CHAPTER 10

FIORELLA CARLA SCHIAVONE

My long hair was swept by the wind as Vicenzo and I stepped off the private jet, my hands lightly holding the hem of my cream-colored puff midi dress. Vicenzo mentioned that our honeymoon would be in the Philippines, I had eagerly searched online that very night to learn about the country.

Many said the weather there was hot, so I packed light and breezy outfits. It seems they were right because I could feel the warmth of the sun's rays on my skin.

I glanced behind me as I descended the airplane steps, sensing Vicenzo's presence. He was dressed simply in a thin white Giordano T-shirt and brown short, paired with black sunglasses.

I quickly looked away when I noticed him gazing at me. I waited for him to descend while taking in the surroundings. In the distance, I saw towering mountains that were breathtaking to look at.

"Fiorella, let's go?"

I felt him come to my side just as he shaded me with a large black umbrella he was holding. I looked up at him, squinting slightly because of the sunlight.

Are we leaving already? What about our luggage inside the plane?

I pointed toward the plane and mimed carrying bags to convey what I meant.

"Don't worry. Someone will bring our things to where we'll be staying. For now, we need to head out of the airport because the driver has been waiting outside for a while," he explained.

I nodded slowly and quickly turned toward the airplane entrance when I heard Matteo's voice, who had just stepped out of the cockpit.

"Take care! Enjoy your honeymoon. Hopefully, when you come back, I'll have a niece or nephew!" Matteo called out as he waved at us, teasing with his final remark.

I instantly felt my cheeks flush at Matteo's teasing. I was already feeling warm from the heat of the sun, and his comment only made the redness worse.

"Fuck off, Matteo. Don't forget to send the rest of our things," Vicenzo said flatly.

Matteo chuckled and nodded before replying, "Sure, sure. Your personal bag and Fiorella's small suitcase have already been sent ahead to the car waiting for you. They're just waiting for you two now."

Vicenzo nodded and turned away, and we started walking together through and out of the airport. One of the staff greeted him along the way, but he simply responded with a nod.

Our flight from Lamezia Terme International Airport to Dipolog Airport had taken over 13 hours. Thankfully, the turbulence during the flight wasn't too bad, so I didn't feel overly dizzy.

As we exited the airport gate, I noticed a white Jaguar parked nearby, with a man standing beside it. He immediately walked toward Vicenzo. The road was wide and mostly empty, with only a few tricycles lined up on the side, which seemed to be a common form of transportation here. The sun was still beating down, but thankfully, Vicenzo had brought an umbrella.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Russo," the man greeted Vicenzo before looking at me with a polite smile. He gave a slight bow before addressing me. "Good afternoon to you too, Mrs. Russo," he said respectfully.

I gave him a small nod and glanced at Vicenzo, noticing that he hadn't approached the car yet.

"Donna Fiorella," Vicenzo said, his voice drawing the man's attention as well as mine.

The man swallowed nervously, confusion evident on his face as he processed Vicenzo's words.

"Mr. Russo?" he asked hesitantly.

"Donna Fiorella, or Mrs. Russo, are the only names you can call her—nothing else," Vicenzo said.

The man nodded obediently at him and turned to look at me. He smiled and went to the backseat door, opening it for me.

"As you wish, Mr. Russo," the man responded.

He glanced at me again and extended his hand toward the passenger seat, gesturing for me to enter. I smiled and raised my hand in a small gesture of thanks.

"She said thank you," Vicenzo said, translating for me since I couldn't speak.

The man froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard. It seemed he hadn't expected Vicenzo's wife to be mute, but I understood his reaction.

"O-oh... you're welcome, Mrs. Russo. Please, get in, it's quite hot outside," the man stammered slightly as he spoke.

I stepped into the car, realizing I'd likely have the backseat to myself since Vicenzo entered through the passenger seat in front and sat there.

"My wife is mute, so don't expect her to respond verbally when you speak to her. However, she can communicate with you using her phone if needed," Vicenzo explained while fastening his seatbelt.

"Understood, Mr. Russo," the man replied promptly as he started driving along the highway.

We were now on the main road and had passed a modest sign that read, 'Welcome to Dipolog!' The car traveled along the wide, open roads of the province, with towering mountains clearly visible up close on the right side.

Thankfully, the car's air conditioning provided relief from the earlier heat outside, which had felt sharp and piercing against the skin.

I ran my fingers through my long hair, listening to the conversation between Vicenzo and the driver as we headed toward the house where we'd stay for our entire honeymoon.

Honeymoon... Just hearing that word made me blush. It meant we would—

"Fiorella."

I turned toward Vicenzo's seat when I heard his voice. He was looking at me, which made me furrow my brows and tilt my head in response to him calling my name.

"Put on your seatbelt," he instructed before turning his attention back to the road ahead.

My cheeks flushed instantly, and I quickly reached for the seatbelt, realizing I had forgotten to buckle it when I first got into the car.

After securely fastening the seatbelt, I noticed him steal a quick glance at the rearview mirror above the dashboard before looking elsewhere. Embarrassed, I averted my gaze and focused instead on the passing scenery—houses, mountains, and the picturesque fields, particularly the lush rice paddies.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

I couldn't help but smile as I stepped out of the car, which had just been parked in the garage of Vicenzo's grand house. I was the first to get out, feeling an unexpected excitement to see the property.

The house was a luxury bungalow with a sleek, modern design. Its exterior was painted black, and beside the closed double doors of the entrance was a large glass window, allowing me to glimpse the cream-and-black-themed interior. The entire house was surrounded by tall trees and lush greenery, adding to its charm.

"I'll be heading off now, Mr. and Mrs. Russo," the man said as he bid us goodbye. "Welcome to Dipolog, and enjoy your honeymoon. There are many places to visit here, especially the beaches, so I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. Goodbye again."

Vicenzo, busy carrying my luggage to the entrance of the house, simply nodded in response. I smiled at the man and waved as he walked down a stone pathway toward a smaller door leading out of the gate. The large gate for vehicle entry was already closed.

Moments later, a black car arrived, and the man got in before it drove away.

"Fiorella, come here," I heard Vicenzo call out.

I turned to him and followed his direction.

He had my large tote bag slung over his left shoulder, while his right hand gripped the handle of my suitcase. He grabbed the doorknob of one of the double doors and opened it.

Cool air from the house's air conditioning immediately greeted me as I stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was the living room on the left. It featured an L-shaped cream-colored sofa, a center table, and a large black beanbag off to the side.

"Welcome to my rest house," Vicenzo said to me.

On the right was the kitchen, which I could see clearly now. It had a white marble kitchen island, and I noticed a pot on the stove with steam escaping from its lid, which hadn't been placed correctly. I glanced at Vicenzo, who was now heading toward the staircase at the side of the room. He placed the suitcase on the stairs and rested my tote bag on top of it.

At the far end of the house was a closed sliding glass door leading to a modest garden. Beyond it, I could see an open lanai area and a large tree standing at the back of the garden. The entire garden was fenced, which made it look even more appealing. Before reaching the sliding door, there was the dining area, which featured a large cream-colored table with five chairs. At the center of the table was a small bonsai plant.

"Do you want to eat? It looks like the food's already prepared," Vicenzo said.

I turned to him, noticing he had pushed his black shades up to rest on his head. The sweat on his forehead was gone, thanks to the house's cool temperature. His hair, now untied, cascaded down to his shoulders.

It felt like something was compelling me to touch his hair and play with it, but thankfully, I managed to stop myself from doing it.

I gestured for him to wait for a moment, then went to my tote bag to retrieve my phone. I started typing and sent him the message I wanted to convey.

Fiorella:

Is there someone here?

His phone immediately pinged with my text.

"Yes. Manang Selsa, she's my nanny from when I was a child—"

"Ay! Diyos ko po!"

I nearly jumped in surprise when I heard a voice coming from the kitchen area. An older woman emerged from a bathroom, clutching her chest as she looked at me.

I furrowed my brows slightly, not understanding what she was saying.

"Akala ko ba naman ay kung sino. Kayo na pala 'yan, Vicenzo," her tone softened as she walked toward us, hugging Vicenzo around the waist. "Ang aking alaga, ilang dekada na rin ang nakalipas simula ng huling kitang nakita, hindi ba? Ang laki-laki na ng katawan mo ngayon!" she exclaimed joyfully.

Though I couldn't understand her words, I smiled at her warm demeanor toward Vicenzo. Who would have thought that the Capobastone of the 'Ndrangheta would be doted on by his former nanny?

"Manang Selsa, I brought my wife here," Vicenzo said, glancing at me. The woman also turned her gaze toward me.

Her smile didn't fade as she let go of Vicenzo's waist and approached me. I returned her smile, and she immediately hugged me. It was a gentle and warm embrace.

"Ikinagagalak kitang makilala, hija," she said in a language I didn't understand.

"She doesn't understand Tagalog, Manang," Vicenzo informed her.

"I'm sorry, hija. It's a pleasure to meet you," she repeated, this time in English.

She raised her hand, and miraculously, I didn't flinch, even though I usually do in such situations. I felt Vicenzo's eyes on me, so I glanced at him quickly, and our gazes met.

His stare was both soft and intense, almost disarming. Even though the living room was cool, I could feel the warmth radiating from his gaze. I had to look up to meet his eyes because of how tall he was. The dark pupils of his light brown eyes were wide, dilated as he looked at me.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I felt a gentle squeeze on my arm from Manang Selsa.

"What's your name, dear?" she asked me with a smile.

I raised my hand to gesture for her to wait and opened the notes app on my phone to type my name.

"Fiorella, that's her name, Manang. My wife can't talk because she's mute," Vicenzo explained suddenly.

I scratched my head lightly, realizing he already said my name. But it was fine—it seemed to have become his habit to introduce me to people he knew.

"Oh my! I didn't know you couldn't speak, Fiorella. I'm so sorry."

My eyes widened as I saw her use sign language while speaking. She knew how to sign and understood it! I couldn't explain the happiness I felt seeing her ability to communicate this way.

"I'm happy to know you can use sign language, Manang Selsa. It's a pleasure to meet you as well," I said with a smile, signing in front of her.

"You two go ahead to the dining area. I'll take the luggage upstairs," I heard Vicenzo say just as the doorbell rang from outside the house.

We both nodded, and Manang Selsa and I turned to face each other again.

Manang Selsa took my hand and led me to the kitchen. I sat on an empty high chair by the kitchen island, watching her work in the kitchen.

"You're such a beautiful young woman, Fiorella. How old are you?" she asked me.

She turned to face me, and I signed my response in front of her.

"I'm 25 years old," I signed with a smile.

She washed her hands, dried them with a white cloth hanging from the refrigerator handle, and then approached me. I felt her hand, rough yet gentle, as she caressed my cheek.

"You're still so young, Fiorella," she said with a warm smile. "You have a beautiful lineage, and so does Vicenzo. Your eyes are as stunning as the sea—if only you knew that. Yours are the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen since I started working for the Russos in Italy. So, don't take them for granted, okay? Whether you have a son or a daughter, I'm sure they'll all turn out beautiful and handsome."

Her expression was affectionate, her voice calm and soothing, making me feel at ease as I listened to her. "Don't waste time. You're at the perfect age to have children, and you have plenty of years ahead to make lots of babies with Vicenzo," she teased, grinning as she raised her brows playfully at me. In that moment, she reminded me of Ornella.

I pursed my lips at her words, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"Oh, our Fiorella is blushing. Don't be shy—you're at the right age to start a family. The two of you, with your beautiful lineage, shouldn't let that go to waste."

The kitchen was soon filled with Manang Selsa's laughter and playful teasing. I couldn't do anything but go along with her jokes, despite my embarrassment.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

I couldn't help but giggle while watching a movie on the large flat-screen TV in the living room, munching on marshmallows. It was already late, and when I glanced at the small digital clock sitting on the center table, it read:

9:30 PM.

Almost ten at night. Manang Selsa had gone home early after preparing our dinner. She didn't stay to eat with us, saying that the streets had no lights at night, so she left right away.

She mentioned that her routine while we were here was just to cook for us and clean since Vicenzo wasn't messy with his belongings—and neither was I.

"Fiorella."

I turned to see Vicenzo by the stairs. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and black pajamas. His hair, as usual, was down, still damp, and it looked like he had just taken a shower. I could smell the scent of his Dove body wash all the way from where I was.

"The guestroom is ready. You can go ahead and rest there," he said, his hands casually resting on the waistband of his pajama pants.

I stood up and grabbed the TV remote, intending to turn it off, but he stopped me.

"You don't have to turn it off. I'll take care of the living room. Go ahead to your room and get some rest. I still have something to finish," he said.

I bit my lip, hesitating for a moment before walking toward him with light steps.

I nodded, then took out my phone to communicate with him.

Fiorella:

You still have something to do?

His phone pinged with a notification, and he quickly read my message before responding.

"Yes. I'll be staying here in the living room until I'm done. You go ahead and sleep in the guestroom. Good night, Fiorella," he said, brushing past me.

I stood frozen by the stairs for a few seconds, not moving. A dull ache formed in my chest at his words.

Guestroom? Why the guestroom? Aren't we husband and wife? Couples are supposed to sleep in the same room, in the same bed. So why was he sending me to the guest room? I'm his wife, not a guest.

I let out a sigh, turning to glance at him. His small laptop was already open on the center table, and he seemed to be reading something. He didn't even spare me one last look.

I sighed again, climbed the stairs, and headed to what would be my room. The first door on the left was open, and I assumed this was the guestroom he mentioned.

It was quite spacious, with a large bed. The pillows were neatly arranged, and the comforter was folded perfectly, ready to welcome me to this soft, white bed. Once inside, I locked the door behind me.

I lay down on the bed, the ache in my chest still lingering as I thought about him. My lips jutted out in a pout, and I felt like a child who didn't get what they wanted.

I wasn't usually like this, but why did he feel so frustrating?

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"Oh, what happened to you? You look like the world just came crashing down on you," I heard Ornella say on the other line.

I was having breakfast in the garden of Vicenzo's house. I sat in the lanai, FaceTiming Ornella on my iPad. My lips were pouted as I stared down at a small sticky note I found earlier on the refrigerator when I went to grab something to drink.

I have something urgent to attend to. It's an emergency. By the time you wake up, Manang Selsa will be there to keep you company for the day. Don't forget to eat breakfast. Manang Selsa cooks delicious morning meals.

—Vicenzo

"Hey, your eyebrows are almost touching each other from all that frowning. What happened last night?" Ornella asked again, clearly getting more curious as I crossed my arms in irritation and placed the sticky note on the table.

"Hmm, let me guess," she said. "You two had sex, but his dick was small, wasn't it? He couldn't satisfy you properly, and that's why you're in a bad mood!" She pouted and crossed her arms, too. "But it's impossible for him to have a small dick, Fiorella. Vicenzo gives off big dick energy, even if you haven't seen it yet."

I sighed, too drained to even react to her bluntness.

I shook my head and signed to her. "No. You're wrong about all of it. He made me sleep in the guestroom, Ornella. And that's why I feel upset."

Ornella froze mid-application of her facemask, staring at her phone screen.

"I felt like a guest being made to sleep there. Isn't this supposed to be our honeymoon? A honeymoon, yet we're sleeping in separate rooms?" I signed, my expression growing sadder. "And then he left this morning, saying he had something urgent to attend to."

"Why did he make you sleep in the guestroom?" she asked.

I shrugged and sighed. "I don't know why. And I've noticed he's been avoiding me too. It makes me wonder—is there something wrong with me? But he doesn't even know about my past, so why is he acting like this? Why is he avoiding me?"

She let out a sigh before answering, "Why don't you ask him? You two communicate through text, don't you? Since he doesn't understand sign language, just ask him now so you'll know."

I shook my head. "I don't want to. He might be busy. I don't want to disturb him right now, so maybe I'll ask later."

"Fine, it's up to you. At least your bad mood isn't because he has a small dick—thank God for that," she said with a laugh.

I widened my eyes at her as she burst out laughing again. "What? I'd be sad for you if that were true. But it's probably not. I mean, it's hard to imagine Vicenzo having a small dick. He just radiates big dick energy.

"You imagine Vicenzo that way?!" I signed at her, eyes still wide in disbelief.

She laughed even harder, collapsing on her bed with the facemask still on. "Oh, right, he's your husband. Sorry for thinking that way about him. But it's true, isn't it? Have you ever seen him in sweatpants? If you do, sneak a peek. I heard it shows through those kinds of pants. But don't be jealous—he's all yours. I'm just happy for you, knowing your husband probably has a big one, so you won't be disappointed when you have sex."

I shook my head, facepalmed, and sighed.

"By the way, let's change the topic. I heard your dad got shot? I overheard Father talking about it with your dad," Ornella said suddenly.

I nodded and signed. "It was Vicenzo who did it. He told me on the way back to the hotel. He found out that my father slapped me because of the redness on my cheek and the cut on my lip. So, he went to my father's office."

A spark of something lit up in my chest at the thought of it. It felt like, in his own way, Vicenzo had avenged me for the pain my father caused.

"Wait, what? Vicenzo did that? What was his reaction when he saw your cheek and lip?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

"I don't know, but it seemed like he was holding back his anger. Even if he didn't say it, I could tell he was furious. His gaze darkened, and you could feel the weight of his steps as he entered the mansion." I signed. "I waited in his car for a while. When he came back, I saw him tucking a gun behind him. He told me he shot my father in the hand."

"Damn, Fiorella. Why are you smiling like that?" she asked, almost scared.

I touched my lips, realizing I was smiling as I recounted the story—like a child excitedly sharing how their crush saved them from a bully.

"I don't know..." I signed, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Oh my God! You're falling for Vicenzo! You're freaking in love with him, Fiorella!" Ornella shouted as if she had just discovered something groundbreaking.

So what if I am? He's my husband, isn't he?

SHANGPU