She’d said it. Used the one term that made Lucia want to retreat into herself. She closed her eyes in defeat and felt the chair melt into the floorboards beneath her.
Alex knocked again, but still no one answered.
Noting how theChiusosign hadn’t been displayed, he opened the door as respectfully as possible and stepped inside the lobby. He could hear Foscari upstairs in Lucia’s apartment, then muffled voices.
Luciawashome.
‘Lucia?’ he called, ascending the stairs, but even Alex could tell that his voice had been muffled by Foscari’s yapping.
It wasn’t until he reached the second floor that he was able to discern the voices.
‘And we are thinking just your eyes on the cover. A really big close-up. Tight. Intimate. That iconic green will just fly off the shelves.’
‘My eyes?’
Alex felt the skin down his spine tighten with prickles.
‘Yes! They have always been the drawcard. Those famous lagoon-green eyes, crying in the rain. Lots of shadows. Really melancholic.’
‘Right . . . and . . . the title of the book?’
‘There can only be one,no?L’Orfana.’
Alex’s stomach lurched.
What followed was a long pause, a void of blank, empty nothingness. Foscari settled, the voices fell silent, and Alex could almost hear his heart beating.
Then came Lucia’s voice, containing the trembling vibrato of tears, and it tore him apart.
‘And . . . you could guarantee me that sum? All of it? In writing this week?’
‘Lucia Trevisan, you have yourself a deal.’
And with that, Alex was gone.
The days that followed were a mash of frenzied classes, quick conversations on the staircase, nights editing for theVenezia, Ovunque!project, and the bureaucratic paper trail hunt in preparation for Lucia’s meeting with Edoardo scheduled in twelve days – the day before the deadline closure.
Lucia had received an updated publishing agreement from La Copertina, and was waiting on Mariella, Francesco and Stefano to join her for dinner after Friday’saperitivoparty before she signed it. When they all trooped up to her apartment that evening, she was ready.
With sad glossy eyes, they watched on, and the sound of Lucia’s pen pulling across the contract broke all four hearts.
‘We tried,’ she said. ‘It had to be this way. Our project has done what it needed to do. It kept our spirits high, our resolve strong, and ithasearned some terrific money.’ She threw her weight back into the cushion behind her on her bed, and Francesco and Stefano joined her there.
‘But not enough to save you from that book deal,’ Francesco mumbled.
Lucia reached across and caressed his hand. ‘Now that the project is set up we can slowly add to it and continue to build our inventory. And, more importantly, it will help contribute to the business loan repayments.’
Mariella wiped away a tear. ‘Mi dispiace, Lucia. This isnothow it was meant to be.’
Lucia joined her on the window seat. ‘But we have enough to secure the school now.’
‘But you shouldn’t have to sell your story for the privilege.’
Lucia squeezed Mariella tightly from the side. ‘I’ve survived all this. What more could the universe possibly throw at me now?’
It was then that Francesco and Stefano shared a loaded look.
‘What’s going on?’ Mariella asked, pointing to the pair.
