I walk through Heidelberg castle in awe. It’s so much better than I could have ever imagined. I’m fully aware that I only know this place because of my stupid assignment when I was a girl, but I feel an affinity to it, as if I were meant to come here one day.
I spent the morning looking around by myself, and then this afternoon I signed up for a guided tour. I’m fascinated by its history. The building is red brick and sits on the side of the hill overlooking the gorgeous town below. It was built in the early 1600s and has been destroyed by lightning, fire, and war, yet it still sits proudly on the mountain, as if guarding the town below.
The ten members of the tour group are wearing earpieces while our tour guide is pointing out the facts about the castle. We get to the main quadrangle.
“And this here…” The tour guide points out a deep footprint in the stone below a window that is two-stories high. “This footprint is a bit of a legend.” He smiles. “Apparently, the queen was tired of the king always being away, waging wars and what not. So, she took a lover-a knight-and they began a torrid affair which led to them falling madly in love. Their affair went on for years until, one night, the king came home early to find the knight in bed with his wife. The knight had no choice but to jump from the window or the king would have had him killed instantly. When the knight jumped out of the window in his armor, he made this footprint in the stone. Now, for the really fun part. It’s said that any man whose foot fits in this hole is a fantastic lover.”
The group laughs and we move onto the next point of interest. I stand and stare at the footprint in the stone, and my mind begins to drift back in time.
What would it be like to have been that queen? To be married to one man and yet be in love with another? Her husband’s knight. One of her protectors. I look up at the window above and imagine the nights that they spent together in her quarters.
The love that they shared would have been sacred and special. They literally risked their lives to have it.
In all the places I have been, with the all of the history I have learnt, it’s the stories of love that truly fascinate me. Did the king kill her knight? Or was she beheaded for having a lover?
What happened to them?
Did they die in each other’s arms?
I walk over to the balcony and look out over the town. The breeze whips through my hair, and my mind goes to Rico. So much was left unsaid between us.
I didn’t ask enough questions. When we spoke in my hotel room and he told me his wishes, I was so shocked that I didn’t ask why. Why does he feel the way he does?
Why does he feel that he has to marry an Italian?
What’s hurting the most is that I know he wants me- I felt it in every touch.
It’s eating at me, the not knowing why. I understand his wishes, and I know it won’t change the outcome for us, but for him… it’s sad. This is his life. In the twentieth century, why does he still feel so obliged to follow ancient tradition?
Why should his life be a sacrifice to his ancestors?
I can’t call him and ask, but if I had my time again and he came to me with that proposition, I would have asked more questions to try and get an insight into his inner thoughts so that I could understand them and move on.
I stare out over the town and wrap my cardigan around me. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.
I need to stop thinking about him…. our time together is over.
***
Enrico
“She’s at a castle in Germany,” Marley says.
I frown. “What’s she doing there?”
“Sightseeing, by the looks of it. I’ve emailed you some pictures just now.”
I click open the email as I sit at my desk, and a barrage of images come up of Olivia Reynolds.
“Is she alone?” I ask, transfixed by her beauty.
“Yes, she arrived late last night. She got room service and has been pottering around town all day.”
I stare at the image of her looking over the balcony of what looks like a castle. She’s so deep in thought. Her blonde hair is up in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a cream sweater and blue jeans.
She’s so beautiful.
I click to the next page of images. There’s one of her drinking coffee in a café, another of her eating an ice cream, followed by one of her driving a car, and then arriving at the hotel.
A scribe of her actions, all laid out for me to look at. I run my fingers over my lips as I stare at her images.
“Will that be all, boss?” Marley asks, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Yes, sorry. Stay with her. Let me know of any changes.”
“Okay.”
He hangs up, and I sit back in my chair, staring at the woman who’s become somewhat of an obsession to me.
The one I can’t have.
Knock, knock.
I minimize my computer screen. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Sergio says. “You got a minute?”
“Yeah, take a seat.”
Lorenzo and Sergio take a seat at my desk-my two right hand men. Lorenzo’s family has worked for my family for years, meaning he is my family now, too. Sergio had just started moving up the ranks before my father died. He’s been out on the field for ten years with them. He knows what he’s doing.
“What is it?” I sigh, not in the mood for working at all.
“We’ve got problems in Sicily,” Sergio informs me.
“Why?”
“When you gave up our cocaine ring down there-”
I cut him off. “No drugs. I fucking told you I won’t sell drugs.”
Sergio’s eyes hold mine. We have fought over this many times. “Let me finish.”
Lorenzo and I roll our eyes.
“By giving up our reign of that side of the business in Sicily, it went to someone else. His name is Luciano Lombardi, and he’s been making quite the name for himself.”
“How so?”
“They call him Lucky Lombardi. He’s into stand over tactics: torture, rape. There isn’t anything he won’t do to be the top dog.”
“He isn’t our concern.” I turn my computer on.
“He has his sights set on our brothels.”
I frown and turn my attention back to him.
“We have twenty-seven down there, as well as five strip clubs. Him and his growing band of men have started frequenting them as clients.”
I stand and pour myself a glass of scotch, my interest piqued. “And?”
“Last night he went into one and demanded the girls come and work for him. When they refused, he roughed a few of them up.”
My back stiffens. “He hit them?”
“Bashed the living fuck out of a couple of them. Three ended up in hospital.”
I inhale sharply. “Nobody hits a Ferrara girl and gets away with it.”
“What do you want us to do?” Sergio asks.
“Beef up security, send more men down there.”
“We need to take back the cocaine,” Lorenzo says.
“No!” I snap. “We’re not drug dealers anymore. We are better than that. That time is over.” We keep having this same argument. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you? No. More. Drugs.”
“If we let him take that, he will take the rest.” Sergio shakes his head. “The more blow he sells, the more power he gets. How long will it be before he infiltrates our other areas?” Lorenzo snaps. “This isn’t about the drugs, Enrico, it’s about the power that it gives whoever has it.”
“We have reputable businesses now. We do not need that side of the business. Stop thinking with fear. I will not be a lowlife drug dealer. That time is over for Ferrara. We are smarter now.”
“What about the girls? They’re in Sicily with a fucking madman who’s trying to take over our turf. Are you just going to let him?”
I stand and walk over to the window, and I look out at the city below. “Beef up security. Every girl is to be protected and I want to know everything there is to know about this Lucky Lombardi.”
“Yes, sir.” They both stand and leave the room. I sip my scotch as anger begins to seep into my bloodstream.
Nobody hits a Ferrara woman and gets away with it.
Nobody.