“It doesn’t matter what I do, baby. Or say. He’ll always be suspicious of me, unless I’m dead. That’s the name of the game—trust no threat. He’s threatened by me.”
“What do we do? Or say? To change his mind?”
“Nothing. I don’t have to prove a damn thing to him. I spoke my mind and gave my word. He’ll have to deal or challenge me.”
Thatdisplay oftake it or leave itwas exactly why Lothario felt threatened by him, I thought, but kept quiet. There’s no changing a set man. He played by his rules alone.
“He doesn’t trust Rocco either,” I pointed out.
“None of us. We are Luca’s sons. He wouldn’t. Now that we’re close.” He lifted one shoulder then let it fall. “He’s not Marzio, but he moves with the times. He knows what’s up.”
“That is?”
“Together, we are stronger than Marzio’s sons ever were. Marzio knew it. That’s why he considered leaving the empire to me. He would have, but in the end, he allowed me to make the choice.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip, looking down at the ring again. I knew that, but sometimes the truth shocked me. My husband was not only physically strong, but hard-willed enough to lead this entire family of ruthless men. I looked up in time to see his shoulders fall with whatever burden he carried. “Is that what he wanted to discuss?”
“No,” he said, his tone going from defiance to lethally cold levelness. “Get dressed. Then we’ll talk.”
* * *
Whatever happened in the meeting weighed on Brando’s mind, though he still refused to speak about it until we set out to explore the villa’s grounds.
Brando didn’t expand much on his short comment, “I want to show you something,” and I didn’t ask him to. There were times it was better to go with his flow and give him the time he needed. He was being too thoughtful. Turned inward with whatever burden he carried, not ready to share it with me. Hence our journey around the property. He would tell me, I knew, but first he had some thinking to do.
I held a blanket in my hand. He had our picnic basket that Eunice put together. I had no idea what sort of manna resided in its depths, except for a bottle oflimoncellothat stuck out of the cover. Nothing like getting your wife drunk in the middle of the day to ease into bad news.
I moved my Ray-Bans from my head, shielding my eyes from the sharp glare of the sun. Mick was outside with Peter and Paul. Paul was stark naked and peering at something in the tributary that ran through our yard.
Brando had my free hand tucked in his, jingling them. He stared at the boys thoughtfully for a moment before smiling when Mick snuck up behind Paul and touched his butt cheek with a wriggling lizard he held in his grasp. Paul let out a screech that sent his brother tumbling into the water, splashing and spluttering, head coming up to inspect what had made him fall in in the first place.
Mick fell to the ground, wheezing, rocking back and forth with laughter. When the two boys figured out that their father had been the culprit, they both tackled him and a mud-smearing wrestling match ensued.
“That was sneaky,” I said, smiling, watching boys be beautiful boys.
“At least it wasn’t a crab,” Brando said, tugging at my hand, directing us toward the lemon groves.
“It must be strange to have a penis,” I said. “It seems kind of wild. Uncontrollable. Always just hanging there. I don’t think I’d like to have one.”
Brando stopped abruptly. Our connection stretched before I realized he wasn’t moving. He stood in a hot beam of sunlight, a shimmering mahogany carving. His eyes were covered in a matching pair of Ray-Bans. “Baby,” he said, almost exasperated, “I’mglad that you don’t have one either. And for the record, it seems strange to me not to have one and a pair of balls to match. That’s why we have the parts we do. So they’ll fit.”
He started moving us again, our feet alternating between shaded, soft tufts of grass and areas that were in direct sunlight, dried to hay by the insistent fire of the sun. “Your mind,” he said, fumbling some for the right words. “You just came up with that.”
“Well, yes,” I said, scooting closer to him when Jet came rushing past my legs, a black hairy blur that was on the hunt for prey and freedom from the confines of the villa. When she felt claustrophobic, she either hid underneath our dresser in our bedroom, or ran for her life—especially when she saw Mary coming with pink bows. “It just seems like it would be strange to have a body part that you sometimes have no control over. Every morning you wake up—” I made a motion to the front of his pants. “You are powerless over it. That would be like someone having a jerky leg, kicking whenever it wants. No control whatsoever.”
He let out a huge laugh at this. I knew he was imagining it in his head—his leg jutting out to kick someone at its own will, probably in the ass.
“But,” I sighed. “I do love your parts.”
“Tell me how much.” He cocked up a thick eyebrow.
“You couldn’t understand how much.” I hoped the redness in my cheeks was mistaken for being overheated. A moment later, his deceitful trickery made it through the thick fog in my mind. “You just wanted to hear me say it!”
“Already did. Last night. You went on and on about it. This morning too.”
My mouth hung open. I snapped it closed. “Why ask again?”
“Ah,” both eyebrows lifted, a wicked move on him. “Because I can.”
