“Stunning?”
His warm gaze fell on my face. “I know when a woman is fishing for more compliments. You are not. You should know this—you are a stunning woman. It was not only your cloak that sent my nephew in your direction.” He tapped his temple. “You are interesting as well. A power more women should recognize and turn into confidence. It only enhances your beauty. This is what my father would say made you irresistible to men like us.”
“What about you?” I smiled. “Are you enjoying my company?”
He returned the smile. “I always enjoy the company of people who have more to talk about than the weather, ah?”
“That I do.” I turned my face forward and stared at the giant.
The two swans seemed to float on top of the water, their reflections shimmering back at them. They were so graceful. It was hard not to think of Scarlett when I looked at them.
“Do you enjoy stories,SignorFausti?” I turned to look at him, and he was studying the profile of my face.
It wasn’t awkward. It felt tepid on my skin. And it wasn’t sexual either, just a man interested in what a woman had to say. I respected him for that, because not many men in his position would have. But this family respected their women, cherished them, and Nazzareno was proof of that too. But they were also possessive over them and had wild tempers when it came to honor and what it meant to them.
“Luca will do.” He patted my hand. “I do.”
I felt I owed this to Edna after all she’d done for me, and I honestly wanted to stay away from the conversation about Nazzareno until I figured out what else to say. I had a feeling Luca was leading me in a direction I didn’t want to go in. By asking me if I thought Nazzareno was too weak to stand against Renato gave me a bit of foreshadowing.
No woman wanted to admit her husband was weak, especially if he wasn’t, but no woman in love wanted to take a foolish chance with his life, either. I wasn’t all that great with the wife thing yet, but the concern I had for my husband came naturally, and I was going with it.
I switched gears when I told him about Edna. I told him how she had been in love with his father for years after that first meeting, and that candle was still burning hot. I thought maybe if Luca would talk to her, or something, maybe he could break the spell some. Maybe she could find herself again and leave the building. She was always there.
He turned toward the water after I was done. He had his thinking face on.
“Edna Giannini.” He nodded. “I remember her. I also remember the day my father went to see her in New York. I was with him. Her newspaper had written an article on theSanguisughe. They call themselves our rivals, but they are nothing but leeches on our skin. We pluck them off easily.” He waved a hand. “However, they are cruel to weaker men, even women. At the time Cataldo was the head of thefamiglia. He sent men to New York, to the newspaper. Someone would pay for the mistake of painting the picture that they were inferior to us. Edna was the woman who had written the article.”
He quieted for a second, thinking back.
“We arrived at the same time. My father was there to thank her. TheSanguisughewere there to kill her. We stopped death at her door. She would not come out from beneath the desk after. My father was the only one who could coax her out. He could get wild cats to eat from his palm. Ettore, my brother, had been with us. We left the room and gave them privacy. My father had protected her after, in exchange for the truth she had written about us. He had appreciated it.”
He sighed. “I do not think she felt safe enough to leave after. Her walls became her shield, and her pen her sword.Occasionally my father would visit with her, and it was the only time she would leave. He would take her out to dinner and dancing. He knew how she felt about him, but after my mamma died, he only took pleasure in a woman’s flesh, nothing more. The love that has the power to save us also has the power to destroy us. As it should be.”
I looked down at my hands. Luca’s story in response to mine made sense.
My heart ached for Edna, just as her heart ached for the security she felt only Marzio could provide. He hadn’t even touched her in a way that a lover does, but he had touched something inside of her that was afraid, and maybe even lonely.
She’d told me she was tomboy-ish, always running after dangerous leads the way men usually did, and always full of ink from the words she wrote about them. Then she told me Marzio Fausti was the only man who had ever made her feel beautiful—on the inside and on the outside.
“Thank you,” I whispered, “for telling me that. Edna means a lot to me.”
“She mentored you.”
“Yes.”
“You were her eyes, her hands, even her feet on the world outside of her building.”
I thought about that for a second. “Yes, when you put it that way…yes. And she instilled in me a passion for writing, for not being afraid of ideas that were not the norm, for being fearless when I wrote them for the public to read.”
We became quiet, and after a few minutes, it felt like my time with him was coming to an end—I didn’t really want it to. For some reason, he felt like a father figure, and it was nice to just sit with him and watch the swans float by. But I had a reason for this meeting.
I cleared my throat. “I’m not as eloquent with my words or my finesse as Scarlett, so, when I say this, it’ll probably come out blunt in comparison.”
He laughed some. “You are telling me you are not skilled in manipulating me in a way only a woman who holds my attention can.”
“I’m definitely not skilled in that.” I laughed some too. “Not even close toSignoraMaggie.”
“She is stunning, is she not?”
