Sienna Moretti
Legacy Name: Sienna Moretti

“Stop calling. Go back to your little games pretending to be an artist, live and die alone, then have a nice life in hell, you rotten, ungrateful, good for nothing-”

I slammed down the plastic black phone with a trembling hand just before I could hear the last part and watched the cord coil as it settled. There was a brief high pitched ring, but it quickly dimmed, and all I could hear were the mocking words of my father during my childhood among the clamor of pedestrians and cars passing on the street. I couldn’t take hearing it all over again…. I already knew what he was going to say- something about being a heretic whore. Dad never did take well to my refusal to conform to the church, even if my beliefs in heaven and hell and God were as strong as any well-infused genetic code; church was the only thing that had ever really mattered to him, aside from baseball and the occasional family vacation or family dinner. It isn't my fault that I wasn’t born the "the prodigal son", who knew that he wanted to be a pastor at the age of sixteen. Really- good for him that he should be called to serve that purpose.. but it wasn't my path to follow, especially not in the way that he was travelling. Well... you do know the what the funny thing about the prodigal son, right..? He screwed up.

My hand trembled on the receiver. Me abandon them..? How could he say that and be so serious? In reality, he drove me out of that house with all of his crap, from that shattered “family” and from my mother. My poor mother. I didn’t want to leave her but I had to, and the only connection I had left to her was that damn phone line and maybe an email once in a while. I’d suggested cell phones, but mom knew dad would get suspicious seeing the call bills and then she‘d be in trouble. He was a control freak with a "My way or the Highway" attitude- he didn’t believe in "free will", even if he was a "Godly man", or if he did his definition definitely would have had something to do with choosing option A or option B, which both swayed in his favor and had nothing to do with what you actually wanted. And if you didn’t listen or tried to get your way… I don’t want to remember, please. After the day I was pitched across the room into a wall, I never wanted to stand up to my father again.

God I was so glad I was in that phone booth… I was grateful for the privacy it could offer me in that moment. Above all other things, I hated it most when others watched me break. The tears streamed from my eyes uncontrollably, and I convulsed as I tried to choke back angry screams. It had been a long time since I’d actually had a breakdown, I’d been doing just fine since I left... But he was oh so right. I was alone, just like I’d always wanted... but god how I hated it now. I just wanted to be home. I wanted to see my mother, my friends, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my grandparents… I had no one, not even a favorite pigeon to feed in the plaza, much less any nice prospective Italian boys in my sights.. I was even more alone halfway across the world and without support; I was completely despondent.

Misery finally set in, and I found myself stumbling out of the booth onto the cobblestone walkway of the Piazza dell’ Esquìlíno, swaying on my feet as I tried to make sense of where I was. For the moment, I had completely forgotten Rome, and found myself thinking quite like I had just stepped off the plane all over again. Where am I? What am I doing here? Where do I go? What now…?

Then I remembered where I had been headed before I remembered that I needed to call mom. It was seven AM, and I was on my way to work. Quickly, I grabbed my bag, which was stuffed full of art supplies, and hurried across the plaza toward the- L’… L’angolo di Panetteria? I’m pretty sure that’s what you would call ‘The Corner Bakery’. I’d never learned Italian, but I’d taken plenty of Spanish classes in my day, which made the language come easier to me, but some of the words were still so hard to remember, especially because most of the people in Rome already spoke English anyways and catered to me and my inability to speak theirs. Still- I was learning as best I could with the English-Italian dictionary I’d picked up at la libreria, that’s ‘Bookstore’ in either language.

When I’d arrived six months ago, Gino -the bakery Owner- was nice enough to give me food and rooming if I made deliveries for him, and in my off-time, he even let me paint out front in the plaza. Supposedly it drew attention to the other shops in the vicinity and brought in some really good business. I mean- I knew I was a good painter, but I didn’t think I was anything special. Tourists and locals alike would pull up a chair and just sit and watch for hours at a time while they sat and chatted with a friend or read a book, being sure to stop and look up every now and again to check on my progress.

From the shop front Gino stood leering in my direction, tapping his foot with his arms crossed in irritation, as he watched me flail across the plaza to him. “Donna! Fretta! Siete in ritardo!”

Boy I knew what that meant.. Like I’d never heard anyone angry that I was late before in my life. A person’s tone of voice when they were telling you to ‘hurry the fuck up’ was always the same no matter what language they were speaking- it was like a universal code. “Mille scuse, Gino…” I heaved between gasps for air as I stooped to catch my breath, “I needed to talk to my mother-”

“Don’t tell it to me, tell it to my customers who expected to have their bread by now!”, he scolded as I pushed past him through the narrow doorway of the tiny shop.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you!”, I promised as I dropped my things in the corner and grabbed a helmet off the wall.

“Qualità! What is all this!?”, he complained loudly as he lifted his hands and tugged at his hair in exasperation. I’d done a little shopping for some art supplies and books the night before with the leftover money from a painting of the Grotto I’d sold a few months back, so I was happily stocked with oils, gouche, and tempura to last me a while longer.

“I needed more paint, or miss Mona Lisa would be missing her hands forever!’, I explained, cringing as he moved my things out of plain sight into the back room. Oh please don’t break anything..

“Just get your morning deliveries out of the way before you even think about getting started on this today!”

“Sure Gino, you got it!”, I yelled over my shoulder as I scooped up the bread bag and loaded it into the cart attached to the back of a bike that looked surprisingly similar to a beach cruiser.

He approached the doorway and sighed as I pedaled away toward my normal morning route. There were only fifteen houses that I needed to visit today, and they were all within a mile and a half radius; I figured I could get them all done in an hour or two, then get started on my painting.

Two hours later and I was done with my route. I turned around and headed back to the shop to collect my pay for the morning, then gathered up my things, set up my workstation in the plaza and got to work. Currently I was working on a replication of the Mona Lisa that I seemed to be pulling from memory of the time I’d seen it when I stopped by The Louvre in Paris on my tour of Europe. I’d been seeing her in my dreams a lot lately and dreamt of painting her, so I figured I’d give it a try just to get it out of my system. The result... far exceeded my own expectations. I was proud of myself, but I felt even better when complete strangers would come up and jokingly ask if I’d made a digital photocopy and was just pretending to paint it. A few people that had seen the Mona Lisa and had actually spent time studying its composition had complimented me on ‘a stunningly precise replication of Da Vinci’s work,’ but I wouldn’t know any better. I had only seen it under four inches of glass from five feet back.

The sounds of the afternoon and the smells from the cafes in the vicinity eased my mind as I mixed my paints and stroked them across the canvas slow and repetitive. Soon I'd relaxed and forgotten the conversation with my father just a few hours before; two hours passed though it seemed like ten minutes, and it was time for a break. I dropped my brush in my vase of paint water and leaned over to set my pallet down, rummaged through my backpack and pulled out a salami and cheese sandwich I'd grabbed from the deli that morning. When I looked up again, a handsome green-eyed man in a sharp black suit and a red shirt was admiring my handiwork. Considering the normal demographic of patrons to wander the plaza, I froze at the realization that this man was upper class. He had money, and an eye for art. Was he a collector? Was he a critic? I could feel a large lump forming in my throat as my heart beat faster and time slowed to a halt, just waiting for him to say something, anything that would confirm my suspicions. If I could sell a painting to this man, I'd have food for the next month.

Ciao, bella, Sei un artista?

His voice was a haze among the chatter in my mind but it carried so strongly that it snapped me out of my trance in an instant... unfortunately, not an instant soon enough to prevent me from dropping my lunch on the ground. No, Damnit!, I cursed quietly under my breath as I scrambled to clean it up, while still making eye-contact with the stranger and stammering a "Yes! Yes I am," out between glances. He'd been smiling before, but was now watching me with judgmental eyes, waiting until I had composed myself just a bit better.

Time Period: Present
Genre: Paranormal Crime
Appears in: Honor Among Monsters
RP Status: Unavailable

Name / Nick: Sienna Moretti / "Senna"
Nationality / Language(s): Dutch-Irish & Greek / English (Primary), Spanish (Secondary), Italian (Secondary)
Age / Birthday / Sign: 27 yrs. / October 17th, 1984 / Libra
Height / Weight: 5'7" / 135 lbs.Immortal- Decrox
Power(s):
Psychometry- can see into the past of any item she touches and can see/learn how it was made; can produce a forgery up to 99.9% accurate to the original, which can also hold up to various tests such as carbon-dating and testing for chemicals in the artifact from where it was originally found
Extrasensory Perception- makes unconscious predictions in everyday life, can "see things before they happen"
Emotional Sensitivity- sensitive to the emotions of others; can control, manipulate, and absorb emotions and memories through physical contact
Eyes: Burnt Orange with flecks of yellow
Hair: Cherry Brown, fading to a natural red in the very tips; long, down to her mid-back, straight bangs tapered to one side, large loose curls
Skin: Fair, Olive-toned
Build: Athletic build- strong shoulders, toned core, toned legs; Above average- wider hips and thicker legs
Scars: None
Tattoos / Piercings: None / 6 total- 2 in each earlobe, 1 in each helix, though one is pierced lower than the other
Wardrobe:

Orientation / Status: Heterosexual / Single, "Betrothed"
Love: Antonio
Parents: Alive, but not around; she was kicked out at 16, and adopted by Lucy at about 17
Family: Jesse (brother through adoption; alive), Michael (blood brother, older; alive)
Friends: Lucy, Antonio, Jesse, Juliet, Kael, Jacquie, Achilles, Mave, Riley, Aaron, Po
Occupation: Freelance Illustrator specializing in the Restoration (and alleged forgery) of Drawings & Paintings
Location: Chicago, IL

Vice: Sloth
Virtue: Chastity, Love
Strong Points: Philosophical, Intellectual, Adoring, Protective, Loyal to a fault
Faults: Overly trusting, perhaps too optimistic, sets unrealistic expectations for herself
Religion: Christian- Non-denominational
Quirks: easily sucked into her work, and often forgets to eat; sticks things in her hair such as ribbons, flowers, leaves, and other random art supplies, and often forgets about them
Traits: quiet, contemplative, easygoing, intellectual, calm, grounded, coy, stubborn at times, honest, fun-loving, daring, brave, confident, good listener, thinker, pacifier, problem-solver, perfectionist, finisher, deep, passionate, lover, open-minded, romantic, high self control, dislikes large parties, prefers organized to unpredictable, prudent, observer, tough, self-reliant
Likes: good food, sleep, drawing, watching old movies, writing, intellectual conversations, being in the company of good friends, swimming, climbing, hiking, stargazing, dancing, vintage furniture, historical architecture, horseback riding, high places, getting lost in conversation, road trips, getting lost and finding the way back wherever it leads, theater, opera, "natural beauty", helping strangers, being the one to blaze a new trail instead of following the worn in one, music of any kind, tea, candy, cheesecake, baby animals
Dislikes: liars, cheaters, haters, posers, taking pills, art-block, "Dada" and Abstract art, feeling inferior, pot-heads, assholes and douchebags, open-water, spiders, bugs, fast reckless driving, misuse of spelling and grammar

Bands on Playlist: Adele, Clint Mansell, Eliza Doolittle, A Fine Frenzy, Florence & the Machine, Mumford & Sons, Of Monsters & Men, Owl City, Sara Bareilles, She & Him

Name: Luciano Moretti
Relationship: Adoptive Father
Lucy, oh Lucy.. I don't know where I'd be without him. Really.. I can honestly say that he saved my life, and gave me back the will to live. If he hadn't let himself into the house that night and wrestled the knife from my grasp.. I wouldn't be here today.
After my father disowned me and kicked me out of his house, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I had a little over a thousand dollars stashed away in a savings account that would get me through for a little while.. but I really just wanted to get away. I bought a plane ticket and found myself in Paris just days after the drama went down, then spent the next four or five months traveling all over Europe, taking small jobs here and there to make some extra cash, painting and drawing and selling my work, anything I could.. eventually I found myself in Rome, where I remained for six months until I came across this man. I was at my wit's end- my father had finally intervened and cut off communication with my mother, which was the only thing that was keeping me sane, I was working eight hours a day, barely sustaining myself, and living out of Gino's attic in the garden shed in the backyard.. with no hope of a career on the horizon, no friends no family.. and then along comes this complete stranger and pulls me out of the darkest point in my life, and provides me with everything I ever could have ever wanted or needed.
Immediately he took me under his wing as if I were his own daughter, and spoiled me rotten- all out of the goodness of his heart. He didn't ask for anything in return, just companionship.. I always wondered just what made him so empathetic towards me, since he seemed so.. Cold, toward his subordinates at times, but the more time I spent with him, the more I began to understand the kind of person he was. He was lonely too, and hurting just like me.. and the deeper I looked into his actions, the more I saw that he was acting out of love. He loved everyone equally, unless they gave him a reason not to- the same philosophy by which I had been trying to live for so long. He didn't discriminate, didn't needlessly judge.. he just selflessly gave, so freely, so completely, to anyone that deserved it. I have such a hard time believing that he was never married, and it breaks my heart to know that he never had children of his own. He is the world's greatest dad.

Name: Antonio Calidori
Relationship: Guardian / Friend / Romantic interest
The first time I met Antonio was, coincidentally, the first time I met Lucy. We shared a brief conversation about classical art- light and shadow, composition, execution.. he was a nice guy to talk to. In fact, my first impression of him was that he could have possibly been everything I had been looking for in a man- charming, polite, good-natured, clean-cut, confident, and very handsome... someone I had convinced myself long before that I would never be good enough for. And when they left together, I never expected to see either of them again, really... much less become as entwined in his life as I have over the years. We've had our fair share of ups and downs, and even went through a rough patch where we didn't talk to each other for a few years.. but time heals all wounds, and when we did finally rekindle our friendship, our bond became stronger than ever before.
Ever since Lucy first took me in, he's always looked out for me and my best interests, mainly because of Lucy's outright devotion to fostering me, but given enough time together, we developed a closeness that I considered to be comfort unlike anything I'd experienced before. Lucy and I have shared an emotional bond, promising to be there for one another whenever we needed someone, but Tony.. he shared so many of my interests and passions, that we connected on both a personal and emotional level. He's taught me many, many things.. aside from helping pay for my education and my art supplies, he tutored me in Art History and Neoclassicism, taught me how to play the piano, critiqued my work to help me refine my raw talent (it was adorable when he used to sit down, peer over my shoulder, and examine my work, trying to find something to critique), and even purchased several paintings from me over the years, some commissioned! But my art career isn't the only thing he has contributed to.. Like papa, he's made a habit of "putting the fear" into any and all young men that even look at me wrong, which in spite of the trouble it's brought me over the years, I wouldn't trade for anything. After all, for what it's worth.. he has always been there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on or a friend to talk to. He is my most treasured friend in this world, and I hope that we never have to go our separate ways again, for even the briefest period of time. Life sure is empty when he's not around.

Name: Jesse Moretti
Relationship: Brother (older, through adoption)
Jesse doesn't live with us anymore, we had to leave him back in Sicily... when I met him and Lucy, he was in his second year of college, finishing up Law school, but now he's graduated and he's a private Attorney, representing the Moretti and Calidori families in any and all cases that Parliament decides to charge them with. He's not directly associated with the Moretti Family, but he knows enough about the Family business to keep himself from getting into trouble on either end.
Jesse and I don't get to talk much or see each other too often these days, but we always have a lot of fun when we do get to spend time together.

Name: Achilles Davenport
Relationship: Friend / Guardian
Achilles has always been a pretty quiet guy, since the day I first met him, but sweet and polite nonetheless, despite his cold and impassive appearance. I usually spend a lot of time looking after his younger sister Lily (who is just- the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life) while he's away on business- and let me tell you, if there ever was a thing in the world cuter than this little girl, it would be how much he adores her. While I don't really approve of him keeping the details of their parent's death and the details of his job a secret from her, I think that the idea of preserving a child's innocence as long as possible is a romantic ideal in itself, something that I would never have really expected out of Achilles, especially knowing how he goes about his work.. but I guess the same could be said about Luciano. Two peas in a pod, I suppose. It's no wonder papa's so fond of him.

Name: Juliet Mason
Relationship: Friend
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Name: Jacquie Durand
Relationship: Friend / Guardian
Jaquie has been a very good friend of mine from the moment we met. Always caring, never rude, and always willing to stand up for me. He's fought off quite a few creepy men in his day.. and even gotten rid of an ex-boyfriend problem once... Either way, he's been like the brother that Michael never was, and for that, I cannot thank him enough.
However in spite of the things that he's done for me, I know that it's mainly because of his feelings for me.. sometimes I can just feel his eyes on the back of my head.. or know that he's waiting on the other side of a door until he hears me come into the hallway, just so he can fake running into me. He doesn't do it all the time, but the constant corner-of-the-eye looks when I'm around is just really unsettling, and puts me on-edge. I mean- it's one thing when I've been assigned a bodyguard detail... but this is different. I don't feel that he's doing it intentionally, it's him just spacing out more than anything, but whenever we're in the same room, I can just feel and hear his thoughts and emotions circling, passing right through me.... and I just don't feel that way about him. He's my friend, and I don't want it to go any further than that. I'm really hoping he finds a girl soon.. Antonio would beat the hell out of him if he ever caught him.

Name: Maverick Durand
Relationship: Friend / Guardian
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Name: Riley Sorretto
Relationship: Friend
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Name: Tony Ramos
Relationship: Business Partner / Guardian / Friend
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Name: Aaron Smith
Relationship: Guardian
Aaron, has been my Guardian Angel for at least the last seven or eight years.. actually- I think I started seeing him right around the time I left home, which would make sense really, because it was when I needed someone more than anything. He was never really there physically, but rather spiritually and emotionally; if it weren't for him, I'm not sure I would have made it until Lucy found me. In fact- I think he may have played a part in bringing him to me. One thing's for sure, he's been doing a good job of looking out for me.

Name: Kael Sutherland
Relationship: Business Partner / Friend
I'm really not sure what I could say about Kael without making him seem so... troubled. When we first met, he was all business- stand-offish, didn't like to talk unless it was about the job, and was sarcastic if he had to... the type who was locked so far inside themselves that they seemed dead inside. At first I reasoned that it was because he was a criminal, or rather, because he had etched his career and life into a criminal way of living- the way some young Mafiosos looked while they were still settling in to that way of life... but the more I saw of him, the more I realized that the look in his eye had begun to grow tired with each passing week. But it wasn't the look of someone who wanted out, so much as it was the look of someone who was ready for it to end. I'd known that look once, and I recognized it the moment I first saw it gleam over the top of his carefully fortified wall. I didn't say anything, or poke and prod about it.. I just went on being my sweet self, trying to chip away at that wall every little bit I could, and eventually it paid off.
But what awaited me on the other side... I honestly wasn't expecting. This man had been beaten, broken, manipulated, and had everything stripped from him, from his name, to his family, to his honor as a goddamned war hero, the one truly good thing he had done with his life- and here he was, hiding in plain sight, just hoping someone wouldn't have the sense to come looking for him, lest he need to revert to "self preservation" methods, as he put it. How the world could turn a person into someone so cruel, so unforgiving, so unrelenting, that he felt driven, even to his death, to right what was so horribly wrong, and in a way so horrifying-... Forgive me, I need to collect myself. Do not mistake my words.. Kael is a wonderfully beautiful soul. Deep down beneath the facade of the person he has forced himself to become, there is love and dedication that runs so deep, no words could describe the measure of self-sacrifice this man has chosen to endure to follow the path he started down when he was just a boy. If in order to save the life of the one you loved, you would need to be hated, would you have been able to turn your back on them and pursue, for a lifetime, that which would set them free, no matter what the cost? He is the bravest, strongest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and even though sometimes, I feel as though my efforts will never be sufficient enough, I am glad that I can help him in any way I can, even if it is just to let him talk when he needs to.

Name: Antonio Calidori
Relationship: My dearest friend, my love, my everything

So... maybe Antonio is a lot more to me than just an old friend. I'm not really sure where I should start with that story, other than at the beginning. I believe I already told you about how we met, what we connected over: Art, specifically classical, historical art. Being a native, it didn't really surprise me that he had taken a liking to my work. Italy was full of people with artistic appreciation.. but I was still flattered that he had been kind enough to compliment my work. The spark between us, however, was not instantaneous by any means, it was very gradual, even after our first meeting. It took me a few weeks to come out of my shell after Lucy took me in... but when I finally started feeling better, Antonio took notice. He'd start polite conversation while he waited around for Lucy, or make comments about items of mine that were laying around- tea selections or wine pairings, music selections, books that I had left laying out, pictures of places I had been to, and people I was with.. the conversations didn't really last, but they were enough to break the ice.

When we finally did start talking on a regular basis, he visited every weekend.. when he wasn't trying to teach me something, I'd take a break so we could go somewhere more relaxing, and with a better view.. the porch, the orchards, sometimes we took the horses out or hiked around the estate. During those times, we talked about everything.. likes, dislikes, hobbies, personal experiences, and even secrets. Antonio was much more pleasant than I would have pegged him at first- his personality was very upbeat, full of adventurous youth.. and he himself was more casual and personal than I had expected. He was quickly becoming my closest friend, in spite of the difference in our age. Not that it bothered me, it was just.. surprising, considering most adults around his age still considered me a child. I think he did too though.. to an extent. Not that he treated me as though I was beneath him, just that sometimes, in certain relationships, you just know by the feeling you get in your gut. It was okay though: even though I had the biggest crush on him, I knew that our relationship was strictly platonic, and I was content with things remaining the way they were.

Ohh.. but when Lucy broke the news to me that he had decided that enough time had passed, and he was ready to return to Chicago.. I was completely devastated. Even though he never admitted it, I think Antonio was too: in the weeks leading up to the move, he was over multiple times a week (almost every other day).. While he did conduct business with Papa while he was there, he spent much more of his time with me. His demeanor was strange, foreign; he was unusually quiet, somber in his speech, something uncharacteristic of him, even on his worst day. We spent almost all of our time outside, away from distractions, which gave us more time to talk and enjoy one another’s company, before we were torn from each other’s lives for God knows how long. We took long walks down by the beach (arm in arm), hikes along the cliffs, and rode through the countryside. Two days before we left, we rode so far we tired the horses, and walked the last six miles, during the night- while exhausting, that trip was one of my fondest memories with him. It was clear that we were both grieving within our hearts about the distance that would soon be wedged between us. We trudged along quietly, side-by side in the moonlight, wondering what more could possibly be said to make the arrangement easier; when he started making promises that he would call at least once a week so we could catch up, and fly out to visit whenever he had the time, I looped my arm around his and gave it a long, strong squeeze. You'd better, I threatened playfully, but seriously; that was the last time I saw him smile for several years.
I didn’t even remember making it home, yet I woke up the next morning tucked into bed fully-clothed (with the exception of my socks and shoes). When I got up, I found Antonio passed out on the couch, which was probably the last place I would have guessed I’d find him... even in his sleep, he seemed hurt. Had I been more observant... no- receptive, I may have realized that it was his way of begging me not to leave him. Some days, I really wish I wouldn't have.

The day we left was far less emotional (for him) than the days leading up to the move. At that point, Antonio just seemed tired, as if our presence had already been gone for quite some time. He was not affectionate, nor emotional; avoidant, for the most part.. but it helped him keep it together, which actually led me to believe that he was okay with us leaving... or so I thought, until he finally touched my hand and looked me in the eye. Aside from the time Lucy had grabbed my wrist, until that point, I had not shared an emotional transfer so heavy with anyone. The fact that we were leaving was actually turning a piece of him dark again. I felt horrible, even wanted to cry for him, but couldn't. A tear that had formed in the corner of my agony-ridden eyes, rolled down my cheek; he cupped a hand on my cheek and brushed it away with his thumb, wrapped his other arm around me, pulled me into a warm embrace and kissed my forehead softly, with a whisper of Alla prossima, "Until next time." With a pat on the back and a small, vexed smile, he shook Lucy's hand and waved goodbye.. at that moment, I felt as though he was trying to push me away to soften the blow.. but as it turns out, I was wrong.

He kept his promises- I heard from him every week, though for the first few months, it was more like every other day.. sometimes two to three days a week, even though "Family Business" kept him very busy. I can't say I liked it.. but I understood. This was who he was, what he did.. I hadn't expected him to dissolve that part of his life, just because we had a connection on a deeply emotional and psychological level. But I could tell that something had started to change in him- over time, his tone on the phone became stiffer, less genuine... He stopped sharing his "everyday" discoveries with me, and started to repeat questions as if he were interviewing me.. I worried, but with him so far away, I could not understand what was going on within him. When I asked, he denied that anything was wrong; I knew he was lying.. I could feel the tension in the way his soul vibrated when I closed my eyes or looked at him from across the room.. but he protected it well. When he did make it out to visit, he avoided physical contact, on top of his already bizarre behavior- small, pained smiles and glances were all he could muster, as he walked around with his hands in his pockets. Back always to me, even when we conversed.. I hated every second of it, I can't even number how many times I screamed at him in my hardening heart to turn around and look at me like he used to. This.. new side that he was showing me made me so angry that I lost control, and started snapping back.. And that only made things so much worse.

It wasn't among my proudest moments in life... But for a few years, I actually gave up on him, out of retaliation for breaking my heart. Without the fulfillment of his kindred spirit, I felt so empty, so alone.. For the tirst time in four years, I started dating again- just to get a rise out of him, at first.. But the more he ignored my foolishness, the harder I pushed. We had grown so far apart in the previous two years, we broke the barrier of being rude, and crossed over into malcontent quite easily.
The truth of the matter was... I had become so fixated on my anger, that I had actually begun to believe my own lie, and live it as if it really were true. See.. I met this guy in New York.. we dated for a few months before I told anyone about him- but he seemed like everything I wanted and needed at that moment in time, and I fell hard for him. Antonio was furious, he had had about enough of hearing about the "finnichios" I had been parading around with, and practically begged me to "cease my foolishness and open my eyes"- because this boy, just like all the others, was going to leave me, because he wasn't a man, because "he doesn't even know how to tie his shoes, much less how to be a gentleman to a deserving young woman." I guess that should have been my first clue... I could see pain and genuine concern in his eyes, but I was far beyond the point where I was willing to deal with the subtleties any longer. I needed a man who wasn't afraid to tell me how he felt about me, and Rom offered me that comfort day in and day out.

If there is one thing In my life that I will always regret, it's that I didn't listen to him- Again. Seven months after my relationship had started, it was over in one ugly, violent flash of a reality check. I was in the area after a business meeting, and figured it'd be a nice surprise if I dropped in on a night when he wasn't expecting me. So I took the elevator to the fourth floor, unlocked the door, dropped my purse in the kitchen, checked the study to see if Rom was home...
The wine bottle in my hand dropped to the floor and shattered onto the hardwood, along with my hopes and heart. I hardly remember what happened next.. It all happened so fast- but I'll never forget how I felt when I saw him there, humping her against the wall. I screamed at them both, stumbled in the doorway, out of the room.. And dropped to my knees. Everything came crashing down on me in a violent flash: the vomiting, the crying, the screaming as he grabbed my hair and slammed me into the wall... He laughed at me, spit at my feet, packed my bag, and threw me back out into the hall as he mumbled something about "trading up and taking out the trash". My mind hadn't been this twisted since my birth father had yelled at me over the phone five years ago. I stood in the hallway for a few minutes, shivering, staring at the floor... A few of the neighbors from across the hall had heard the commotion, and come into the hallway to my aid- they were all so concerned, a few of them wanted to call the police.. Asked if there was "someone I could call". I ignored them, brushed them off for the most part.. And forced myself into the elevator. The only person I wanted to see right then was Antonio.
When I heard his voice on the other end of the line (strong and soothing as it always was), I nearly lost it. I wanted him- no. "Please, Antonio... I really need you right now," I pleaded, as calmly as I could manage; I didn't even have to repeat myself. Somehow, he managed to cross half of New York City, by car, in less than ten minutes. And when I heard him call my name, and saw the look on his face.. I ran without thinking and threw my arms tightly around him, buried my face in his chest, and cried as hard as I had in the phone booth in the plaza. "You were right..." I admitted between sobs; he just sighed, squeezed me tighter as he stroked my head, and lay his cheek against my soaking wet hair. "I'm sorry, Senna.. It's not what I would have wanted," he admitted quietly. Though sweet in thought, it still wasn't what I wanted to hear. I thought about it all night, and all day the next day. His habits still hadn't changed; he made polite conversation, just to pass the time, but wouldn't look me in the eye, or pat my head or squeeze my shoulder... I just couldn't handle anymore of the overwhelming want. By then, it had burned right through me, and I was ready to let this pass... or so I thought.

When he took me to the airport, he was completely silent; I couldn't tell if he was sulking or searching for something to say.. but I didn't really want to know. All I wanted was to get home to Lucy, and back to my work. We were almost to the gate when I felt his hand on my wrist- my heart skipped a beat, and for a moment I wanted to cry: not because of any emotion that he had poured into me, but because the weight of the hope that filled my heart in that moment was suffocating me. Why are you treating me like this? What changed to make you so angry toward me? I choked on metaphorical rocks and tightened my grip on my bags, as I quickened my pace. What had changed..? What hadn't changed? His grip tightened, and as he forced me to face him, I broke down inside. All of my carefully worded thoughts, refined by years of careful revision, came out a jumbled mess, completely destroyed. Maybe it was right around the time you started treating me as more of an investment, than a friend. By the time I realized what I had said, the damage had already been done. I cut myself off before I could say anything more, and looked away long enough to look back and die inside. The look on his face spoke loudly of the sacrifices he had made to keep the door between us open, and in the moments before it slammed shut, I caught a glimpse into the pain he had been suffering, and I knew that I had done something horrible. When he walked away, I panicked. For the first time in my life, I was terrified that if he left now, I would never see him again- I screamed his name, begged him to wait.. But it fell on deaf ears. Antonio was gone, and I thought, so was my heart- all because I had been so selfish, and so damn childish.

I spent a lot of my time reflecting on what had happened. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months into years. What had happened had left me so overwhelmed and consumed by emotion, I couldn't focus on my work. I spent most of my days staring at blank canvases, before giving up and getting out. I was miserable, lost.. why hadn't he told me something was wrong? Or better yet, why hadn't I told him? Why did I let it simmer for so long? After a few months of this, Lucy pulled me into his office as I was heading out the door. He had noticed the change in my behavior, and he was concerned. Quietly, I sat down on the couch beside him, and after a few moments of silent debate, told him everything. Lucy was not at all surprised to learn of what had been going on between us. I thought for sure that he would have become enraged by my interest in him, but instead, he was saddened. Antonio had been up front with him from the beginning about his feelings toward me, and though I'd been trying to hide it from him, Lucy knew that the feeling was mutual. Whether or not he was within his rights to disclose the details of Antonio's personal life, he took my hands in his, and told me everything- from his inability to form true, lasting bonds, to his lack of self-control, to the first time they had met... the time we had met... So many things suddenly became clear as day to me, and I felt any anger I had been holding onto melting away. Tears rolled freely down my cheeks when I realized that he had never stopped caring for me, not even when I had yelled at him in the airport.

I started seeing things much differently, after that- it was my first real lesson that things weren't always the way they appeared to be, which made me question a lot of decisions I had made in the past. I painted through my times of self-reflection... I did the usual restorations, some replications here and there, but spent a lot more time focusing on personal works. Through this new outlet, I was able to open my mind to a world of opportunity and inner peace. The paintings I created were like therapy for my wounded heart, and very slowly, day by day, I had started to heal. When I did see Antonio, I smiled, waved, sometimes made polite conversation when neither of us were too busy... I could tell that he liked it, and truthfully, I did too. I missed Antonio, very much. Time passed quickly, once I had found myself again- before I knew it, three years had passed, and I was spending most of my time at Gallery Openings and Auctions. Papa was busy with family business, and well.. Antonio, I hadn't seen in a long while either. Then one night, I came home and heard his voice on the other side of Lucy's door.. something about "getting the girls out before things get too bad"; when I opened the door and saw him, I smiled warmly. I'd missed the quiet flutter in his eyes when he looked at me... It turned out that Darcy had been getting rather brazen in his attacks, and Lucy had called on him to remove us from Chicago until things had calmed down; we left the very next morning and took his private jet to Sicily.
Despite the absence of my art supplies and other personal belongings, I found myself settling back into my old routine quite easily. Riley was a nervous wreck most days, so I spent a lot of my time trying to keep her calm and distracted- but it still left me with ample opportunity to smooth things over with Antonio. He never let us out of his or Will's sight, unless we had to use the restroom, and I instinctively took every opportunity I could to coax him out of his shell. I invited him along for walks or rides, led him in re-telling stories about what it had been like to live there.. he was hesitant at first, but loosened up the more he talked. Then finally, five days after we'd arrived, he caved to my charm. Sharing a hammock at sunset had always been one of our favorite things to do.. so when Riley had decided that she wanted some time alone, I invited him to join me; I didn't even have to repeat myself.

Conversation started out slow.. but that was the usual pace for those lengthy talks. Beautiful as ever.. isn't it? It's been too long since I've been able to really bask in its radiance... He murmured a quiet, contented agreement, adding something about how the city-scape always ruined the impact of even the most perfect sunsets. From there, we got to talking about what either of us had been up to- he told me that business had been rough, that they'd been fighting a "hard market" since they had returned to the states (I had a vague idea of what he meant).. I told him about the success that my Art Career had experienced in the last few years, the auctions, gallery openings... "Yeah..?" he asked with that crooked, coy grin, that always told me that he was a step ahead of me. "You knew.. didn't you?" I asked the obvious question. He let out a laugh as he turned his gaze toward the sky momentarily. "I've got quite the collection, actually.. you should see it." The joy that filled my heart in that moment swept me up so completely, all I could do was smile.. and blush. Lucy was right.. never had he stopped caring for me.
What about the rest of it..? You seeing anyone? The question caught me off guard, and I had to remember to breathe for a moment. "No," I answered truthfully, after a moment's hesitation. "To be honest, after Rom.. I realized a lot of things." I explained to him every revelation I'd experienced since then: how immature and rash my decisions had been, how I'd lacked respect not only for myself, but also for my friends and family.. how I had let myself become blinded by infatuation and had forgotten to take the time to get to know the person he was inside. I told him that I had sworn to myself that I would focus on getting my own life in line before I even thought about another relationship, because I was far from ready. I made it clear to him that although the situations hurt, I understood that it was a part of life that I had to experience in order to gain wisdom for the future.. and that although it may have seemed bad at the time, I was still able to take something good away from it. If it hadn't happened, I may not have learned who I truly was, because hardship strengthens character.
I'm sorry for the way I treated you, Antonio... I started quietly, as I watched him intently for his reaction. What I did was wrong- I should have voiced my concerns to you instead of allowing them to boil over in a moment of poor judgment. He was quiet.. but the distance in his eyes told me that he was not only listening, he was thinking. "... I miss the relationship we once shared.." After a few moments, a faint, reflective smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.. and stretched across his face. "So do I, Senna..." he admitted quietly. Had he not been laying right next to me, and my head on his shoulder, I might have had a harder time deciphering what he was feeling in that moment. With a smile and a laugh, I peered over at him and suggested that he start visiting more often, if that were the case... and he couldn't have agreed more.

The trip brought us closer together than ever before- so close, in fact, that in the last few hours before our departure, eight years of tough love and distant longing finally got the better of us. It was just one kiss.. but for us, it was so much more. It was a promise: a pact, that when the time was right, and life much simpler, we would be together. I never showed interest in any other man, after that... not even shallow physical attraction. Because I've found my Romeo, my Adonis.. and everyone else (except Papa..) pales in comparison to him. I truly love him with everything that is within me, and I simply cannot wait for the day he asks me to be his and his alone, because I will answer, without hesitation, "You are, and always have been, my heart's one true desire."

Story and content written by Sara J. Weber, and is copyrighted material.

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