Page 139 of Blue Gold

“And what’s beauty?”

I shrugged.

“Come on, don’t be shy, tell me. Pretty eyes, big lips, nice nose, good skin, being thin?”

My stomach flipped, and I tightened the hold around my wrist until it hurt.

“I don’t know.”

“I see,” Vito sighed and leaned back in his chair.

The sudden silence that spread between us was unlike him, and the longer he kept quiet, the more nervous I became. But then, he spoke.

“Let me tell you something about myself, tesoro.”

Grateful for the change of subject, I sighed and looked at him.

“When I was around your age, I was in love.” His lips formed a thin smile. “It wasn’t just love, but a great one. Once-in-a-lifetime kind of love.”

“Coup de foudre?” I offered, and his smile turned bigger.

“Exactly.”

I shifted closer with my chair, curious to hear more.

“He was a composer, one with a great future ahead of him. And his music?” Closing his eyes, Vito smiled to himself. “I can still hear it playing in my ears.”

The quietness with which he spoke was all new, as the Vito I’d learned to know over the past year was many things, but never quiet. I guess I never really got to know the real Vito, the one behind the big fashion brand.

“So what happened?” I asked, eager to know the rest.

“He got sick.”

“Oh no.” My smile dropped.

“It was this that got him sick.” He tapped on the side of his head. “The place he came up with the most magnificent melodies eventually became his prison.” Vito’s lips quivered before he forced them back into a smile that lacked its usual charm. “You see, my Maestro was a perfectionist, constantly chasing that absurd concept. But what started in his music slowly simmered into his life. His body.” He shrugged, looking around the restaurant almost like he was searching for his next words. “It started as a diet and went on to days without eating. He kept saying food interrupted his work, and at first, I supported him because I always had. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I realized that the love of my life was vanishing before my own eyes.”

My stomach clenched, and suddenly, I didn’t want to hear the rest of it.

“Vito—”

“Only by the time I realized it, it was too late. Doctors said it was depression. One idiot even called it melancholia.” He tsked, shaking his head. “But it was none of that. It was anorexia, a disease I’ve unfortunately encountered later in my life more times than I’d like to count. It’s often overlooked, resulting in tragedies, just like the one that happened to me and my Maestro.”

Now with his eyes fully set on me, I felt locked. Exposed, and not in a good way. The same feeling of guilt I’d experienced that morning with Daniel came back to haunt me. My skin glistened with sweat, my chest tightened, and I huffed, glancing away.

“I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Elliot, I’m scared you might be suffering from the same thing.”

I already knew he’d say that, so I was prepared to reject his ridiculous idea.

“I’m not.”

“Elliot, listen to me⁠—”

“No,” I snapped, looking him in the eyes. “I will not.”

“Fine.” Crossing his arms, Vito leaned back in his chair. “If you say you don’t have any issue, then I won’t doubt you.”