In the shadow of Naples

14.

"Maria, that man is unbelievable!" My voice trembled with frustration as I twirled my fork through the pasta on my plate. "He really thinks I'm just going to fall into his arms because he says a few sweet words."

We were sitting in Maria's cozy pavilion, surrounded by the warm aroma of fresh Italian food. The table was a colorful display of flavors: crispy bruschetta, creamy pasta carbonara, roasted vegetables, and a basket of freshly baked bread. The open bottle of Chianti filled our glasses with ruby red wine, a perfect complement to the evening's atmosphere.

Maria looked at me, her eyes full of understanding. "Maybe he really likes you," she said softly, offering me a piece of focaccia.

I grimaced and took a bite. "That may be true," I said after a short pause, "but if you truly care about someone, you take the time to get to know her. You don't just try to get her into bed."

Maria nodded slowly, taking a sip of her wine and remaining silent for a moment. "You're right." "But the way he looks at you... it seems like he's genuinely interested."

I sighed, feeling the weight of memories I often tried to suppress rising to the surface again. "Maria, even if that's true... I'm still dealing with my last relationship."

Maria placed her hand on mine, a gesture of comfort that touched me more than I had expected. "What happened really hurt you, didn't it?"

I swallowed hard, my voice nearly breaking as I began to speak. "Five years, Maria." We were together for five years. And on our anniversary, he casually tells me that he's been having an affair for a year and a half. She's pregnant, and he's choosing her. "And to make it all worse, it's my sister."

Maria's eyes widened in shock. "You're kidding!" she said, her voice full of disbelief and sympathy. Before I could say anything, there was a loud thud behind me. Startled, I turned around, my heart racing. There stood Marcello and Giovanni, their faces tense and serious. Giovanni's fists were clenched, his entire posture radiating a menacing energy.

"Gio, come on," Marcello said in a calm but urgent tone. "We need to talk." He grabbed Giovanni's arm and pulled him away from me, but not before giving me a brief, apologetic glance. Giovanni kept his eyes on me, dark and filled with emotions I couldn't place. Something in his gaze stirred something inside me, a restlessness I couldn't ignore.

The rest of the dinner passed in silence, the atmosphere awkward, as if something important remained unsaid. After the meal, Maria suggested going to a movie with Giulia and Alessia, a lighthearted distraction after the intense emotions of the evening. We chose a romantic comedy, but while the others laughed, I found it hard to concentrate. My thoughts kept drifting back to what had happened earlier that evening.

When the movie ended, they offered to grab another drink, but I declined. "I'm tired after a long day at the hospital," I lied. In reality, I needed silence, a place to sort through my thoughts.

Instead of going home, I walked to the beach. Night had fallen, and the stars shone brightly in the sky, a dazzling blanket of light against the dark sky. Mount Vesuvius loomed in the distance, a silent, threatening presence. I walked along the shoreline, the cool sand refreshing against my bare feet. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the memories.

Suddenly, the quiet of the night was shattered by a loud bang. My heart skipped a beat, and I looked around in panic. A group of armed men stormed the beach, their faces obscured by shadows. Time seemed to stand still. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, another shot rang out. I felt a heavy impact, and before I could react, I was on the ground with a heavy body on top of me.

Giovanni.

He had used his body as a shield to protect me from the bullets that whizzed overhead. My breathing was fast and shallow, my heart pounding in my throat. Giovanni's face was tight with concentration, his eyes sharp and alert. He seemed entirely focused on me, as if nothing else existed in his world at that moment.

The gunfire stopped, and out of the shadows emerged figures I recognized as Giovanni's men. The threat disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. When everything was calm again, Marcello and Giovanni approached me.

"Are you okay, Bailey?" Marcello asked softly as Giovanni carefully helped me to my feet. My hands were trembling, my legs felt like rubber. All I could manage was, "Does Mia know anything about this?"

Marcello shook his head, his eyes filled with concern. "Bailey, please, don't say anything." "I want to protect my family."

My mind was spinning. The men had shot at beachgoers, just like that, and I didn't know what to think anymore.

Giovanni's face was a mask of icy rage. "We'll find out why this happened," he said in a dark, menacing tone.

"Marcello, take Bailey home," Giovanni commanded. I felt a mix of fear and exhaustion, too drained to resist. I just wanted to go home.

The ride home was silent. Marcello's grip on the steering wheel was firm, as if he was trying to keep his own fears in check. Once we arrived home, I thanked him softly and quickly stepped out. The door closed behind me with a soft click. Finally, I was alone, but the solitude brought no peace. It only brought more questions and a deeper awareness of the chaos my life had now become.