I hated to admit it, even to myself, but it was true. Like he’d told me, I’d become his home, and he’d become mine. I hated to admit it because, like Big had said about making vows in front of people who knew us, it made me vulnerable. I was easing into it, had been for some time, but that didn’t mean it was always easy.
A throat cleared before a man tapped Big on the shoulder. We both stood straighter, but Big didn’t release my hand, not until he realized who it was. They shook and then hugged, and then Big introduced me to another driver on the team. Luigi Galli. He was older, with salt and pepper curly hair. He was pleasant, and after a few minutes of conversation, he told Big they were waiting on him for a picture.
Big held my hand as he led me through all the guests. We walked up an ornate staircase and followed Luigi to a room set up for photographs. I wasn’t sure why, but I was thinking it was for promotional reasons. Big was doing this event for Rocco, and in return, Rocco was going to help Big promote his new investment: Casino Portofino’s gin.
At the edge of the doorway, I dug my feet in. “I have to go to the bathroom. Bad.” I purposely avoided any trays with food and drink on purpose. This dress was tight, and it showed every bulge. I didn’t want to look bloated. But I’d drank right before I put the dress on, hours ago, and I had togo. Big looked at the men waiting in the room and then at me.
I smiled. “I can go to the bathroom alone. I’m a big girl.”
He didn’t look so sure. He checked down the hallway before he sighed. The photographer came over with his assistant and told Big in a broken accent that his assistant was about to take a break. If I needed directions to any place in the villa, she would show me.
“The bathroom,” Big said. He looked at me. “Then right back here.”
“Got it.” I nodded.
He narrowed his eyes at me and I grinned. I wasn’t going to explore. I wasn’t the type of person to go looking in places where trouble could be found. I’d always had enough of my own. But I thought it had more to do with the Caffi sisters. I hadn’t seen either one of them, but I figured since Rocco was still romancing a woman who wasn’t his wife, maybe neither of them were at the party—or event. It was hard to call it a party after being in the middle of it. A party brought to mind a plastic table covering, cheap decorations, and a homemade cake. This…this was an event, even if only for the backdrop.
I thanked the photographer’s assistant as I rushed inside the bathroom, shutting and locking the door as I hustled to get the dress up in time. I moaned as I emptied my bladder, then washed my hands and fixed my hair a bit before I exited a lighter, and more comfortable, woman.
The photographer’s assistant was waiting for me when I walked out.
“Oh!” I gasped a little, surprised. “You didn’t have to wait.”
“This is a big place,” she said, and I couldn’t automatically place her accent. “I will show you back.”
We made pleasant small talk as I followed close behind her. She was nice, and it was nice to have someone to chat with about the Italian mansion. Georgia, it seemed, was still keeping busy with Rocco Fausti. Lili, the assistant, told me she was from France, and when I asked her how she ended up in Italy, she put a hand to her ear. She couldn’t hear me. I went to step around her, so we could hear each other better, when a body rammed into mine. The knock almost sent me back a few paces, but two hands caught me by the arms.
“What the—”
The man apologized to me in Italian.
I didn’t speak the language fluently, but I could recognize those words. I opened my mouth to say,I wasn’t sure if it was you or me who was at fault, and if it was me, I apologize, but the look in his eyes stopped me. It was like he had recognized me—from where? I had no clue—and he was searching my eyes to see if I recognized him too.
I had no clue who he was. But because he was staring at me the way he was, all I did was nod at his apology, not wanting to say anything and make this more awkward.
“Amaryllis?” he barely got out.
Okay, so hedidthink I was someone else. That was sort of a relief.
“No,” I said. “I’m not Amaryllis. My name is Leonora Bigatti. I’m—”
“My wife.” Big seemed to come out of nowhere and set his hand on my back.
The man’s eyes immediately hardened when they landed on Big. I looked between them, but then looked away because the tension was so thick. It was awkward. No one was saying anything. Even Lili seemed like she couldn’t wait to run back to the room we’d found her in.
A few seconds after, she cleared her throat and said she had to get back. The two men eased back some, but it was only a formality. Whatever it was between them hadn’t moved an inch. Then the man nodded at me and cut a line through the guests.
“Who was that?” I barely got out when he had disappeared.
“He doesn’t matter.”
That was an odd answer. “You apparently know him.”
“He’s a racer.”
“Ahh,” I breathed out. “It didn’t seem very sportsmanlike between you two. Who’s Amaryllis? Do you know?”
“Of course he does,” an accented voice said from behind us.
