‘Yes. She . . . sorry, what’s your name? How rude of me.’
‘Sarah.’
‘Piacere.’ He leaned forward and gave her double-cheek kisses. ‘Amore, Sarah came into the store the other day and I helped her find a few things. She bought the Bianchi.’
‘Incredible. This is Sarah and Matthew D’Adamo. Sarah is my new tutoring student. They have just moved into Convento delle Viole. And this is my fiancé, Riccardo.’
His eyes widened, first with delight, then terror. ‘Mamma mia. It’s a disaster, that place.’
Matthew had accepted the embrace that Riccardo offered him, and said, ‘You haven’t seen it from the inside. I guarantee you, it’s beyond a disaster.’
Sarah watched on as Riccardo, Margherita and Matthew chatted with the air of a friendship decades-old. Jovial and relaxed, she found immediate joy in the thought of the couples becoming friends and spending time together.
‘What are you both doing today for lunch? Any plans?’ Sarah asked, hopeful.
‘Nothing,’ they both responded.
Sarah clapped her hands. ‘Great. You’re our guests. Nothing too fancy. Just lunch and time to get to know each other.’
‘Sounds great, hun.’ Matthew, impressed by how easily and naturally Sarah managed to connect with people, also latched onto the idea and drew her closer. ‘Does noon work for you both?’
‘Perfetto!’ Margherita smiled, her cropped hair dancing gently on the passing breeze.
After a few minutes of chitchat, the couples parted ways, with Margherita and Riccardo off to run a few errands. This left Sarah and Matthew to meet a few of the other members of the congregation.
High above the crowd, looking on from an open window at the rear of themunicipio, stood Saverio with a notepad in hand. He had watched the exchange between Sarah, Matthew, Margherita and Riccardo, and his jaw clenched tightly behind his flared nostrils. Making a few notes, he watched as Matthew caringly caressed Sarah’s lower-back, leading the way from the gathering, and they soon disappeared from view around the corner.
Saverio turned and strode the entire length of his office, walking towards the opposite window which opened onto the main piazza. Just in time, he caught Sarah and Matthew pass by, making their way to the supermarket.Don’t get too comfortable, he thought.You won’t be staying long.
tredici
Sarah gasped, setting her wineglass down on the makeshift dining table.
Riccardo shook his head and Margherita reached out to reassuringly stroke his hand. ‘Yes. Saverio is my brother.’
Matthew and Sarah were gobsmacked. ‘But you’re so lovely and pleasant, and he’s . . .’
‘A maniacal bastard?’ Margherita finished Sarah’s sentence. ‘He’s not to be trusted. At all.Capito? No matter the circumstances.’
‘My brother is a power-hungry dictator. He will stop at nothing to bring down those who cross his path. Stay right away from him.’
‘What kind of relationship do you have with him, then?’ Matthew asked.
‘One of . . . mutual tolerance. We leave each other alone.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t engage with Saverio. He doesn’t engage with me.’
‘Was it always like that?’ Sarah asked.
‘My brother is much older than me. Fifteen years. We have the same father, but different mothers. Saverio’s mother died suddenly when he was very young. He was never the same after that. Didn’t take well to challenge and change. It was very traumatic for him. Eventually, our father remarried – to my mother, of course – and started a new branch of his family. As we grew older, his resentment for me also grew. I had a mother, he did not. He despised our father for moving past grief to find love again. He is fixed in a state of self-preservation and bravado. We have only one thing in common, our name: Manfredi.’
Sarah sat across from Riccardo and studied his face. She could find little evidence of likeness between the two, apart from the deep brown, almost black eyes. Riccardo’s persona was softer, kinder and his mannerisms were tender and meek. She noted how he paid particular physical attention to Margherita; a caress of her forearm as they dined, a hold on her waist as they talked. He was nothing short of a sweetheart.
‘That’s all they share. Just the name. Though Saverio brings it into disrepute.’ Margherita’s frustration became evident as she swiftly spliced her roast potato in half with the edge of her fork. ‘And their father, Gennaro, is asanto.’
‘But enough about me and my problematic family. Tell us more about you.’ Eyes wide with genuine curiosity, he looked expectantly at Matthew and Sarah.
This was the moment they had prepared for. They had always known people would ask for their backstory.
With confidence and a smile, Sarah started. ‘Well, we actually met at a corporate event I worked on. That’s my job. I style and do management for high-profile events: A-lister weddings, huge multimillion-dollar product launches, that sort of thing. Anyway, this guy,’ she teased, shoving Matthew in the arm, ‘was poking around the backstage area – where he wasn’t meant to be, mind you – and I intercepted him. He asked me for directions to the bathroom, we got to talking and then, eventually, I asked him out.’
