“You mean like a diver, no? That rises from the mysterious depths of the water to break the surface for the one he loves.Sì. It can be the same thing. You can make it as you wish,bella. The villa is here for you, not the other way around.”
I laughed quietly. “If I said those same words out loud, I’d sound like a cliché.”
“We cannot all be born Italian. Lucky for you—” she pinched my cheek “—you are married to one!”
“Sì.” My cheeks warmed. “I am that.”
“What do you say to this place now?”
I leaned over the balcony, grinning like a fool. Gazing at the stars here with my telescope would be spectacular.
“Sì, we’ll take it.”
* * *
Rosaria assured me that nothing was a problem. She told me that we could stay the night. The villa was already mine.
“What about papers? Money?”
She shrugged. “He is family. It will all work out. Do not worry,bella. Have faith in me. The other things will happen. We will start tomorrow.”
We sat at the kitchen table all night, the only light from the candles, and drew up some plans for the vision I had. I wanted to keep every antique aspect, just add a few new amenities, some fresh paint, and fix that damn cabinet. It still hung crookedly, and a lump had formed on my head.
“Four to five months. Tops.” She waved a hand over our crude drawings. “You have good taste.”
She told me we would go into town tomorrow to start the business part of the transaction. Then I could have her Ferrari to come back toDare Alla Luce,where the men would be waiting for me to get started.
“So soon?”
“Sì. I know people.”
I didn’t doubt it.
“I want to keep this a secret. I want this to be a surprise for my husband.”
“Trust me,bella.” Rosaria threw her head back and laughed. “If I were in the same room with him, we would not talk.”
I pinched her.
“Ahhh…I like that.” She winked. “Now. About your hair.”
My hand instinctively went to the top of my head, where the silk scarf was still tied. “What about my hair?”
She plucked the fabric. “You need something fresh.”
“Has anyone ever told you how rude you can be?”
Her mouth twisted to the side, and she rolled her eyes. She said dramatically, “Sì. But it is not being rude if I am telling you the truth.”
“I’m a ballet dancer. I need long hair!”
“You are not dancing now? It will grow.”
“I—”
“Is it Olivier Nemours?”
“H-how did you know about him?”
