Lucia is a little slower to warm up to. A successful chef, she holds herself with confidence but she hasn't got that ability to make you instantly believe she cares about you. She's friendly, but perhaps a touch self-centered. I can't imagine how she and Lorenzo cope with each other's egos.
"Still haven't decorated, then," Lorenzo says.
In the short time it took to fly home on the night they stormed St. Petersburg to bring me back, I came to realize he's a little like me, choosing smart remarks to try to alleviate tension.
He also watches Gabriele the way I do, trying to gauge his mood. His humor is at its most biting when he thinks his older brother needs distraction. I wonder if Gabriele realizes Lorenzo manages him too. I doubt it.
"Katya's going to take care of that," Gabriele says, crossing the room to sit on the armchair.
I look around for a seat. He pats his knee. I go and sit on it. He wraps his arm around me and I lean back against him, pleased that he's willing to show affection in front of hisbrothers. Lorenzo catches my eye and gives me the smallest nod, as if he's been waiting for exactly this and is glad to see it.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," Violetta says.
"Thank you." I look around at all of them. "Today is for remembering Santo. He deserves that. But it's not only about sadness. He wouldn't have wanted that."
Gabriele's arm tightens around me. Silence falls. There's an awkwardness between the brothers that will take some time to get over.
They haven't talked about Gabriele's reasons for not mourning with them when their mother died. Nor have they discussed what more Damiano and Lorenzo could have done for him in the aftermath of the attack that left him scarred. They let him drift away when they should have stormed in here and dragged him back into their world.
Tonight isn't the night for that particular discussion. But it will come.
"So," I turn to Lorenzo, figuring he's the most likely to want to talk about himself. "Tell me about your vineyard."
We talk for hours about Lorenzo's wine and Lucia's restaurant. Lucia tells me about her signature truffle pasta dish. I tell her I'd love to try it and that seems to break the slight coldness between us. She offers to make it when Gabriele and I get around to visiting Tuscany.
That's something I intend to do soon. I've moved to one of the most beautiful countries on Earth. I intend to explore it. I can just imagine the horror on Gabriele's face when I tell him as much. It was a struggle to get him to the Villa Borghese. I'm not sure how he'll feel about Florence.
Violetta tells me about her work creating social media content for the Volante's various hospitality businesses. She offers to do the same for Gabriele but that sounds like something I could do. I decide to talk to him about it later. The one personwho doesn't talk much is Damiano. He's even less forthcoming about the details of his life than my husband. I guess as the head of the family he needs to keep things close to his chest.
"Do you prefer living in Florence?" I ask Damiano, trying to draw him out.
He shrugs. "It has its good points."
He doesn't share what those are. Violetta rolls her eyes as if she, too, finds it impossible to get a straight answer out of him. I find I like her more with every minute that passes.
While Damiano's walls are impenetrable, Lorenzo and Lucia are only too happy to talk about their baby boy. Not yet a year old, he's apparently already showing signs of inheriting his father's charm. Lorenzo demonstrates this by doing an impression of his son's expression when he wants something he's been told he can't have. Even Damiano almost smiles. Almost.
After a while Gabriele grows tense beneath me. I feel it before I see it, the subtle shift in him. The way he holds his breath and slowly releases it. I get up and hold out my hand.
"Come help me sort out food," I say. "I'm sure everyone's hungry."
There's a murmur of agreement. Gabriele takes my hand and we excuse ourselves and I lead him down the corridor. When we reach the study I open the door.
"I thought we were going to the kitchen," he says.
"We will."
I lead him into the room, close the door and kiss him.
"I thought you wanted food," he says.
"You needed a break."
He kisses me again, his lips falling possessively on mine. He backs me against the door and lifts my skirt.
"We'll have to be quick," I warn.
Gabriele responds by tearing my panties off and dropping them to the floor.
