“Arden has an eye for beauty,” Matteo continued. “He’s helped me with a lot of the finer details.”
“You give me too much credit,” Arden said modestly. “He’d pick three options from hundreds and then let me choose my favorite.”
“Your arguments were always good. Like the Carrara marble you saw throughout the first floor. I’d wanted a snow-white statuary, but Arden convinced me the veined pattern would be better for housekeeping.”
“The imperfections are what make it so interesting,” Arden said.
“Absolutely.” Matteo gazed meaningfully at my lover, who only smiled faintly and turned his attention back to me.
“Michael has a book coming out this summer, the final in his mystery series,” Arden offered on my behalf.
“Arden would ignore me for days whenever one of your books was released. I was the one who told him you were giving a reading. I couldn’t possibly know how life-altering that night would be.” His upper lip curled into an expression that could have been a smile or a sneer. Was he threatened by me? I hoped so.
“I didn’t know until recently I had such a big fan,” I said. Matteo’s confession had produced a faint flush on Arden’s cheeks. At my amused gaze, he took my hand and held it.
“Michael is helping me with my memoir,” Arden said.
“The one about your father?” Matteo asked, and Arden nodded. “He doesn’t let me read a word of his writing. How about you?”
I shook my head slightly. “He’s been very secretive so far.”
Arden shrugged helplessly. “I keep surrounding myself with masters. I feel inferior in comparison. I wouldn’t want to embarrass either one of you, so I keep my novice attempts to myself.”
“Arden,” I said softly, hoping that wasn’t true. “I’d be happy to look at whatever you’ve written. I’m not a harsh critic.” I also didn’t care to be lumped into the same category as his “benefactor.”
“How could you be truthful if it were shit?” he reasoned. “And how could I assume anything else?”
“Arden and his riddles,” Matteo said with a mixture of tedium and affection. That we might have more in common than I thought was a little unsettling. “Ah, here’s Mr. Horne with our drinks.”
The drinks were duly distributed, and I took a few sips of mine, welcoming both the liquid’s chill and the soft embrace of gin. It was a good cocktail, floral undertones with a sharp bite. It was warm out there on the veranda with my suit absorbing the sun’s rays, along with Matteo’s critical eye. Sweat dripped down my neck and spine. It wasn’t unlike meeting a man’s father for the first time, and I found myself wanting to prove my worth in some way.
Not to mention I had questions that bordered on invasive. It was overwhelming me to keep my curiosity at bay. Arden kept up conversation on inconsequential matters, and I studied the body language between them, trying to keep their more carnal experiences out of my mind. Arden nudged me with his foot. Matteo had addressed me directly.
“I’m sorry?” I tugged at my collar again.
“I suggested Arden take a tour of the greenhouse so that I might get to know you better.”
I glanced over at Arden who seemed to be waiting for my permission. “Yes, that’s fine.” I sat up straighter in my chair.
Arden crossed the veranda like it was a catwalk and entered into the greenhouse, leaving the door open behind him. Through the glass, I could still see him, surrounded by what looked like a vast array of tropical plants. I couldn’t imagine a more fitting backdrop, and I wondered if the moist heat and flora reminded him of home.
“Do you have any questions for me?” Matteo said.
“I was given strict orders to behave myself.”
Matteo laughed, deep and rich in its timbre. “Arden worries too much. I arranged this meeting because I thought it might be best for us to get to know each other as friends. Please, you need only ask.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I was visiting a friend in Sarasota. We met at a house party.” Matteo paused but only for a moment. “Arden was the main attraction. I was struck by both his beauty and the utter desperation of his situation. I paid for his company for a few days, thinking my infatuation might pass, but it didn’t. So, I brought him back with me to New York, locked up my liquor cabinet, and gave him some conditions. He fell into modeling quite accidentally, though I should have known he’d be good at it. He’s attractive enough and has a very pleasant disposition.”
Was he implying that Arden was eager to please? Would he be wrong in that assessment? Matteo gazed across the veranda to where Arden was spritzing plants before turning the nozzle on himself.
“What’s the nature of your relationship now?” I asked.
“Do you know of the Medici family?”
I’d been to Italy a couple of times with my father to visit distant relatives, and later, I’d spent a summer abroad in Rome and had traveled extensively throughout the country, including Florence where I learned more of the Medici’s influence over art and culture. They were like the centuries-old Italian version of the Kennedys.
