A song came on that made Scarlett take notice. One of her favorites. A duet, done half in contemporary style and half in classical—one of the artists was an Italian tenor. Half of the song was sung in English and the other in Italian.
Rosaria started to sing along, and goosebumps broke out on Scarlett’s arms at her voice. She could sing in six different languages. It was the first time I’d seen Rocco look at her with something other than boredom in his expression since they first arrived.
I gave Scarlett my hand, she kicked off her shoes, and we started to dance. The other couples joined in not long after.
Livio and Cerise didn’t dance. She looked on while he gazed out at the sea.
For the sake Livio’s first wife, Santina, and for Cerise, everyone seemed to make the effort to get through to him.
Romeo even gave a speech stressing the importance of living for those we lost—to give their life meaning. Livio kept his face turned, refusing to acknowledge it.
It was bothering Scarlett. Feeling as much as she did, she was absorbing all he was giving. She was still grieving with him.
Ever since she had Mia and Matteo, her maternal instincts had grown, and sometimes I wondered if I’d ever have to put a barrier between how she felt and her actions. She was starting to forgive much too easily, because her overactive empathy always seemed to find the root of the problem, and understanding it made her more understanding.
Kissing me after I’d thanked her for the dance, she went to Livio and held out her hand. It took every ounce of restraint for me to keep seated, while he put his hand in hers, and danced with my wife.
Rocco handed me a glass of whiskey, and we clanked before he took a seat next to me.
“He is in the shadows, watching.” He spoke in Italian, keeping his eyes forward, like we were talking about something else.
I nodded.
“His view seems to please him,” he said, then downed the rest of his whiskey.
“Yeah,”I said, then downed mine too.
This was Luca’s dream—to have all his soldiers under one roof, following his orders, keeping close so he could keep us under his thumb. Our families too.
We said nothing else as people started to move back to their seats. Romeo suggested a game to play, but after Scarlett and Livio’s dance, she offered Cerise a tour of the villa.
Livio went along, his face pale, walking through the place like he was a condemned man. Not one afraid to die, but one who’s afraid others will see the anguish in his eyes as he travels back in time, grieving for chances lost.
It didn’t take long before he moved toward the room he and Santina had stayed in, his heart seeming to pull him in that direction.
Cerise went to open the door, but he put a firm hand to hers, stopping her cold.
“Not this one,” he said. “Not you. Only me.”
Cerise nodded, but her face didn’t hide how awkward she felt. It didn’t seem like she’d given the situation much thought. A shot in the dark getting him here.
“We can get a drink,” Scarlett suggested, “while Livio has a look around.”
The tour was over then as he entered the room alone, shutting the door behind him.
Scarlett and Cerise chatted more while we waited in the kitchen, the music from outside drifting in. Shouts rose every so often when someone made a move in the game—whatever they were playing.
“Your children are beautiful,” Cerise said, touching her stomach. “How many more?”
Scarlett opened her mouth to respond but then closed it on a snap. I didn’t miss the look she gave me. My eyes narrowed in return, but Livio interrupted, putting a hand to Cerise’s back, pushing her forward.
“Wha—”
“We must go now,” he snapped.
“Livio!” Scarlett called.
I set my hand on her shoulder, watching him warily. He was on edge. He stopped, though, keeping his back to us.
