Mac took a drink of his whiskey. “The wife sick of you already?” He spoke fluent Italian and Sicilian, but Mac had lived in New York most of his life, and he had a slight accent, not to mention a raspy voice. A war in New York had almost left him for dead, hence the scar around his neck.
“Basking in the new Fausti glow,” I said, nodding to my personal wait staff. The man had a drink in my hand before I could blink again.
Mac looked between us, and his brow furrowed. “The Fausti glow, ah?”
“You know the one.”
He said nothing as he drank his whiskey straight. And when a woman I had the pleasure of spending a couple of nights with, Angela, walked up with tears in her eyes, Mac mumbled,“the one she has no chance to bask in now,”and left us alone.
The woman was not wearing a glow, but a cloud of blue.
“Ro-cc-oo,” she screeched, then started to wail. “I can-not b-b-believe you are m-m-married to that she-d-d-devil!”
Everyone in close proximity turned to stare. Rosaria stopped talking and narrowed her eyes, but she did not move to my side. She watched the scene unfold, and when Dario took Angela by the shoulders and steered her away from me, Rosaria turned away, waved her hand, like the scene was nothing, and went back to her conversation. A few minutes later, Rosaria moved to Mac’s side and was attempting to talk to him. Mac was the least verbose man I knew. It was not long before he walked away from my new wife, taking a seat next to his grandfather, keeping his wary eyes on the party.
It looked as if Rosaria did not know what to do with herself once she found herself alone. I watched her back as she watched what was our wedding reception. All the guests dressed in their best gowns and tuxedos. The fine livery. The expensive China and crystal. The ornate gold and cream chairs in Baroque style. Thelong tables filled with food, drink, flowers, and candlelight. The architecturally stunning facade of Villa Medici from its lavish gardens. Lion statues were placed throughout. The view beyond of Rome Eternal burning with the lights of the night.
It was then that I saw Rosaria Caffi for the woman she truly was.
The world was her stage, and if she did not feel she had a part, the curtain would come down. As stunning as her voice was—that true place inside of her—she was an equally brilliant actress: she gave the world whatever face fit into the scene in that moment in time. The woman used her voice to sing her truth, and her face to hide her lies.
Her entire life would be a play on the tragedy of life.
How all beginnings undoubtedly come to an end.
In this, we were the same.
My grandfather stepped next to her, and she turned to him, a blazing smile on her face. She nodded after he said something, and taking her hand, led her to the dance floor. He twirled her around it like an old-fashioned knight in a storybook.
The dance over, my grandfather took her hand and bowed to her. She nodded at something he said.
Nonno’s eyes met mine from across the lawn as he navigated back to the spot with the old men smoking cigars and savoring the taste of expensive drinks. Even though I knew my grandfather well, he could keep his face void of any emotion when he wanted to keep his opinion to himself. He had enjoyed the dance, but there was something troubled about his eyes. Perhaps he did not findSignoraRosaria Caffi as enchanting when she wasn’t singing. I understood this feeling.
Dario danced with her next. Followed by Romeo.
I danced with her sister, Abree, who went on and on about how much she was enjoying spending time with my brother.
“You will be my brother-in-law twice over!” She seemed to relish the idea. “Can you imagine? Both Caffi daughters married to Faustibrothers!”
She did not give me a chance to agree or not before she started to speak again. I gave her hand to Dario as I went for another drink, my eyes still on my new wife. She had broken away from a throng of men asking her to dance to speak to a beautiful woman who she seemed to know well. They leaned in close and, looking at me, turned back to each other and laughed. It was not as if they were laughing at me, but about a secret.
My eyes narrowed as I downed a strong drink. I sighed as I downed another.
This was the beginning of our life together.
Our first moments as husband and wife.
Our first steps into the world as a united front.
A million miles seemed to come between us, and I wondered, downing another drink, if this entire day stood for a sign of times to come.
Chapter 4
The Wedding Night
For the first time all day, my new wife seemed to have a spark in her eyes. Perhaps it was because the wedding was over, and it would only be she and I in the comfort of our own home. My grandfather owned a luxury hotel next to the Spanish Steps. We would take advantage of a suite for the night, and then I would take Rosaria home to Maranello the next day, before we left for our honeymoon in Monaco. We were taking the family yacht there. I had arranged for us to stay at a family friend’s private beach resort for our month-long stay. After that, we were going to the Maldives for another month.
Rosaria was a hot-blooded woman who enjoyed soaking up the sun with nothing else to do but her makeup, hair, and nails.
