Chapter 48 Bittersweet
ARYA’S POV
I was still kneeling on the ground, holding Christabel close and breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo, when I heard footsteps approaching from behind.
Matteo's voice cut through our reunion. "Mrs. De Santis."
I looked up, reluctantly loosening my grip on Christabel, and froze.
Three guards I had never seen before stood behind Matteo. Their faces were stern and my eyes immediately caught on the guns holstered at their hips.
They were not even attempting to conceal it.
A cold feeling settled in my stomach and I stood slowly, instinctively putting myself between these armed strangers and Christabel.
"What's going on?" I asked Matteo.
His expression was unreadable as always, but something about the way he looked at me was different.
"Mr. De Santis has arranged accommodations at a nearby hotel," he said. "I'll be escorting you and your family there. You'll wait until this evening, when Mr. De Santis will join you for dinner."
My father's snort of disgust was immediate. "Accommodations? Or you mean a prison. How thoughtful of him."
"Robert," my mother warned, but she did not sound happy either.
She turned to Matteo, her chin lifted in that way she had when she was fighting to maintain dignity. "Are we supposed to be locked up like animals all day? We came here to see our daughter, not to be herded around by armed guards."
I felt my anxiety spike. "I wasn't… I didn't know about this," I said quickly, looking between my family and the guards. "Giovanni said I could spend the day with you. He didn't mention any of this-"
"It's for everyone's safety," Matteo interrupted, but there was no warmth in his tone. I wondered where the man who had retrieved my lipgloss had gone.
Something was wrong. Matteo was never chatty, but this was different, and I couldn't understand what had changed.
"Matteo," I said, moving closer to him. "Can we talk for a second? Privately?"
He looked down at me, not moving an inch. "There's nothing to discuss, Mrs. De Santis. The arrangements have been made."
"But Giovanni said-“
"Mr. De Santis gave very specific instructions." He interrupted again.
The way he used Giovanni's full title sent alarm bells ringing through my head. What was happening? What had Giovanni planned that he hadn't told me about?
Before I could press further, Marco stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Look," he said. "Let's not make this harder than it needs to be. Mr. De Santis allowed all of us to come here, which we all know he didn't have to do." He glanced at my father meaningfully. "Maybe we should just... cooperate. For now."
My father's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.
Marco turned to Matteo. "Can we at least go out for gelato or something? We haven't seen Arya in months. Surely Mr. De Santis wouldn't object to a simple ice cream outing?"
"Please," I added quickly, hating how I sounded like I was begging. "Just an hour or two. We'll stay close and we won't cause any problems."
Matteo was silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning our group before settling on me.
"Fine," he said finally. "But I stay with you the entire time and we return to the hotel by three o'clock. No exceptions."
"Thank you," I breathed.
We all moved to the lines of cars waiting for and ai assumed we would all ride together but Matteo had other ideas.
"Mrs. De Santis rides with me," he announced. "The rest of you will follow in the second vehicle."
"That's ridiculous," I protested. "They're my family. I want to go with them.”
"Only your sister may ride with you," Matteo said, his tone gave no room argument. "Mr. De Santis's orders."
My father looked like he wanted to argue, but my mother placed a hand on his arm. Marco gave me a look that said ‘pick your battles.’
So Christabel climbed into my car, practically vibrating with excitement, while the rest of my family was shepherded into a black SUV behind us.
"Is Italy always this pretty?" Christabel asked the moment we started moving, pressing her face against the window. "Do you live here now? Is your house big? Can we see it? Does Giovanni-" she stumbled over his name, “… does he have a pool?"
"Slow down," I said with a laugh that felt forced even to my own ears. "One question at a time."
"But I have so many questions!" She turned to me, her eyes bright. "Marco said you're married now. Like, really married with a wedding and everything. Was it pretty? Did you wear a white dress? Did you get to eat cake?"
"It was..." I struggled for words that wouldn't hurt her. "It was complicated, sweetie. Very grown-up stuff that's hard to explain."
"Mom cried a lot when you left," Christabel said, her mouth turning down into a pout. "And Dad got really quiet and scary. Marco spent all his time on the phone or in meetings. Everyone was so sad."
Guilt twisted in my stomach. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"It's okay. You're here now." She grabbed my hand and squeezed. "That's what matters, right?"
I wished I could believe it was that simple.
We arrived at the hotel and the place was beautiful in a breathtaking way, with golden chadeliers and statues of Greek gods greeting us at the entrance.
My parents were escorted to their suite in a way made it clear they weren't to leave without permission.
"This is absolutely ridiculous," my father muttered as the guards positioned themselves outside the door. "Being treated like prisoners in our own daughter's life."
"Robert, please," my mother said tiredly. "Let's just... let's just make the best of it."
When they were settled, or as settled as two people under house arrest could be, Marco, Christabel, and I were cleared to leave for our ice cream outing.
"Just the three of you?" my father asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.
"And Matteo," I said, gesturing to where the guard waited by the door.
"Wonderful. A chaperone for my own daughter." He scoffed with a shake of his head.
I frowned. "Dad."
"It's fine. Go and enjoy your supervised freedom."
The bitterness in his voice stung, but what could I say? He wasn't wrong.
The three of us took the elevator downstairs and outside, the Italian sun was warm and bright.
Marco pulled out a folded piece of paper, smoothing it out with a grin that made him look younger.
"I made a list," he announced. "All the things we're going to do in Italy together. Gelato is just the first stop."
I looked at the list, recognizing his neat handwriting, and felt tears prick at my eyes.
"How long have you been planning this?" I asked, looking back at him.
"Since the day he took you," Christabel piped up immediately. "Marco went crazy. He was like a detective, making all these plans and calling people and-"
Marco's hand clamped gently over her mouth. "Thank you, Christabel. That was very helpful."
She pushed his hand away, giggling. "It's true! You did lose your mind."
"I missed you," I said simply, looking at Marco then at Christabel. "Both of you so much."
Marco pulled me into a hug. "I missed you too," he murmured into my hair. "Every single day."
Christabel wormed her way between us, creating a three-person hug that made me laugh through my tears.
"Ahem."
Matteo's voice cut through the moment. "We need to get going if you want to make it back on time."
"He must be fun at parties," Christabel muttered, just loud enough for us to hear.
Marco snorted. I couldn't help but laugh, and even Matteo's lips twitched.
But as we started walking toward the Mercedes waiting for us, I couldn't shake the unease that had settled over me since the airport.
Giovanni had given me a day with my family but it came with so many conditions making me wonder what he was planning.
And why did I have the sinking feeling that this reunion was going to cost more than I realized?