I nodded my understanding. Lothario had had a reason to go after Ettore before, in honor of the spilled blood of his father, but now? Scarlett had insulted him, told him he was no longer welcome in our life. This gave him an excuse to pull his support from me—to save face—unless Ettore brought more trouble to him in Italy. More than likely, Lothario hoped Ettore finished me off.
I had the feeling that Ettore not going back to Italy was partially due to Luca, too. He was using him to get to me. Lothario killing Ettore meant it was over—and Luca couldn’t use him for other purposes, such as this one.
Luca had always wanted me, but I had never been in his debt. I hadn’t asked for him to put a leash on Ettore, but he did, and just that quick, he felt he held something over my head.
Eunice exploded through the door, letting out a longwhew!afterward. She clutched three bottles of olive oil to her breast. “I think the olive oil is frozen!” she said and giggled.
Rocco and I gave each other a nod. Conversation over.
* * *
The house seemed to come alive when she walked in it. I knew at once when she had come through the door. A feeling sparked through me, too. I hadn’t gone to get her this evening, having Guido and two other men escort her home. I needed to finish a few things before she arrived.
“Brando?” she called. “I’m going to shower. You need to tell me how to dress! Oh!” I heard her stop, the intake of her breath, and the release of it on a sigh.
I stepped out from the shadows, head to toe in all black, offering her a glass of red wine. It glowed like rubies against all of the white and silver.
Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the hundreds of candles placed around the brownstone, and her cheeks were flushed with cold and surprise.
She touched one of the thousands of white Dutch roses that climbed from floor to ceiling. They coated one entire wall like paint.
“This is…” Her voice came out soft. She ran a delicate hand over one of the roses, feeling its petals. “I’ll have roses for a very long time.”
“Always,” I said.
We grinned at each other. Any awkwardness lingering from earlier dissipated in light of the moment.
I reached out a hand for her and she took it, her fingers as cold as ice. I led her toward the stairs, bringing her upstairs.
“Are we staying in?” she whispered.
“We can go out.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This is perfect. But I’d still like some time to change.”
“I thought so.”
The roses continued up the stairs, except these were red, taking over the entire second floor.
Her wide eyes took it all in. “Even our room,” she said. “Brando. I can’t believe you did all of this.”
She turned in the center of the room, catching sight of three framed posters over the mantle. The telescope I had given her as a wedding gift stood in front of the fire, pointed up at the three. Her eyes narrowed and she took slow steps forward. She had decorated the entire house, so for something to be different—she took notice.
Her hand came up, caressing the first glass. The fire below seemed to bring the lines to life, all of the stars blinking in response to the heat.
“This is…”
“Yeah,” I said, coming to stand beside her. I touched the first picture, running my hand over the name, date, and time at the bottom. “Star maps. Each one shows how the constellations were at specific times. The first is from the night I watched you dance in the window of your parents’ studio. The second is from our wedding day. The third is how the constellations are tonight.”
Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the firelight. “‘You hold the map to my kingdom come.’” She read the description that linked them together. “I—” She turned, sobbing into my chest.
Not the reaction I wanted, but I knew she was overwhelmed. She loved the stars. Sometimes they made her cry, like a sad song on the radio.
“The—the stars are not so bright here,” she said, gasping for air, “and I can see them—”
I caressed her back. “A bath. It’ll help you relax.”
She sniffed. “I smell something good, too, on the stove. What is it?”
