“I think he recognizes you already,” she said, her voice soft.
Renzo chuckled, the rich sound filling the room. “He probably wonders why I talk so much.”
Mimi smiled, shifting closer until their shoulders touched. The air between them felt warmer now, a subtle connection threading through the quiet moment.
But the warmth, the shared connection, would disappear the minute they were out of Luca’s presence. And Mimi knew suddenly, despite wondering if she was shortchanging her son, that she couldn’t bear to live like this anymore.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“What’s this?” Mimi saida couple of hours later, staring at the official-looking envelope sitting on her pillow with her name scrawled on top.
It had taken them a long time to get Luca settled into his crib. She wondered if her own restlessness had triggered his crankiness.
The connecting door clicked behind Renzo. She turned to find him undoing the buttons on his shirt. Tension arced between them, sexual and otherwise.
He looked tired, with deep grooves settling under his eyes and around his mouth. In a moment, her frustration with him melted away.
She longed to go to him, to cradle his cheeks and brush her mouth against his, to feel his solid strength around her. She longed to offer him solace in whatever way she could.
But she wasn’t sure if her efforts would be welcome, and that hurt immensely. She didn’t know if he would welcome her admission of love either, or scoff at her for being such an easy fool. Nothing in her life had prepared her for facing him with that admission.
When he remained silent, she bristled. “Please don’t tell me it’s another gift.”
“I had a lot of meetings with my lawyers this past week,cara. It was convenient to take care of this too.” His own frustration resonated in his words now. “And I don’t get what is so strange about a husband arranging things for his wife. You’re the one who calls them gifts.”
With that parting shot, he went into the closet.
Mimi followed him, her patience dwindling with this cat and mouse game they were playing.
The colorful designer clothes hanging on her side of the closet, along with multiple boxes of expensive jewelry, brought her problem with him to the forefront. All the things Renzo insisted on buying for her, despite her protests.
She was Renzo DiCarlo’s wife, as much as she didn’t like to wear that as some kind of mantle. As such, there was always a certain amount of interest in her.
So yes, it made sense to upgrade her wardrobe and obtain some jewelry pieces and accessories.
She told herself that it was all part of a costume for a play she sometimes participated in. Especially since, whether she was dressed in designer duds or her usual black leggings and loose sweatshirts, the way he looked at her never changed.
It had begun with the equipment he had delivered to her, even before Luca had come home—expensive, state-of-the-art cameras and other accessories that she was afraid to even touch. Equipment that had made her drool like a child in a pastry shop.
She had refused at first, even though every inch of her had protested. And the rogue had persuaded her to keep it by kissing her, by telling her that if she was serious about her career, then she needed to invest in proper equipment.
Then had come the search for a house. An estate they had finally found near Milan to Renzo’s satisfaction—on the edge of Lake Como, to be precise—because Renzo insisted that at some point, Luca would need more space to play, and a sterile, monochromatic penthouse was the last place for a child.
And yet when his personal lawyer had come to have her sign some papers, Mimi had realized that the mansion had been deeded in her name. And another place in London, because her work might take her back to the city, and they needed a stable place for Luca.
Again, she had hotly protested. Again, he had convinced her that it made sense to have some properties in her name, that it was the wedding gift he had never given her. A place where they would build a bigger family, if they wanted to, at some point in the future.
The only thing that had stopped her from shouting that she wanted that with him was the flash of something in his eyes. And suddenly, she began to see the pattern.
Renzo bought her things—expensive houses and jewelry and video equipment.
Renzo was setting up properties for her, ostensibly, that were far away from where he would be most of the time, away from Venice, which was his main base.
Was he slowly trying to build a long-distance, perfectly polite marriage? Was he already bored with the domesticity Luca, and she, had forced on him?
For all that his family treated him as if he was an eternal fount granting their desires, he was only a man. There was no doubt that he was burnt out after Santo’s death.
Did he resent her and Luca too, as being too needy, too dependent on him after all the responsibilities he had shouldered all his life?
