While we’re lying together and staring at the stars, Sir asks me again what I want to do with my life—he asks me to tell him about my dreams—and I say to himagain, “All I want is to live here on this beautiful island and serve you and Master. Isn’t that what you both want from me? Isn’t that enough?”
“Yes, Giovanni,” he says with a smile and a kiss on my cheek, “that is more than enough.”
The next dayI must return to Master, and though I offer to make the short trek back to his manor on my own, Sir insists on accompanying me.
“I’m more trustworthy now,” I tell him, in case he’s worried about my safety. I often go to my gigs alone, only checking in with Master once or twice, and Anthony no longer has to supervise me when I’m at home.
“It’s not that, princess. I just wanted a goodbye kiss.”
In the cobblestone courtyard, he presses me against the wall with his hands in my hair and kisses me with the passion I’ve come to expect from Sir, an endless fountain that at once slakes my thirst while nearly drowning me at the same time.
Master strolls out to the veranda during Sir’s goodbye kiss and clears his throat. Sir finally pulls away with messy hair and red, swollen lips. I can only imagine how I look.
“I take it you had a good time with myschiavo, Silvio?” Master asks, his assessing gaze flicking over me from head to foot.
“He is just as sweet as I remember,” Sir says and smacks his lip. “Maybe sweeter.”
“Well,” Master says. “Will you be staying for a while?”
“I have no plans to leave,” Sir says, still looking at me.
“Then we’ll have to discuss some sort of long-term arrangement.”
“I think so.”
“Giovanni,” Master says. “You have some practicing to do on the piano while the men discuss matters.”
“Yes, Master,” I tell him, bowing slightly.
I try to temper my enthusiasm, but inside this slave is rejoicing because Sir is here to stay.
When Master callsme to the veranda later, Sir is gone. He invites me to sit because he’d like to talk man-to-man. I think it’s going to be about his and Sir’s arrangement, but sadly, it’s not. It’s about my finances.
I have a lot of money. Well, Matthew has a lot of money. The last time Master showed me the paperwork regarding my investments, it was quite a lot, and I imagine it just keeps growing. Master asked me a while back where I’d like to dedicate my charitable donations. There are a few small galleries and art restoration projects that I donate a portion of my wealth to, as well as a scholarship fund for young artists and musicians. My gig money I usually just tithe on Sunday to one of the churches or pass it off as tip money to the servers at the restaurants where I play. I buy stationary fromSignorMaggio too and use it to write love letters to both Master and Sir, though I never send them. The letters are just for me, one of Rebekah’s suggestions to help me sort through my feelings.
“I met with your financial advisor while I was in Roma,” Master says, and when I don’t respond, he continues, “You’re a very wealthy young man.”
“Thank you, Master, for taking care of this slave’s finances in a responsible way.”
“I’m telling you this because the money is there for you if you ever wanted to pursue a degree or attend a music conservatory or travel.”
My anxiety flares whenever Master starts speaking in this way, about my future and the prospect that I may have to leave him.
“Would you like to do any of those things?” Master prompts when I am silent for too long.
“Not without my Master,” I tell him, “and not without my Sir.”
It takes a long time for me to get attached, but when I do, I tend to not let go. Master looks pensive, as though he’s trying to tread lightly with his next words. “I know you’re happy here, Giovanni, but you are still very young. There are a lot of opportunities for a man with your talents and intelligence.”
This feels a lot like Sir questioning me about my dreams as if the one I have isn’t good enough. “Is this another conversation about my potential?” I ask while trying to keep my tone respectful.
“This is a conversation about your future, yes, and where you might see yourself in five or ten years.”
“You said this was my home.”
“Thisisyour home, Giovanni. No matter where you go or for how long you are away, you canalwayscome back here."
“I don’t want to go anywhere. I love this island and I love our routines and I love you and Sir. You wanted me to get a job, so I got a job. You wanted me to make friends, so I did. You wanted me to be more independent, and I am. What more do you want from me, Master, if not to be rid of me altogether?”
