Pieces of Truth

Chapter 2

The Past

~ ~ ~

Did he really think I didn’t see him coming? Did he really think I would buy the incredible coincidence of our meeting? Didn’t he know that boys had tried this same routine before?

They knew who I was. They all knew.

Grudges. Curiosity. Power. Whatever the reason, when a guy came up to talk to me or when they ‘accidently’ ran into me, their faces were riddled with motivation. I was no fool. I was not blind. Plus, I had been informed time, and time again by my father about the whispers, bets and other such reasons as to why men would approach me. I knew they considered me a conquest, a way to get to my father, and today outside the stairs of NYU was no different.

I noticed him walking towards me before the pretend collision. I saw his stride, saw his arrogance a mile away. Yes, I saw Samuel Voltaggio before our ‘chance’ encounter the day we first met.

When our bodies first hit one another, and I fell to the ground, our eyes connected while he helped me to my feet. There was immediate confusion in his gaze in those first few seconds. I expected to hear cheesy lines and a steady flow of dishonesty to come tumbling out of his mouth, but this guy, stalled with nothing to say. The rugged Italian, who looked like he could conquer the world with his swagger, seemed lost in hesitation. He couldn’t stop staring at my face, and had a problem with what to say next. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“A sorry would be good you know,” I pointed out to him as he steadied me to my feet. He cleared his throat. Immediately I smelt his cologne. It was a manly scent that made me think of fast cars and secret spies. The smell reminded me of my Dad when I was young and the endless stream of women that would visit him. His well-groomed features as well as the smell, told me that this guy knew how to operate women, and I would need to be careful.

“Oh yes, right. I’m so sorry I bumped into you like that. I didn’t see you.” And right away I could tell when he was lying. I could hear the hint in his tone, the way his voice wavered. In a split second he had given me his greatest weakness, and I knew playing with him was going to be easy.

“I, I, I…” he stuttered, still looking at my lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” I asked. I squinted my eyes at him as I waited for something more than this bumbling innocent guy act. This was not impressive. How he thought this was the right approach was beyond me. I really thought he would be a lot smarter. A man on a mission would bring his heaviest artillery, and it looked like this guy hadn’t even packed a pocket knife.

He shook his head, trying to come up with something to say before finally finding his voice again. “I did not expect...” He trailed off.

“To run into another person. You and me both. Thanks for the apology buddy, but I have to go.” I had already given him a minute too much of my time.

“Wait!” He half yelled, and reached out to grab my arm as I tried to move past him. I looked at his grip, and he immediately withdrew his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. He swallowed and then returned to staring at me again. Whatever he was trying to do was clearly not going to plan. I was unsure he even had a plan anymore, given he had nothing to say. This was not the smartest approach at trying to get to Big Joe’s daughter. I began internally laughing at the guy who should have brought his ‘A Game’ today, especially considering what I knew about his reputation.

I was standing in front of Samuel Voltaggio, the only son of my Dad’s rival. I had seen pictures of him many times before. My father made me well aware of what he looked like, as well as his reputation. It almost seemed stupid that he would think I wouldn’t know who he was. Surely he must have had some idea that my Dad would have educated me about the face of our enemy. Thinking that I was clueless to his identity almost made me feel offended. Did I really appear that naive? Did he think my Dad would not give me that type of information? Granted it was traditional in our culture that women were separated from any and all manly matters, but my father bypassed those traditions when it came to my safety, giving me information on a need-to-know-basis. I guess I could understand why he would think I wouldn’t know, but the assumption still made me pissed.

“I’m waiting,” I said impatiently, as his dark brown eyes, which looked almost black, went from my eyes, to my lips, to my body, and then back to my eyes again. As I looked into his eyes, trying to see into the depths of that darkness, it hit me. It was subtle, but it hit me.

The rush of attraction.

A heat from inside me suddenly appeared from nowhere.

Damn. That’s not good.

There had been a hole in my heart that was left gaping open since my best friend Josh had moved to Morewell for college two years ago. Josh and I were not romantic, but our friendship filled a void in me that needed companionship, and with him gone, the sudden need for something more in my life sprung open inside, begging to be filled.

“I’m Samuel,” he spoke. His voice was deep, but also sexy and smooth. My knees trembled at the sound of his voice.

That’s new.

“I’m Lenorah,” I said. (But I was sure he knew that.)

He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me, thinking. He looked around and then back to my lips again. He appeared like he was now making this up as he went along.

“Look, this is going to sound a little forward, and we are two complete strangers, but can I...buy you...a cannoli?”

What? I burst out laughing. Of all the things I expected to come out of this guy’s mouth, the last thing I expected him to say was ‘cannoli’. (Note: a cannoli is a sweet Italian dessert. It has a deep fried pastry dough casing, filled with a yummy custard-like filling.)

I was impressed with his creativity to say the least, and wondered what he was about to say next. “What?” I asked, still a little taken back in surprise about his weird approach. This was certainly a new one for me.

“Cannolis. Do you like them?” He sounded sincere in the way he asked.

Hmmm cannoli. Yes, they were one of my favorite desserts, but it had been a long time since I had one. The last time was on my seventeenth birthday with Josh on a rooftop. Josh had failed, quite typically, trying to put a birthday candle in one of those things, and the cannoli’s filling ended up everywhere on my hands as I blew out my candle. We lay on that rooftop staring at the stars that night while I licked parts of the cannoli from my fingers. The thought only reminded me of how much I missed Josh and the void in my heart.

“You are being serious aren’t you?” I was smiling at him, but still very confused. What kind of line was this? What kind of play?

“There is a little Italian cart I know of, right near Central Park which makes them. I swear, they are the best in New York.” He grinned softly which looked genuine. It didn’t feel like some elaborate ploy to get closer to me. I wanted to slap myself for thinking this, but his offer felt heartfelt and sweet.

My knees twitched yet again as I looked into those dark brown eyes. “Down girl,” I internally told myself. This was already turning into code red. I couldn’t possibly find myself attracted to this guy. I had to remind myself that he was the enemy, and I refused to let my body react. C’mon Norah, your mind knows better than this. It did know better, but I was still drawn to him, perhaps out of curiosity. I had a bad habit of that. Looking into things I probably shouldn’t. Taking unnecessary risks. But old habits die hard.

“You want me to go with you, to Central Park, for a cannoli?” I was blushing and considering his offer, and I was also doing my best to hide it from his eyes that still gazed longingly at my face. He had now tilted his head so his look was even softer than before. I gulped, knowing that I was feeling the effect of his charm.

“Yes, and to talk of course. Cannoli and conversation. Can you think of anything better Lenorah?”

I smiled back. I couldn’t help it. As much as I didn’t want to encourage this fruitless encounter, I was still very curious as to how far this guy would try and take it. I should have been more worried about my safety, especially given who he was, but a voice inside me was saying not to panic, that it was OK, that it didn’t sense any threat or danger.

“As a matter of fact, I can’t,” I replied honestly. One of us had to be.

Samuel motioned his hand in the direction behind him. I had just finished my classes today and was heading home. Usually on these days, my Dad’s men didn’t bother waiting outside NYU because they knew I headed straight back to the apartment, and I thanked my lucky stars that they weren’t around to see this. I mean, if this sight got back to my father...

Samuel was right about the tiny Italian dessert cart. It’s selection of authentic cannoli were the best I had ever seen, but I settled on a cinnamon one before we took a seat at a nearby park bench. Samuel got one that had been dipped in chocolate. The guy had a sweet tooth, and for some reason, I mentally stored that information. I don’t know why I was already taking notes about this guy. It’s not like I would ever see him again after today. Remembering that, I decided the best thing to do now, was to just force the end of this meeting. I was enjoying this dangerous liaison, but I knew I couldn’t let it persist much further. I had to get home, and I much preferred to keep the memory of our meeting as something sweet rather than sour.

“So what’s your last name Samuel?” I knew just by asking, that it would lead to the end of this, ummm, date, quickly. I felt a little sad for blurting out the question, but really, what was the point of stretching it out.

“It’s Voltaggio,” he said bluntly, looking to me for recognition. He said it so quickly, no hesitation or hiding, but definitely with a hint of guilt. Perhaps he thought I wouldn’t put two and two together and the conversation about our backgrounds would happen at a later time.

“That sounds familiar,” I said, taking a big bite of my cannoli. He watched me eat it before responding again.

“Hmmm does it? I suppose I should ask you the same thing then. What’s yours Lenorah?”

I thought about lying, but only for a second as something inside me wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye. But I couldn’t play the same game as Samuel, it just wasn’t my style. “Mine is Rossi,” I said taking note of his reaction, knowing my name would probably make him want to open fire on innocent bystanders. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared hearing the name. Years of hatred were embedded in the word, I was certain.

Any minute now we would bid each other ‘adieu’ and we would be on our way, our paths never to cross again.

“Rossi? Rossi? Rossi?” he chanted, trying to see if he could place the name in his head.

Seriously Samuel! I appreciated him playing dumb, but I knew I was going to be forced to help this along.

“Yeah, your name too. Sounds like, sounds like...oh my God! Please tell me you are not the son of Michael Voltaggio!”

“I am.” He said it flatly, like he couldn’t dress it up.

“I’m Lenorah Rossi.” My hands were pointing to my chest.

Samuel stared blankly at me. Oh please! And the Academy Award goes to...

“Daughter of Guiseppe Rossi.” I assisted him with more information in the hope he would drop the pretence. His eyes looked misty as the details clouding his thoughts disappeared, and suddenly he flinched, like a light bulb went off in his head. He was really good at this.

“Oh sweet Jesus. Really?” He looked shocked, like this was all new to him, and perhaps on some level it was, but I brushed that thought away, mortal enemies and all.

“We should probably stop talking now. We wouldn’t want a Shakespearean tragedy on our hands now would we?” I don’t know why I said that. Like the idea could ever be possible anyway. I laughed at the impossible thought. Samuel and me, together, our families at each other’s throats. That would be a crazy situation indeed! The rebel in me however, was slowly rubbing her hands together at the concept of more. Not good.

“Two households, both alike in dignity,” Samuel quoted. “From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life.”

Wow, not just a pretty face. My knees twitched even more at his ability to recite Shakespeare. Another quality I mentally stored in my head.

“That’s a bit dramatic, but yes, you get the point. Nicely quoted from Romeo and Juliet I might add, but now that we are both aware, perhaps this coincidence should just be that, a coincidence and we should part ways. No point continuing this... this...”

Samuel’s smile turned into a frown, a sad clown-type of frown and I felt the nag of something else, regret. OK, yes, Samuel had been somewhat like a gentleman, and his looks did kind of make me feel something I hadn’t felt in a very long time, but this was crazy. I couldn’t see this guy again. It would kill my father, and most likely start an unnecessary war. I couldn’t be selfish and I couldn’t hurt my Dad like that, even though most of my happiness had to be pushed aside to accommodate my Dad’s lifestyle. That reminder made the deep-seeded resentment I had for my Dad, come forth.

Maybe I shouldn’t just disregard this. He doesn’t appear all that bad.

But, I could never trust the guy. Right?

Samuel noticed my internal debate, like I was struggling with the disconnection too and he saw it as a sign to try and change my mind.

“Lenorah, Len. Can I call you Len? I like you. I know that probably sounds incredible hearing that from someone you just met, and who your family hates, but I do. I really do. I think you can tell. I would really like to see you again soon. Can we do that?”

I wanted to believe it, but I couldn’t decide what felt right. After a minute of contemplating various kinds of outcomes, I decided I had put my needs on hold for far too long and that I deserved something for it, a new friend maybe. I did want to see him again. Just once more. I mean one more cannoli date wasn’t going to mean anything. Maybe we could become really good friends and stop this ridiculous feud between our families. I could turn the negative into a positive. There could be lots of good reasons to see him again.

Yes, I had convinced myself that on some level, it was all going to be alright and seeing Samuel at least once more, was not wrong.

“O...K. Yes. We can chat again. I think it will be fine to do that.” He grinned now, a gorgeous teeth-showing grin that made me smile too. Thinking about seeing him again did make me feel nervous, but the excited kind of nervous that aroused butterflies in my stomach. This was all very weird and new. My smile fell as I looked at Samuel. I couldn’t begin this way. He needed to know to my deal breakers.

“Samuel, if we do hang out again, I’ll need you to make me a promise, and it’s kind of non-negotiable.”

“Anything,” he stated.

That was quick.

“If we say, become friends...” I began.

“Yesssss...” He smiled even more now that I was voicing that possibility. I made sure that he saw how fixed my eyes were on his. He needed to hear and respond to what I was about to say. I knew how he sounded when he lied, so now I needed to know if he could be honest or not.

“Promise me you won’t lie to me. Ever.” I stayed transfixed on his mouth, ready to hear what he was about to say next. I had to see if we stood a chance at being friends, and the only way that would be possible was if he could be genuine and true.

He swallowed. I knew he could tell how important honesty was to me and I could see the debate in his head about whether or not he should come clean about our so-called ‘chance’ encounter.

He didn’t come clean, and instead said, very earnestly I might add, “Lenorah, from this very moment, right here, right now, I will never lie to you.”

I sighed. Yeah sure Samuel, we will see...