Brando.His name led me back to why I had no appetite. We were close to dinner and he still hadn’t made it back with Livio. Santina or not. Lothario was patient, but I didn’t want Brando to push it. His uncle’s visit was not merely social. He had made that point clear enough.
And what about the meat?I thought. I would have to ask Rocco to take over soon. And if there are two things a man doesn’t like—my man, especially—it was another man touching his grill or his wife.
Enzo laid a hand on my arm, smiling down at me. I pulled my arm free, giving him a polite nod in return.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked.
“Sì.You are a wonderful cook.”
“I can’t take all of the credit. I had help.” I motioned to Apollonia, Eunice, and Carmen, who all looked over the spread, laughing at something Niccolo had said.
One of the ladies helping went to breeze by but stopped to offer Enzo another glass of wine when she noticed his empty glass. He thanked her and she filled his cup.
“Would you like something, Signora Fausti?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” I said, shaking my head.
“What about your apron? Shall I take it for you?”
I laughed and she smiled. I handed it over with another round of thanks.
“My cousin is a lucky man. I understand now what the fuss is all about,” Enzo said, smiling into his glass before he took a deep, gulping sip.
Ha!I thought to myself. If he were a woman, it would be, “What is the fuss about?”It never ceased to amaze me how people saw the same thing so differently. I tended to agree with the women. Whatwasthe fuss about? I was just like anyone else. Eyes and teeth, two hands, two feet…
“I have seen you in magazines. I appreciated the one of you in a nude leotard,” he went on. “Your dancing, I hear it is legendary. Read about it, as well.”
I hid my sigh at theaha!moment.
“This is why Ettore caused such a fuss. He knew you would bring thefamigliamore revenue.”
The mention of Ettore’s name caused goosebumps to seize my skin. A cold wind had blown over my body, though the temperature touched eighty, at least.
“Where do you stand in this war?” I laid it all out, not bothering with niceties. I hadn’t been paying much attention to him before, but he suddenly had my full scrutiny.
He sighed. I could smell Chianti on his tongue, laced with garlic and rosemary. “I do not know,” he said. “I have not seen you dance. However.” He smiled, upper lip curling. “I felt it when I touched you in the kitchen. You hold the lightning captive in your hands. This is why you dance as you do.” He pointed at Paolo, who sat next to Uncle Tito, enjoying a plate of fresh fruit. “I suppose this is the same reason why Signor Occhipinti can seduce aviolinoas he does. Perhaps you will honor me with your dance tonight, while he plays?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Rosaria rushed up, slapping me on my behind. “Get dressed! You will miss your own party.” She fixed Enzo with a stare. “Cugino,are you keeping my good sister captive?”
“Of course not,” he said with all of the charm in the world. “I was merely enjoying her company.”
Rosaria made a noise in her throat that made it clear she seriously doubted this statement.
“Would you like me to get started on the meat?” Rocco said, coming to stand between Rosaria and me, placing a hand on each of our necks. The gesture was not only for endearment. It was possessive.
There was something about Enzo that I didn’t trust, and Rocco’s behavior only enforced the feeling, but on the other hand… He couldn’t make up his mind. He truly wanted to see me dance first. If I did, and he thought that I was worth the trouble? Then what? Would he be another madman to add to our list? Would he side with Ettore?
There were men who still felt Ettore should have been listened to and didn’t agree with the decision Marzio had made before his death. He had given Brando the freedom to make his own choice about ‘joining’ the business side of thefamigliaand setting me loose—the golden-legged, dancing girl. Those same men didn’t agree with the means Ettore took. However, ruthless was ruthless, and this was the reality we lived in.
Some of the men blamed Brando for everything—if he wouldn’t have caused such fuss in the first place!—while others followed him blindly and with complete loyalty.
I sighed and then told Rocco to go ahead, since I didn’t want dinner to be late. Guests were starting to work up an appetite for the main courses. I headed off to change for the party, excusing myself from the conversation. Even with the apron, I had somehow managed to collect small dots of dough on the hem of my dress, and Charles had thrown up on my shoulder after I had forgotten to put a cloth down after he had eaten.
Before I made it too far, Rocco took me by the arm. “Have you spoken to him,bella?”
I stared up at him, lost.His eyes were entirely too hypnotizing, a moss green against the olive tint of his sun-kissed skin.Why did they all have to be so impossibly beautiful?I blamed this for the next words that came from my mouth, which were completely unwarranted and out of place. “Do you look like Luca, Rocco?”
“He—what?”
