“You still have one more to go. But that one’s not really for you.”
Her eyes glazed over with tears as she stared at the next gift. I had commissioned the man known as the Music Keeper, the one who made Scarlett’s music box, to create one for the baby. Stained glass the color of sapphire and azurite created an almost stitched-together pattern, and a whimsical moon stood out with a silver lining. When it was opened, the pattern of the stars on December 11, the night the baby was conceived and our anniversary, lit up inside with white lights, while a piano rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” played.
The Music Keeper thought it would add a special touch.
I cleared my throat and then touched the underside of the music box. “After the baby is born, we can have—his or her name engraved and his or her birthdate.”
“Brando.” She said my name so low that I barely heard her.
I had a terrible urge to reach over and wipe the tears running down her cheeks, but she was too engrossed in the gift, and the urge to let her enjoy the moment warred with that one.
“This is…perfect,” she said finally. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded and then reached out her hand to mine. She squeezed so hard that my wedding ring bit into my flesh. “It is. I love all of these gifts.” She sniffed. “But if this was all…this is…everything. I couldn’t ask for anything more than this.”
Pushing her seat back, she kept her hand in mine, moving to my side of the table. She sat on my lap, curling into me as best as she could. “Brando. Take me home.”
“Tell me what’s wrong, Scarlett.”
“I—I don’t know.”
My heart started to beat harder in my chest. She had been up and down all evening. “All right.” I rubbed her back. “It’ll only take a few minutes to get there.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I want to go back to the villa.”
“Scarlett.”
“Just for another day or two. Please.”
Going back to Tuscany didn’t feel like a safe option to me. She could go into labor at any moment. I felt comfortable with her care in Rome.
“Take me home,” she whispered. “Please.”
I didn’t have it in me to deny her. She felt comfortable there. I’d give her one day.
On the way out of the hotel, a trickle of unease, as cold as ice water, ran down my spine.
A monster lurked in the shadows. Ettore. He had been waiting for me.
I helped Scarlett into the car and then gave the driver orders. “Keep the doors locked. If anything happens, take off. Take my wife to the arranged place.”
“Brando!”
“I’ll be a minute, baby.”
If I didn’t speak to him, he would come knocking at our door. I didn’t want him anywhere near my wife. The fact that he was in Italy spoke volumes. For him to cross our lines meant that change was coming. A change in ranks, in the order of the inner workings of thefamiglia. He wouldn’t be here if someone hadn’t guaranteed his safety. In a matter of days, Lothario would be in touch. Ettore must have just arrived, and the news hadn’t spread.
He had chosen to grace me with his presence first.
“Zio.” I nodded.
“Nipote.” He returned the nod.
We regarded each other for a minute or two, eye-to-eye, nose to nose. In the darkness, I matched the monster he was. On the streets of Rome, we were two of the most dangerous creatures that lingered.
“Congratulations are in order,” he said in Italian. “Some women are even more beautiful with child. Your wife, the witch, is one of them.”
