He erupted into a fit of laughter that I only occasionally heard from him. It was a rare treat.
“Brando,” I said, rising to the challenge of sitting up. At least I did it with a grin. “Are you losing your mind?”
“Yeah,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You’re driving me there.”
“Why? What did I do now?”
He refused to look at me, and I knew it was because he was trying not to lose it again. My hand came up to feel my hair. Numerous strands were standing straight up, reminding me of porcupine quills.
“H-hell.” He started laughing again. “You went after one of the most feared men in the world. You called his father a bastard, to his face. And all he could say was…bella!”
I pinched him on the arm and he laughed even harder.
“You vibrate when you g-get angry.” He shook himself, mimicking me. “A little b-bee determined to take down Goliath.”
“You should take a hint. Don’t mess—” I couldn’t even finish my remark. His laughter was too contagious, and I caught it.
We both laughed like loons, and after a while I sighed as he wiped the tears from my eyes.
“It feels good to wake up laughing, doesn’t it?” I nudged him with my knee.
“You’re the only one that I’ve ever laughed like that with.” He ran his finger against his lip, absorbing my tears.
“Ah.” I smiled. “I was your first.”
He settled, resting his back against my leg. We became quiet, letting the lighthearted feeling of the morning settle in our bones.
“The workers are here,” he said finally.
He had on a white tank top, khaki pants, and work boots. He was ready to get to work. All of those muscles working…my heart started beating overtime. A sense of anticipation streaked like lightning in the blood.
“I looked over your plans.” He leaned over, grabbed the cup of coffee from the table next to the bed, and handed it to me. I took it between my palms with thanks. “You did good, baby.”
The cup stilled before it reached my lips. “You really think so?”
“I do.” He squeezed my knee. “It’s time to get up. You’re going to walk the villa with me.”
I put the cup down and nodded. I lifted the cross from my neck. “This is the first piece. I found this here.” I pointed behind me, showing him where I had found the gold chain draped across the headboard. I told him how I got the feeling the woman who owned the piece of jewelry wore her faith proudly around her neck. “She probably needed it, if her husband was anything like mine. It belonged to your grandmother.”
The pendant was a reminder that she was only human, and she had someone more powerful to confide in, to direct her, when her Italian husband was being stubborn. The man was my husband’s grandfather. Was he still alive? And if so, would my husband be like him?
His eyes melted to milk chocolate. “Faith. It looks beautiful on you, my grace,” he said in Italian.
I loved how he always made me feel like I was the one who accentuated the piece, not the other way around. Looking down at my hands, I felt the blood rise to my cheeks in a stinging rush. He noticed, but he didn’t comment. When he leaned over to kiss me, I placed a pillow between us.
“I need to brush my teeth,” I muttered.
He flung the pillow off, giving me a look that said he wasn’t to be trifled with. Then he kissed me, and there was no recourse but to react in kind. When he pulled away, he said, “Your mouth either tastes like mint or it’s sweet. So sweet.”
Probably because when I woke at all different times throughout the night, I brushed my teeth, even during the day—I was a fiend about it, but he didn’t need to knowallof my secrets.
He gave me a knowing look, one that said he knew that I was a fiend about it. Then he told me to meet him when I was done.
I didn’t even bother showering, knowing a full day of sweat waited. I threw on a white tank top with a pair of green military pants that were stained with droplets of paint and other hazardous materials that came with redoing an old villa. I dug through Brando’s bag and found a white handkerchief he used to catch sweat while out on the rig to secure around my head.
I slipped on my work boots and met him in the hall. He was talking to Luigi, one of the workers, and when he spotted me, he stopped talking.
“You ready to get to work, Signore Fausti?” I asked.
