It was a stare-off, long and painful. When it became crystal clear that Vittoria was not going to back down, Marco’s jaw flexed, he put a finger to his earpiece and hit the button, awaiting instructions, continuously glaring at her.

The alert came through. I hit the button on the app and spoke into my phone, loud and clear. “Let her go, but keep a close eye on her.”

Marco lowered his finger from his earpiece and forced a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Enjoy your swim, Mrs. Scala.”

With her head held high, Vittoria walked on through as Marco followed close behind. She placed her things down on a reclining outdoor chair, approached the edge of the pool and did not hesitate when she dove in. She spent half an hour doing laps of the length of the pool with Marco's eagle eye on her and when she was done, she stepped out, huffing and puffing, then sat on the chair and dried off before gathering her things and turning back to the house.

Again, Marco tailed the small woman until she was safely inside.

The moment she walked into the house, the jig was up. Her confident demeanor fell and her body crumpled with it. She leaned back against the door, put a shaking hand to her chest, breathing heavily with a look of disbelief etched onto her face. And then, a bubble of laughter climbed her throat. She closed her eyes and laughed softly, saying, “Oh my God. Oh my God.” Her laughter continued. “I can’t believe that worked.”

It was the first time I heard it and I couldn’t help but notice what pretty laughter she had.

A small smile stretched at my mouth. Ah, Jesus. I felt like an idiot. Why was I smiling?

Because my wife is fucking adorable.

She was. She really was. I couldn’t wait to see what she got up to tomorrow.

On day twenty-three, it started. She costumed up, marched downstairs and threw open the front door. When Ivan turned to face her, she looked him dead in the eye and demanded, “You’re going to pass a message on for me. I want to speak to my husband.” Before he had a chance to respond, the door slammed shut in his face and then I watched as Vittoria’s expression turned restless.

Day twenty-four, twenty-five and twenty-six were very much the same, only her demand to speak to me grew more irate every time she made it.

By day twenty-seven, her spirit broke. This time, as she barked the order to speak to me, I didn’t miss the way her lips trembled. When she slammed the door shut and slid down the length of it, her bottom hit the floor and she burst into quiet sobs. My chest ached when she placed her forehead onto her upturned knees, fisted her hands and smacked herself weakly across the head, over and over again.