I flung the lip-gloss in the bag and then turned—his hands moved with me, the heat of them burning though the thin material—handing him his folded shirt off the counter.
“What about Ettore?” I looked up into his eyes. His lashes fanned out across his cheeks, long and thick, coated with water droplets. “Do I get to dance with him, too? Or is that all you,mio marito?”
“I took care of it,” he said.
“Not good enough.”
“Tell me what you want from me, Scarlett.”
“How about honesty? What the fuck happened, Brando?”
He didn’t like that answer—he closed in on me, his eyes hard, his muscles tense. “I know my wife has thorns now, and if she keeps it up, each one will be lodged in my heart.”
“All right,” I whispered, placing my hands against his throat, feeling for his pulse. It was frantic. “Give me honesty.”
He sighed. “We let it drop after this and enjoy our night.”
“Promise,” I said.
“Nemours is dead.”
The statement hung in the air between us, thicker than the mist that shrouded us in a haze.
“What?” I breathed.
“Nemours is dead.”
“I don’t believe it,” I hardly got out. I didn’t know if I believed it or not, but those words had slipped out—gut feeling?
“No, neither does Ettore.”
“You?”
He shrugged. “No, but it’s a good thought. Almost worth celebrating.”
“The man—his cousin? The one in Paris? Could it be—”
“It could,” he said, watching my face carefully. “I’ll talk to Donato and Guido. If there’s something to be done or to be found, we’ll do it and find it. But as of now, we move on as though therattolives. Nothing changes. If it’s too good to be true, it usually is. A sudden free trip to Fiji when you’re as broke as a bad fucking joke.”
I don’t know why, but I smiled at that.
“There’s my girl,” he said, touching my chin and then holding it in his hand. “Your face breaks my heart—you are so beautiful. It does my soul good when you smile.”
I rose up on my bare toes, closing my eyes and giving him a lingering kiss.
“No one but me,” he said, lifting me off my feet and planting me on the counter. “Stasera e sempre.”Tonight and always.
He lost the towel and went for his clothes.
* * *
I felt dizzy with stars. They swirled behind closed lids, streaking when I twirled, and when I opened my eyes, their imprints glowed as brightly as the moon.
The food was filling, the atmosphere perfect, and the company even better. Music that fed the soul echoed in the air, and Brando, being a man of his word, refused to let anyone else dance with me the entire night.
That was all right; he was my favorite partner.
Our feet were dirty, and our hands were entwined. Lights hung over the porch, the kind that reminded me of stars, and over the bayou, the real deal burned for as far as the eye could see. A few reflections were strong enough to play over the darkened water.
