What’s wrong?Such a loaded fucking question. Everything, since she left for rehearsal.
“Bacchi put his hands on you today,” I said.
Her eyes froze and her mouth opened. She closed it, and then it pinched. “You know damn well that he did!” she snapped. “What’s this about?”
“I don’t like it.” My voice was low, but no doubt, she heard the threat.
She shoved at my chest with her free hand. “I don’t have time for this…this nonsense!”
“Nonsense.” I refused to let her move. “If it were my hands all over another woman’s body? Even for work?”
Her thoughts worked as fast as thunder and lightning. I could see the journey of them through her eyes, through her facial expressions.
“You’re right,” she said, her voice as low as mine. “You’re right.”
Then her head fell to my chest, and my temper fizzled out, leaving nothing but regret in its wake. I didn’t have time to recover from the onslaught of pictures. To drown out all of the irrelevant thoughts that came to mind.
“It’s never bothered you before. Why didn’t you say something?”
I couldn’t even speak. It never bothered me before because I never stared at pictures of them for hours. I forced myself to become blissfully ignorant.
She looked up at me. “Can we talk about this later? I need to talk about this. I’ve been thinking, about things. But I really have to get back. Take me? Please?”
I nodded.
She kept close to me as I suited up again, and then we headed out into the cold once more.
* * *
Rocco met me on my way back inside our brownstone. I could tell he had taken note of my mood, but he didn’t comment, either because he knew I wouldn’t talk or because he noticed Eunice getting ready to leave.
“I’m just going around the block to Donato and Chiara’s.” Eunice made three rounds with the scarf around her neck and pushed her hat down on her head. “Lola has some good olive oil for me!”
Tito and Lola were living with Donato and Chiara, since Lola liked to be close to the smaller children. Little Donato kept the old couple busy when we didn’t. Chiara had taken a position with the same theatre as Scarlett, and so family was there to look after the boy.
“I will have one of the men take you,” Rocco offered.
She waved him off. “I need some fresh air. Oh, and Violet has gone. She said to tell you everything has been delivered, Brando.”
I thanked her and she left, shutting the door with a quiet click. I inhaled. The entire room smelled of roses and winter, and the smell sent me down memory lane. After a moment, I gestured for Rocco to sit.
“Let’s talk,” I said.
He took a seat. I took the one across from him.
“Those pictures touched you,fratello.”
“You saw them.”
He nodded. “It is hard to see, even though it is just acting.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I usually look the other way when the time comes.”
“I understand. I do not like it much, either.”
Rosaria and Rocco had somehow patched up their relationship and had kept all they could salvage. The rest, they tossed. They had started anew. Rosaria was a world-renowned opera singer. Her job called for her to act too. But their marriage was still something I’d have refused for myself. It had been open before the ink dried on the marriage certificate.
“I’m assuming Scarlett is not the reason you came over here,” I said.
