Having children of my own.
Yawning, my eyes blinked and then fluttered, and I seemed to drift without realizing that I had.
Brando calling my name pulled me above the surface.
“Wa?” I said.
“—kill him.”
That was all I caught.
“Who?”
“Luca. He might kill Lothario.”
I couldn’t respond. Not right away.
My mouth felt dry, and I licked my lips. “Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words. He hasn’t said much lately. The men around the table talk more than he does. He allows them to—” he made a move with his hands that reminded me of a duck beak moving “—but it’s in his eyes. He’s had enough of the game. He gave Lothario plenty enough time to forfeit the crown. Now that he’s seen how Lothario plays dirty, he’s going to knock the legs right out from underneath him.”
“In Venice?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“If he hasn’t announced his plans—I mean, how do you know?”
“It’s what I’d do.”
“Oh. You’d kill—”
“Depends,” he said. “If I had the same aspirations as Luca, then yeah. Or I’d wound him so that he couldn’t.”
Reaching out, I clasped his hand, tight. He squeezed back, though not as hard.
“Brando?”
“Yeah?”
“My heart is in your hands. Don’t break it by getting too close to this war.”
“I’ll do what I have to do to see my family safe.” Then he kissed my palm.
* * *
Sometime in the night, he made love to me again.
This time it was slow and passionate, words rolling off his tongue in Italian:Even when it's over, it's never over with you; you linger in my flesh, blood, and bone.
I fell asleep in his arms after, waking later with Mia between us, humming to herself, fiddling with my hair—since it probably resembled a wild nest to her—while Brando settled Matteo to feed him.
I could tell by the light it had been long enough, and I could feed him myself.
“Give him here,” I said, reaching out to take him.
He kicked his legs, waving his arms, about to fuss. He rarely cried—except when it came to food. I laughed at his dramatics, blowing kisses on his cheeks. He had reached the stage where his eyes grew wide, a bit googly, though they were the exact shape as his father’s.
I smiled at him, and he smiled back.
