“You’re just sulking because you know this was a genius move.” I’m trying not to smirk because that will really set him off.
He gives me a rare smile and grips my shoulder. “I have every faith that you will make our Boston move a success, as well as this marriage.”
We eat the little wedding cake Martina made for us. Cora takes one bite and moans in a way that is almost pornographic.
“Oh, my god, Martina! Whatisthis?”
“Oh, it’s nothing special,” she says demurely, “It’s a cassata cake with ricotta blueberry cream and a marzipan topping.”
“She must really like you,” Ekaterina says, “we never get this at home.”
It’s time for them to leave and I give my brother a meaningful stare. Ekaterina hugs my bride and hands her a phone. “So you can always call me if needed,” she says, “all the family numbers are already listed in the contacts.”
“Thank you!” Cora is genuinely touched and I’m feeling irritated at my sister-in-law because I’d intended to give her a phone tomorrow.
“Are you already trying to weasel in as her favorite Toscano?” I whisper as I hug Ekaterina goodbye.
“Between you and your brother?” she teases, “It’s not much of a competition.”
“I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you,” I said, but I kiss her cheek anyway.
Cora…
After everything that’s happened today, I think I could pass out right here on the terrace, even if I did sleep half the afternoon. The house is blissfully quiet after nearly everyone heads back to Naples.
Ekaterina is so kind, and wildly beautiful in that sophisticated Russian way, with blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Giovanni didn’t seem as stuffy as Dario described him, but he is definitely serious and stern, which I suppose Dons have to be. He looked uncannily like his brother, just as tall, with the dark hair and amber eyes that must be a Toscano trait.
Dario walks back out to the terrace where I’m lounging on a very comfortably cushioned chair, looking up at the stars. It’s dark tonight, with only a sliver of the moon. He’s carrying a champagne bottle and two glasses and it hits me with a sickening certainty that this man apparently intends this to be a full-service wedding day.
Oh, shit. I am not ready for this,I think wildly.
Dario, damn him, looks amazing. He’s taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and I can see colorful swirls of tattoos inching down his forearms. His tie is gone and a couple of buttons on his shirt are undone, showing just the right amount of chest hair and another tattoo - I think it’s a dragon - over his heart.
“Hey, hey hey-” I’m up and edging towards the door.
“Shh,Bellissima.Calm down,” he soothes me. “A toast to our union?” He deftly pops the cork and pours us each a glass, holding it out to me with an amused expression. “Relax, I’m not going to defile you. At least not right now.”
Glaring, I take it, letting him tap his glass to mine with a gentleclink.We each take a sip in silence, looking out over the tidy rows of vines.
“I like Ekaterina,” I blurt nervously. I don’t like the quiet between us. It feels loaded, with too much unsaid.
“She’s been very good for Giovanni, pulled that stick at least halfway out of his ass,” he agreed, making me laugh.
“I’m guessing you and your brother are pretty competitive?” I asked.
“No, not really,” he said. “We just approach things differently.” There’s that grin again.
“Has he been the Don of yourfamigliafor very long?”
“We lost our father suddenly a couple of years ago,” he said, a flicker of grief creasing his face. “Gio had to put out so many fires, I don’t think he slept for months. I’m genuinely looking forward to taking some of the burden off his shoulders.”
“And you think you can use my father to make this happen in Boston?” I asked skeptically.
“Of course,” he said without expression. Completely certain, as if he knew just exactly what kind of asshole he was dealing with. Hell, maybe he did.
Takes one to know one,I thought.
“I’m done here.” I stood up, putting my glass on the table with an angry little ‘clink!’ “I’m going to bed.”
