedding. Romeo, his son andheir, is dead. He was on his way to the airport when his car exploded. Two other people were with him, the bodies burnt beyond recognition. That’s just the highlight reel. The entire region of Puglia is on the brink of an out-and-out civil war, and Valentina’s reports have more detail on what’s going on, but I haven’t read them.

Antonio is extremely worried about the situation. If I were doing my job properly, I would be too. We’re far away from Puglia in Venice, but this kind of instability has a way of spreading.

Instead, I’m obsessed with Rosa. I walk her every morning to her boutique, and I pick her up in the evening. I accompany her to her gym and prowl around the exterior until she’s done. I installed a tracker on her cell phone and even considered installing cameras in her sewing room to keep an eye on her when I’m not physically there to protect her.

But I refuse to tell her anything. I won’t tell her about Patrizia’s death; I won’t tell her the reason for my fear. No wonder she’s pulling away from me. If her brother’s safety didn’t depend on her going through with this marriage, she already would have left me.

And I’d deserve it.

A week before the wedding,Max Guerra sends me a message.

I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Meet me at Casanova tonight at ten.

I stare at my phone in utter disbelief. It’s seven days until my wedding, Rosa slips a little further away from me with each passing day, and now Guerra wants me to go to afucking sex club?Is he out of his mind?

This is your fault. Max Guerra suggested meeting at Casanova because you’re treating Rosa like she’s a business arrangement. Even worse, you’re treating her like she’s a business arrangement while sleeping with her. You’re acting like a complete asshole.

If I go to Casanova, that will be the nail in the coffin. I can kiss our relationship goodbye.

I stare at my phone for a long time and then get up to find Rosa.

32

ROSA

Am I miserable?God, yes.

Should I have a big, flaming row with Leo, where I confront him, tell him I know about his first marriage, and demand to know why he was keeping it a secret from me?

Also yes.

But fear keeps me silent. As we get closer to the wedding, Leo feels as brittle as glass, and that one wrong move from me will shatter him.

Or maybe I’m just afraid that if I push, he will leave me.

I can’t make myself confront him, but I’m still reeling, and it’s created a barrier between us. He’s still having nightmares, but when I try to get out ofbed, he won’t let me join him. “Stay in bed,” he says. “You need the sleep.”

And I hate it. I miss Leo. I miss our nightly snack sessions. I miss being close to him, saying outrageous things to make him laugh, and talking to him about everything under the sun. I have only one hope: once we’re married, the nightmares will stop, and things will go back to normal.

I cling to that hope with all my might. Because if it doesn’t happen, I don’t know if I can survive being married to Leo.

A week before the wedding,I’m putting the finishing touches on my dress when my mother calls. Oh God. My mom is stressed about every single detail of the ceremony and the reception. Last week, she was fretting about favors. Yesterday, she had opinions about the cake. It’s not just me she’s bugging; it’s also Violette. Our wedding planner insists my mother isn’t driving her insane, but I’m convinced she’s just being polite.

I quite seriously contemplate sending it to voicemail,but that would just postpone the inevitable. I pick up the call and put it on speaker. “Hello, m?.”

“I just saw the weather forecast,” she says. “There’s a thirty-five percent chance of rain. What are you going to do if there’s a storm?”

I knot off my thread and start to hem the satin with tiny invisible stitches. “The hotel will move us inside.”