Oh.
“What about her?” I asked.
“Did you see? She danced with me at your wedding.”
“Oh. That’s really nice.”
He nodded. “She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” His eyes lowered some, like her name and the thought of her sent him off to dream-land.
This time, I had to control my features. He was pouring his heart out to me, and his eyes were soft, but the rest of his face was still scrunched up a bit. It was actually…cute. Maybehewas. It was just that everyone had dubbed him Oscar the Grouch because he looked like his father. He did, but I found Oscar wasn’t as Oscar-y as his father, Nino.
“I’m sure Noemi would think that’s very sweet.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do. You just paid her a great compliment, Oscar.”
His eyebrows lifted, giving him an almost comical look. “I find that she has not so good taste in men. I am different. I am not her type. I see this with my own—” He pointed toward his eyes.
I started walking again, and so did he.
“What are you going to do about your…erm, crush?” I asked.
“Do you think she will agree to a date? I will ask her father, first, of course.”
“I’d love to say I know, but I really don’t. But that’s part of the excitement, right? Not knowing what she’ll say, but hoping she’ll say yes?”
He said something in Italian, but I didn’t understand, and he didn’t translate. I was thinking it was probably along the lines of…No, woman, that’s not part of the excitement. She might turn me down!And then him telling me toscram!I laughed a little, and he smiled at me. His teeth were perfect and straight and so white against his dark skin.
If he was going to say anything else to me, he didn’t. Armando came running toward us, taking my other side. He shot Oscar a glare, and I was sure Oscar was probably going to get into trouble for something—maybe walking me instead of driving me? I could see men dotted all over the hillside. Just walking around or doing something in our groves. As we came to thecastello, only a thin sliver of day left, Placido met us.
Armando ordered Oscar to stay with me at the hen house while he and Placido took positions further out. Not that I minded Oscar’s company, but it was nice to be—almost—alone for a few minutes. I loved collecting the eggs from the hens. Their house was made of the same stone and stucco ours was, and they seemed to be happy. Yeah, they were somewhat dirty, in general, and could be harpy sometimes, but overall, they were going to have a wonderful life here.
That made me breathe a little easier.
I told Oscar he could wait outside for me. Grabbing a wicker basket from the hook outside of the house, I stepped inside with all my furry ladies. Some of them squawked a little, flutteringtheir wings, but mostly they squinted at me and went back to whatever they were doing.
My fire had tamed a little since the walk, but a leftover flame seemed to be burning me inside. I wasn’t sure how to put it out, or if I really wanted to. Maybe I just had to get used to it. It felt like it was right underneath my breastbone, even though, when it rushed through me, I got hot all over. Especially in the face.
Common sense told me that part of it was from the way Régine had treated me, and how I hadn’t dealt with it yet, but I’d never been so short-fused before. I really could have hurt Rosaria without blinking an eye at the violence it took to do it.
“It’s okay,” I cooed at the hen as I collected her eggs. “I’m not going to hurt you, only mean people.”
Her beady eyes took me in, and I could have sworn she was thinking…Not me, but my eggs! You’re about to scramble them for dinner, you psycho!
I sighed, moving on to the next hen, who I hoped wouldn’t be as judgmental. I laughed quietly at the thoughts in my head, and then I wondered if I needed serious mental help. I didn’t have time to stress about it too much, though. A commotion was happening at the back of the hen house. One of the hens seemed to be fluttering her wings, going after something, trying to peck it, or use her claws to get it, and she was upsetting the other hens.
Or something was.
I turned my head a fraction, about to ask Oscar to check it out with me, but another man stood in the doorway, blocking most of the light. It broke around him and made me squint. A rush of panic ran straight through me, and it seemed to affect my feet, because one got caught on the other, and I started to fall.
He grabbed me before I hit the floor, but I was still close to it.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
It was Marzio, Rocco and Rosaria’s third son.
He had me by the arm, and I was almost dangling in his grasp as the hens all clucked and panicked around us. Feathers were flying in all directions. One landed on Marzio’s head, and it made him look like a demented animal. His eyes were narrowed on me, but his lips were set in a sarcastic smirk. Just like his mom’s. I bet he laughed like her too.
