The entire scene seemed like a page taken from a book of fairytales, especially when Paolo Occhipinti stood after dinner, shushing the crowd with his very presence. He hadn’t spoken a word, nor did he need to. The anticipation he carried with him was as tranquil as a soft breeze. The allure of whatever he kept bottled in his case seemed to exist, a living thing.
For such an unassuming man, the violin at his neck transformed him. If the Fausti men hadseduzionerunning through their veins, its sole purpose to charm women, Paolo Occhipinti had it for hisviolino. The instrument was his partner. Depending on what he did to her, she either wept or rejoiced at his touch.
I blinked and glanced at Brando. I hadn’t even realized that he had taken my hand, set me on his lap, and removed the sandals from my feet.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Dance with me, Ballerina Girl,” he whispered back.
As Paolo played an instrumental version of “Beauty and the Beast,” I risked a peek at Enzo. He was staring at Paolo—everyone was. Even the children were at his feet, looking up with the fairy lights twinkling in their eyes, eating gelato while he made the strings tremble.
Brando stood and set me down gently, tucking his finger underneath my chin. He raised it so that I was forced to look him in the eye. In the darkness of his eyes, my fairness was never so apparent, but my light was no match for the intensity of his stare.My eyes lowered in response. “This is our castle,” Brando said, coming closer to my lips, his warm breath washing over me. “Enzo runs nothing here. Dance with me,mia moglie. I’m not asking.”
I nodded, though he made it clear that I didn’t have a choice. Not that he had to take the decision away from me. I wanted to dance with him. How could I not? Enzo’s earlier request had unnerved me though.
Despite the unease, I danced with my husband underneath a heaven filled with stars, lemon and roses perfuming the air, perhaps a hint of Chianti, those ghosts of grapes long past, an undertone to their stronger counterparts, the air thick with love and heat, and this magical violinist serenading us with the song of his heart.
I didn’t have an ounce of attention to spare for Enzo, or anyone else; all I could concentrate on was my husband and the dance. I laughed into his shoulder when he picked me up and twirled me around, kissing my ear and whispering, “questa notte si aggiunge ai nostri bellissimi anni.”This night adds to our beautiful years.
“We’ll write about in our book,” I whispered back, kissing his nose.
To my surprise, after our dance was over, the crowd gave us a quiet round of applause. Even Paolo Occhipinti, who seemed to be miles away from any of us, joined in.
To return the favor, Brando and I applauded him, the crowd following our lead. The magical violinist shook his head and quieted us again by beginning another song. This time, couples surrounded us, moving in time to the new masterpiece being created byel maestro’sfingers.
The night wore on, and finally Paolo bid us goodnight with a lovely bow before he kissed my hand. “You have made a dream of mine come true this evening,Magia. To see you move in time to my music … ah, well.” He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Grazie.”
Surprising the man, I hugged him, hard. Tears slipped down my cheeks and onto his shoulder.
“Ah, now,Magia. Do not shed a tear. What we have created here will live on. That is the beauty of art. It becomes a part of who we are. If we believe, it will live for eternity. Now—” he pulled away, pinching my chin “—giving so much of myself has tired me. You understand this,sì?Sì.Sì. No doubt you would. Where are my accommodations again?”
Lothario, not wishing to drive or discuss business on such a gorgeous night, decided that thefamigliashould stay the night. There was an old stone building on the property that was not in use. Brando had taken it as his own project and converted it into rooms, along with two bathrooms, in case we ever ran out of room in the villa. We had. Mitch was willing to give up his room to take one of the apartments, but Paolo said he would rather have the privacy. “Do not let my departure stop you,” he said as he prepared to leave for his room, one of the men walking with him. “I have filled the air. Take advantage,miei amici!”
We took advantage. The air seemed even thicker with whatever he had given to it. Perhaps he had entranced it, and we all floated through like helium filled balloons, letting the night take us where it would.
Some bright mind had the idea to press play on the stereo system. If the music selection was any indication, it was Mitch. He loved the ’60s and ’70s. I doubted there was anyone sitting anymore—even those without partners found one. Although the older Italians were not familiar with some of the music, once they got going, there was no stopping them. I smiled when my father interrupted a dance between my mother and Niccolo, who was doing a fine job at dirty dancing. Even Charlotte and Travis joined in; it was sad that it was the first time I remembered seeing her smilenotout of malice.
Enzo took me from Romeo, who was also skilled at dirty dancing, and I stilled.
“I just want to dance. I will not harm you.”
“No,” I said, finding Brando, who danced with Maggie Beautiful. “I know you won’t.”
Enzo followed the line of my sight. Brando nodded at the both of us. I relaxed then, hoping this was my chance. Perhaps that was the reason Brando allowed the dance to go on.
“See?” I said, after a minute or two. “I’m human.”
“You are,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “There is also something about you that is not. As Paolo said earlier,what fools we mortals be! And you are no fool.”
Oh hell.He was quoting Shakespeare, and hewas still on the fence. I wanted to push him over to our side of the grass—it was greener. Before I could respond, Brando took me from Enzo and moved me into him so close.
“Enough of all these other men. You’re mine.” Then he kissed me.
Our lips lingered until he pulled away, and when I opened my eyes, I found him staring at me. “What it is,mio angelo?” I said softly.
He shrugged in that way of his that let me know whatever he felt, he hoped I’d catch on to it and react without him having to voice it. This was Brando Fausti not being able to convey his wishes in words. They felt too personal even tohim.
I put a hand to each side of his chest, feeling him out. I looked down, keeping my attention away from him until the tension grew thick, and then brought my eyes up slowly to meet his.
