Chapter Twenty-Four-Three More Days-Enzo
1867 Words
Four days.
Four f*****g days.
That was how long I had been in the States.
The trip was supposed to be seven days.
Seven.
When I had first left Palermo, I thought it would be easy.
Handle the business.
Meet the investors.
Fix the supplier problems.
Settle the disagreement between the families.
Then get on a plane and go home.
Simple.
At least, that was what I had told myself.
It wasn’t simple.
Nothing was ever simple when it involved my family.
Or money.
Or blood.
Or power.
Especially when all three were involved at the same time.
I sat at the end of the conference table, staring at the men sitting across from me.
Nobody was speaking.
Nobody dared to.
My father sat beside me, calm as ever.
Raffaele should have been sitting on my other side.
But he wasn’t here.
I had left him in Palermo.
With Azul.
And that was exactly where I wanted him.
I needed someone I trusted completely watching my life while I was away.
And right now, Azul was my life.
The thought alone made me rub my tired face.
I had never been a man who needed anyone.
I had never understood men who couldn’t function without another person.
I used to think they were weak.
Pathetic, even.
Now I understood.
And I hated that I understood.
Because I missed him.
So f*****g much.
“Enzo.”
My father’s voice pulled me back.
I looked at him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You haven’t heard a word they’ve said.”
“I heard them.”
“You’ve been staring at the same document for five minutes.”
I looked down.
He was right.
The numbers on the paper meant nothing to me.
All I could think about was Azul.
What was he doing?
Was he at the bakery?
Had he eaten?
Was he tired?
Was anyone bothering him?
Had anyone touched him?
That last thought irritated me immediately.
I reached for my phone.
My father saw it.
He sighed.
“Again?”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“You’re going to call him again.”
“Yes.”
My father shook his head.
Then, to my surprise, he smiled.
“Now I understand.”
I frowned.
“Understand what?”
“What love actually does to a man.”
I stared at him.
He laughed quietly.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m only saying what I’m seeing.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Of course you don’t.”
He leaned back.
“You have time to call Azul every night.”
I said nothing.
“Time to check your phone every ten minutes.”
Still nothing.
“Time to ask Raffaele for updates.”
I looked at him.
“He’s supposed to be protecting Azul.”
“And he is.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
My father smiled.
“Nothing.”
He picked up his papers.
“You’ve simply fallen in love.”
I looked away.
I didn’t want to hear it from him.
Not because it wasn’t true.
Because it was.
I was in love with Azul.
And being away from him had made me understand exactly how deep it had gone.
Four days.
And it already hurt.
The meeting continued.
The supplier situation had become a f*****g nightmare.
Our distribution network in the States was having problems.
Products were delayed.
Several shipments had been held up.
The market was shifting.
People were getting nervous.
And when people in our business got nervous, they started making stupid decisions.
That was one problem.
Then there were the three families.
The Moretti Family.
The Bellaforte Family.
And the Carusso Family.
All three had Sicilian roots.
All three had established themselves in America years ago.
All three had grown powerful.
And all three answered to us.
My family had been the head of the organization for generations.
They had their territories.
Their businesses.
Their people.
Their operations.
But ultimately, they answered to the Vitale family.
That was how it worked.
Respect.
Hierarchy.
Control.
The problem was that the Morettis and the Bellafortes had started fighting over territory and distribution.
Then the Carussos had gotten involved.
And suddenly, people were dead.
Too many people.
Blood was normal in our world.
I wasn’t sentimental about it.
But there was a difference between spilling the blood of an enemy and spilling the blood of your own people.
Family blood was dangerous.
It created revenge.
Revenge created more bodies.
More bodies created more attention.
And attention was the last thing any of us needed.
So my father and I had come to settle it.
Not ask.
Not negotiate endlessly.
Settle it.
Because the Vitale family didn’t build its position by asking people nicely.
Still, it was exhausting.
Every day had been meetings.
Every night had been arguments.
Phones ringing.
Reports coming in.
People trying to explain themselves.
People trying to blame each other.
And every time someone said the word “family,” I thought about Azul.
My real family.
The family I wanted to come home to.
The family I was trying to build.
His family.
His mother.
His father.
Even Mateo, as f*****g annoying as that man could be.
I wanted them safe.
I wanted them happy.
And most of all, I wanted Azul.
My phone vibrated.
I looked down.
A message.
From Raffaele.
He’s at the bakery. Everything is fine.
I immediately replied.
Anyone bothering him?
The answer came.
No.
Anyone touching him?
There was a pause.
Then:
No, Enzo.
I smiled slightly.
Good.
I had made myself very clear before leaving.
Nobody touched Azul.
Nobody bothered him.
Nobody got too close.
I had even hired additional security.
One man stayed around the bakery.
Another monitored the route between the bakery and his home.
Raffaele handled everything else.
I trusted Raffaele with my life.
But even more importantly, I trusted him with Azul’s.
If something happened to Azul while I was here, I would never forgive myself.
I put my phone down.
My father looked at me.
“You really are gone.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Your mind.”
He smiled.
“Half of you is here. The other half is in Palermo.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
Half of me was sitting in this room.
The other half was somewhere in a little bakery in Palermo, probably covered in flour.
My phone vibrated again.
This time, it wasn’t Raffaele.
It was Azul.
How is your day going?
I stared at the message.
Something inside me softened immediately.
I typed:
Long. Exhausting.
His reply came a moment later.
Have you eaten?
I smiled.
He was asking me the same question I always asked him.
Not yet.
Then:
You should eat.
I laughed quietly.
My father glanced at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I looked back at my phone.
I will.
Azul sent a small heart.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
I missed him.
God, I missed him.
It was becoming painful.
I had missed him before.
Three days.
That had been the longest before this trip.
Three days without seeing his face had felt unbearable.
Now it had been four.
And I still had three more to go.
Three f*****g days.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to survive them.
That night, after another meeting that lasted until almost midnight, I finally returned to the hotel.
I showered.
Changed.
Sat on the edge of the bed.
And called him.
It was late in Palermo.
Very late.
I knew that.
I knew he had work in the morning.
I knew he needed sleep.
But I couldn’t sleep without seeing him.
The call connected.
Azul appeared on my screen.
He was already in bed.
His hair was loose around his shoulders.
He looked tired.
Beautiful.
I smiled.
“Hi, my life.”
He smiled back.
I stared at him.
For a few seconds, neither of us did anything.
I just looked at him.
Four days.
Four days without seeing those eyes in person.
Four days without hearing his silence beside me.
Four days without watching him work.
Four days without sitting beside him.
Four days without touching his hand.
I swallowed.
“I miss you.”
He looked at me.
He didn’t say it back.
He never did.
At least, not yet.
But this time, something about his expression was different.
I couldn’t explain it.
It looked softer.
Like maybe he understood what I meant.
Like maybe he missed me too.
I smiled.
“You don’t have to say it.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I know you.”
I paused.
“Well…”
I smiled.
“I’m trying to know you.”
He looked down.
I could see the smallest smile on his lips.
And somehow, that was enough to make the exhaustion disappear for a moment.
I talked to him for nearly an hour.
About nothing.
About everything.
I told him about the meetings.
He listened.
He told me through his tablet about the bakery.
How much bread he had made.
How busy it had been.
How tired he was.
I asked him if he had eaten.
He rolled his eyes.
I laughed.
“I know.”
I leaned back against the headboard.
“I sound like your mother.”
He smiled.
Then I became serious.
“You’ve been behaving, right?”
He stared at me.
I narrowed my eyes.
“No men.”
He immediately rolled his eyes.
“Nobody touching you.”
Another eye roll.
“Azul.”
He typed something.
Go to sleep.
I laughed.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
He typed:
You’re tired.
“I am.”
I looked at him.
“But I wanted to see you.”
His expression softened again.
And for a moment, I forgot about everything else.
The suppliers.
The families.
The meetings.
The money.
The blood.
All of it.
There was only him.
My life.
My peace.
The one person who could make the worst day feel less f*****g terrible just by appearing on my screen.
Eventually, his eyes started getting heavy.
“Go to sleep.”
He shook his head.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
He typed:
You first.
I laughed.
“You are becoming bossy.”
He smiled.
I stared at him.
“Goodnight, my life.”
He waved.
I ended the call.
The room immediately felt empty.
Too quiet.
I looked at the phone in my hand.
I hated that feeling.
I hated how quickly his absence returned the moment the call ended.
I lay back on the bed.
Tomorrow would be another day of meetings.
Another day of problems.
Another day of pretending I wasn’t counting the hours until I could leave.
Three more days.
Only three.
I closed my eyes.
I could handle three days.
I had handled four.
But as I lay there in the darkness, one thought kept repeating in my head.
I needed to go home.
Not because the business was finished.
Not because the problems were solved.
Not because my father needed me.
I needed to go home because my life was there.
And his name was Azul.
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