* * *
Quiet was what I found when I walked through the door. I was thankful for it. Violet was gone and so was Maggie Beautiful. It was just the old place and me. It seemed to accept me as is, without judgment.
I needed an escape, one that didn’t include physical exertion to tire me out, so I decided to drown my sorrows in a bottle of Chianti and lay naked in the sun until I turned into a crisp. The sun was still high, sharing enough warmth and light for me to enjoy before it faded into night.
Thinking ahead, I lit every candle, knowing that I’d probably be too lost to tears and the bottle to even want to get up after a while. I had situated the lounger in front of the terrace for times like these. I settled into the arms of the fabric, so plush against my naked skin. The sun lent its ardor to hurt feelings.
I was much lonelier than I had let on. Being alone only reinforced the feeling. I missed his love, his touch, his safety. I simply missedhim.
After drinking and gazing out at the garden beyond, I cried slow, painful tears. The last thing I remembered was lifting the bottle to the sun, toasting the oncoming lonely night, before succumbing to sadness.
Somewhere in the sea of unconsciousness, I felt another presence with me, rather than comprehended it. I blinked before my eyes fully opened. The sun had lowered, just entering into that stage where it coats the world in a gold haze before it surrenders. The dark shape of a man was outlined in the doorframe.
The humming was so loud in my ears that I knew it was the vibrating that had woken me up, not his actual presence. Brando was still offshore—
I almost fell over my own two feet trying to stand, the wine still lingering in my blood, and grabbed for the discarded dress on the floor. I covered myself with it, as thin as it was, trying to hide my bare skin.
“Roc—” The name died in my throat. I took a small step forward. “Brando?”
He heard my mistake, but he didn't react. He stood there, as still as if I had just imagined him. I hadn’t. His chest rose and fell in a way that told me he was prepared to pounce. The tick in his jaw pulsed. His face was hard, more settled than the ancient stone walls.
“I thought—” I swallowed the uncertainty down hard.
I was torn. An internal gravitational field that lived inside of me was being sucked into his, and my feet moved toward him without the power of will. But his cool distance caused me to falter when I reached up to touch his face.
“You don’t have to cover up for me,bella.”
A few expletives went through my head at those words. It was almost eerie, the similarity in tone and intonation. Instead of shriveling away from the heat, I shivered from the intense cold.
“No,” I said, dropping the dress, baring myself to him. “I don’t.”
I knew that my husband was beautiful, but after a prolonged absence, it was like a thief that stole the breath from my lungs. Hesitant, oh so hesitant, I touched his face.Oh dear God, he felt so good in my hands. His hands were to his sides, and one finger drummed against his leg, trying to expel the hardened emotions he felt.
I placed his hand against my breast and moaned, melting into him, into the simple but perfect way that our bodies seemed to fit together. “Touch me,” I whispered onto his skin. When he refused, I took his other hand, placing it between my thighs, already saturated with want. The wetness glistened in reflection of the lowering sun. “Touch me.Please.”
He looked down at me, his eyes finally finding mine, and the anger I found almost caused me to retreat. Still, I refused to budge.
“Tell me who this place belongs to, Scarlett.”
Notbaby,notBallerina Girl, notmy wife, ormia moglie, justScarlett, and it had been for a while. My heart ached, my body trembled, and I quelled the urge to smack him.
“You!” I roared, releasing his hands, smacking him in the chest, all restraint lost. I took a step back.
He stepped into the light fully, towering over me. We swapped glowers like punches. He was winning, because before I knew it, my back was on the bed and he stared over me, lewdly taking in my body.
“No.” He shook his head, eyes flaring. “This isn’t mine, only what’s in it.”
“Oh, me, you mean?” I threw my head back and laughed. “Yes, that’s yours too, you stubborn…beast! But you forgot about me, didn’t you? You hadworkto do.”
“Don’t lie to me, Scarlett.”
“Lie to you? When have I ever LIED to you?”
“You’ve been lying. You’re lying now.”
“No!” I ripped myself from his stare, coming to my knees, shoving against his chest. “I have secrets!”
“Same difference.”
