* * *
Outside of the villa,the moon seemed to claim even more of the sky.
Scarlett gazed out of the window of the chauffeured, armored car, one of an entourage all going toward the same event, her eyes bright against the light. Her arm stretched to where I sat, hand on my thigh. Her fingernails tapped, tapped, tapped.
“What are you thinking?”she asked in Italian.
It’s all we mostly spoke, unless we spoke English amongst ourselves, or she spoke to the children in the many languages that she knew.
“Tell me how you know that Iamthinking.”
She’d been watching the moon, I’d been watching her, yet she knew that I was.
Her gaze found mine, her eyes still bright with the natural light of the darkness. “I am your wife. I know these things.”
I grinned, taking her hand, squeezing.“What I’m thinking is not important. It’s what my eyes see. You look perfect tonight, my wife.”
The dress seemed made for her, and it probably was. The entire thing caught the night and shimmered against it. Like a million facets from a crushed diamond.
A flush came to her cheeks, her smile making my heart do funny things. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for this.”She lifted her right hand.
For the first time in years, she’d taken off the band I’d given her, claiming both of her hands, and swapped it out for a ring with a diamond in the shape of a rose. It was wide enough to take up two of her fingers. It was only for the event, and as soon as we arrived back home, I’d put the band back on.
Lifting her left hand, I kissed her wedding band.
“You love to give me jewelry.” She smiled even wider.
“I do. The gift of jewelry means one thing. Possession. It’s a physical representation of—she’s mine. That’s why I won’t allow Mia to accept jewelry from a man.”
“Never is a bold statement,” she said with a hint of pity. “After all, you gave me jewelry.”
“Esattamente.”For a moment, the sight of the rose ring made my heart hurt. She never took off her wedding rings, right hand included, and her right ring finger was covered by the huge diamond rose.
Her hand didn’t seem complete without it. Both hands were mine. The feeling of regret slipped in, but I killed it—still, I had no idea why. It had been creeping in more than I was used to lately. I could deal with change when it came to my wife, ifwestayed the same, but life was feeling different. Like it was passing us by too fast, and the changes were shaping us into people we had never wanted to be.
I cleared my throat, switching to English.“I was marking my territory. That’s why Mia will never accept jewelry from a man.”
“Your wife is someone’s daughter. Remember that.”
“I’m not likely to forget, but no matter how much of a daughter you are, you’ve always been mine. Born for me.”
“No doubt,” she said, touching my face, her fingers a cool burn. “But you’ll have to remember that one day, ah?”
“Change the subject, Scarlett.” I shrugged, my suit feeling too tight in the shoulders suddenly.
“All right,” she said, her voice soft. “What’s on your mind tonight, Fausti?”
“You. Me.”
“And?
“Nemours.”
The rat had escaped again. Each time we got close, he’d chew his arm off and disappear. The French opposition never forgave us for blowing up their yacht. Someone was hiding him, and not in the sewers but in their palaces. He only came close when he felt he was secure enough to get away.
“It’ll come to an end one day, Brando.” She sighed and entwined her arm with mine, resting her head on my shoulder. I knew she didn’t want to talk about it, so I let it go. Her hand interlaced with mine, and she brought it to her mouth, kissing my wedding ring.
“Il mio territorio,” she whispered.My territory.
