I sighed, straightening, admiring how gorgeous the gold fabric was against my skin. The dress showed off my shoulders, and the sequins danced under the soft lights in our bathroom. I had put my hair up because he liked to take it down.
Movement from the corner of my eye made me jump a little. Then I put my hand over my throat, smiling, but my heart raced. Not from the scare, but from him. His tux was black and his tie gold—it enhanced the color of his eyes. They glowed dark amber against his black hair and tan skin.
He was careful that he did not step on the hem of the dress as he came closer to me, slipping his hands over my hips. “You finally bought something on your own,” he said.
I smiled. “The day we went to Milan. I wanted to surprise you.” I fixed his tie, even though it was straight. “Grazie, mio marito.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For all of this—” I gestured with a hand around the bathroom, even though I meant the entire house. “For the clothes. Foryou. For everything.”
“I’m actually a selfish bastard,” he said. “I didn’t buy the clothes for you. I bought them for me.”
I looked up at him, confused.
He grinned. “So I can see you in them.”
“And take them off?”
“Guaranteed,” he said.
I tapped at his tie. “Will you tell me where we are going now?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” He offered me his arm and I took it.
A car I had never seen before was waiting for us. It was all black, even the windows, and it had the name Bugatti on the back. Adriano stood close by, keeping guard.
Corrado opened my door and helped me in.
A second later he took off, and I looked behind us. “The other men are not coming?” Usually it was a cavalcade.
“No. Only Adriano and Nunzio tonight. The place we’re going has enough security. The Faustis will be there.”
“Ah,” I breathed out, and then looked out of the window. I was familiar with the Faustifamiglia.
Amadeo was close to them, and usually, whenever he was around, so were they. After Amadeo’s grandfather’s funeral, Rocco Fausti was one of the reasons I had decided to leave. He was married to the famed opera singer Rosaria Caffi, but they had an arrangement. They fooled around with other people. Rocco made me an offer, and I turned him down. It was not something I was comfortable with.
I could have told Rocco about Junior, but I did not want to involve them. I did not want to owe them. Anything.
It did not feel like we were in the car long before we pulled up to La Scala.
I turned in my seat. “The opera?” I should have known. We were listening to opera music on the ride.
Corrado nodded. “It’s a special night. There’s a certain dress code—women in gowns and men in tuxedos. The proceeds from ticket sales go to a charity.”
That made sense. The Faustifamigliawere big on charitable events. The fancier, the better.
Corrado left the car running as he got out, and Adriano came from behind and slid into the driver’s seat. Corrado only trusted Adriano and Nunzio to watch or park his cars.
“This is something out of a dream,” I said as we walked hand in hand into the theater. The air was cool, and I could smell the history floating in it. It was like opening a very old book in a chilled room. I wondered what story it would be telling tonight.
“L’Europa Riconosciuta,” Corrado answered after I had asked. “It was the premiere performance when the house first opened in 1778.”
We were running late, so we took our seats right away. Nunzio sat on Corrado’s side; Adriano sat on mine. No one could get close to us.
My eyes took in the boxes along the walls. They were lined in red velvet, and the details on the outside were done in gold. I narrowed my eyes some. In the box directly across from the stage, I thought I recognized Rocco and Rosaria, along with Uncle Tito and his wife, Lola.
I glanced down at my program. Rosaria’s younger sister, who was also a soprano, was starring in the show. They were one of Italy’s finest opera families. I thought maybe the couple next to them was Brando, Rocco’s older brother, and his wife, Scarlett. She was a famous ballerina. They had a picture of her in the hallway on the way to the theater.
