“He doesn’t look so vain right now,” I pointed out. “All of his attention is on the beautiful doctor.” I wasn’t sure why I was attempting to redirect Massimo’s attention, but it came natural to me to do so.
There was something I liked about Alessandra Ponte, and it wasn’t just the fact that she gave me a natural remedy for heartburn. She also told me this meant the baby was going to have a lot of hair. I wasn’t sure if the baby had a lot of anything, at that moment, but…we would see.
He said something low, something in Italian, in a dialect I couldn’t understand. He went to walk off but I stopped him by putting a hand to his arm. He looked down at it, like it was an alien force stopping him, before his stare moved up my arm and to my eyes. His eyes went to the window above us, where Rocco was standing in the window, looking down at us. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, and his eyes were hard.
I removed my hand, because again, we didn’t need more trouble.
“You decided I’d talk to Chloe in a few months?” I asked.
He nodded. “This way, perhaps, she will be more open to speaking to you about me and our son, if she remembers how it felt to be a mother to Michelangelo.”
“All right.” I nodded and just came out and asked the question that had been weighing on my heart. “If she says no, will you hate me for not being able to convince her?”
He stared into the distance so long, I almost thought he forgot I’d asked him an important question. Finally, he shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Perhaps before.” He looked me in the eyes. “Not now. Not after I have witnessed your character and know you will do as I ask, not for the return, but because you have a good side to your heart. A warm heart.”
“Good,” I breathed out.
He gave me his full attention then. “Do you understand why my brothers and I have accepted you into our lives?”
“Because I love your dad?”
“Love is enough when it is between a man and a woman in our family, but it does not always guarantee acceptance,SignoraFausti.”
I hated when he called me that. I’d requested he call me Ari, or Aria, but he refused, and without permission, my body flinched. I finally thought we were getting somewhere, but…he left me ten paces in the dust again.
“We accept you because you have accepted the sons of a woman who was so vile, she would have bled us out as if we were pigs if we had not done as she ordered us to. We have accepted her blood as we have accepted our father’s blood, but it is not always pleasant to carry around blood that hates love. She hated it. What it stood for. Weakness. This is why I have not erased the romance in my veins. Perhaps to spite her.”
“That’s why you’ve accepted me.”
He shrugged. “It does not truly matter the reasons. Just know we have.”
He headed in the direction of the doctor and the narcissist, purpose behind his steps. Underneath his breath, he was singing an odd combination of the song I’d sang and “She’s Always a Woman.”
My eyes found my husband in the window of his office, buttery light behind him, and when our eyes met, they stayed frozen. He took another drink out of his crystal glass, and next to him, Luca appeared. The meeting would begin soon, but Rocco had told me they had other business to discuss before Francesco and his line arrived.
Maybe they had already. Thandie was moving closer to me, her husband was moving closer to her, and there was a different feeling in the air—tense. I looked at her, and she nodded at me, not adding anything else to the conversation. When I looked up at the window again, Rocco was still staring down atme. He nodded to me, then nodded to Thandie, and then he disappeared.
I sighed and clasped the cross around my neck. I wasn’t sure where this meeting was going, but I hoped whatever itch Francesco had on the island had been scratched. I had a feeling, though, that the letters my great-aunt left behind were going to make him itchy again. Or he already was, since it seemed like the men in this family were always prepared for what was to come. Who knew, maybe they followed the American judicial system. All evidence had to be handed over before the court date.
In the distance, I heard Giovanni’s voice. Thandie was even closer to me, and she was staring at her husband, her hand hovering around her weapon tucked inside her coat. I’d never seen her that way before, so stone cold and focused.
“Do you understand what they’re saying?” she whispered to me, watching as Francesco attempted to bypass Giovanni and his men. Thandie was fluent in Italian, and a few other languages, but Italian could be difficult because of the number of dialects.
“No,” I said. “I don’t understand the dialect.”
She nodded. “Same.” Her eyes narrowed even further on Francesco.
His eyes were narrowed on me.
I narrowed back.
He smiled.
Then my husband showed up.
He stood in front of Francesco. A man who must’ve been Francesco’s father touched Francesco on the shoulder, and the men walked in another direction. Rocco watched them walk away, his shoulders stiff, and once they disappeared, he turned toward me.
I gave him a small wave. I didn’t expect it, but he waved back, a slight grin on his face. I blew him a kiss, and he snatched it out of the air, tucking it inside of his suit coat.
