Nino went to the stereo system, fiddled with it for a second, and then pressed play. A sensual song poured from the speakers. He started to dance with himself. A laugh bubbled from my chest and exploded out of my mouth.
“Is this how it is done, Signora Fausti?”
Guido and Vincenzo came over. Vincenzo handed me a glass of red wine. I lifted it insaluti.
“No wonder he is not married,” Guido said. “Something must be done about this.Subito.”
It really was a travesty. I had no ideawhathe was doing, or who he imagined doingitwith, but I was almost frightened. Some claim that the moves one makes while dancing depicts their moves in the bedroom. God help Nino’s partner. He’d be all over her like a jockey on a racehorse.
“Can you help him?” Vincenzo leaned in and asked.
“No.” I laughed some more. “I can’t even help that—was he just lassoing the air?”
“Mamma mia!” Guido said, closing his eyes. “I cannot watch another second of this. He should be fined a large sum.”
“Is he dancing?” I asked. “Or riding a horse?”
Even Nino laughed. The three of us were near hysterics when Brando came in, wiping his feet on the rug by the door, bringing the cold air with him from outside.
He had been to see Rocco about business and family affairs. Rosaria had caught a cold that she had yet to get rid of, and Rocco refused to leave her. Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola had been staying with them.
Brando stopped dead in his tracks, watching. His eyes narrowed. “What’s he doing to our pillow?”
“Dancing with it,” I said. “I think. It’s questionable.”
“Brucialo,” he said,burn it, and then his eyes found mine, but not for long. He took me in from head to toe with a slow appraisal that made my cheeks burn. I didn’t miss the subtle pause when he came to the cut of the dress, or the set of his mouth after taking it in.
“How’s Rosaria?” I asked to break the tension.
With a casual fling, he threw his bag on the sofa and then waved a hand. I took that to mean, “she’s still sneezing.” Uncle Tito said she had allergies. Allergies, influenza, the plague, it made no difference to Rocco. It all meant sick. The Fausti men were all known to expand on simple diagnoses, demanding that a cure come tomorrow because they had ordered it.
The wave of Brando’s hand also sent the men deeper into the house, to their rooms. We were all alone. We stood there for a while, both of us ogling. He had changed at Rocco’s into all black. I could hardly keep up the intense eye contact.
It was getting much too hot in the room; the music in the background only increased the mood and the heat.
“Stai fissando, mio marito,” I whispered.
“You’d stare, too.” He cleared his throat and then cocked his pointer finger at me, bidding me to come to him. Even though I was wearing heels, he was much taller than me. I had to look up to meet his gaze—he set his finger under my chin, tilting it up so that I couldn’t look away.
One hand caressed my neck before he entwined his fingers in my hair, and the other slid around my waist, closing the gap between us. In slow motion, he came closer, our noses touching. Just close enough to kiss, but not.
Sliding the tip of his nose against mine, he moved even lower, along my jaw, over my chin, against my neck, down the deep slope of the dress, and when he came back up, it was his tongue that traced the route.
He stopped just short of kissing me. “I’ll just be a minute,” he said in Italian. “I need to get my nice coat.” Then he grinned when I started to pout.
“I’ll wait here,” I said.
He shook his head, then took the glass of wine from me and set it on the table. He entwined our hands and led me into our bedroom.
“Afraid I might get into trouble on my own, Fausti?”
“I can never be too careful with you, Ballerina Girl. That dress is giving me heart palpitations.”
“In that case—” I shoved at his chest and he went over on to the bed, on his back, feigning that I had pushed him too hard. “Relax yourself, Stallion. I’ll get your coat.”
He put his hand against his chest, using it to mimic the beat of his heart—fast and irregular.
I laughed myself into the closet, searching for his dress coat. Though I couldn’t see him in the shadows, I felt him. He watched me, one arm against the door of the bathroom.
