Without any further elaboration on the revelation he just shared, he places his palm on the small of my back and ushers me toward the door.
“But-but, what about the necklace?” I stammer as we walk down the flower-lined corridor.
“I assured the museum that I will get it back to them in a couple of days so they can continue showcasing it through the end of the exhibition. If that’s alright with you, of course.”
“Me?”
“Well, that shade of purple doesn’t really go with my eyes.” He stretches out his hand and opens the door leading to the foyer. “The trinket is yours, Little Iris.”
***
“Dreadful, dreadful timing. Inexcusable negligence,” the middle-aged gentleman in the brown suit exclaims, patting Adriano’s shoulder. “You’ll sue the HVAC company, of course.The emotional distress alone is worth millions in compensation, don’t you think?”
“Already on it.” My husband nods as he picks up a beverage from the tray of a hovering waiter and passes it to me.
I take a sip and then drain the entire contents of the glass, barely registering the tangy taste of lemonade. It feels as if I’m stuck in a fog, unable to find my way out. I’m moving purely because of muscle memory, without putting any actual thought into my actions. All of my mental power has been funneled into containing my terror. I’m utterly terrified of the necklace slipping off my neck and crashing to the floor. And the priceless purple diamond shattering into a million tiny pieces. It doesn’t help that dozens of people nearly swarmed us and were practically gaping at my neck as soon as Adriano and I stepped into the great room. Their attention only boosted my already heightened anxiety.
The diamond necklace has everyone captivated, but I’m thankful that the questions about it have been mostly leveled at my husband. I only received a few offhand comments and congratulations, which I accepted with polite but mumbled replies. The buzz about our wedding ceremony, and now the necklace, is starting to press in on me like a physical force. But it’s the jewelry around my neck that’s really dragging me down. I’d swear that the violet diamond weighs a ton. Probably because of the grim history it’s steeped in.
For a while now, I’ve wondered what could have made Adriano as uncaring and merciless as he is. What could have destroyed every speck of empathy and care for other people in him? I think I may have found part of the answer tonight. Even without knowing the full details, what he shared with me was enough. Adriano’s father cared more for his money than for hisson. His only son. What would learning something like that do to a person? Would it freeze his heart along with his feelings?
The slight, odd smile on Adriano’s face when he delivered that tidbit is still giving me chills. There wasn’t even a hint of sadness in his expression. Just…a strange kind of amusement. As if his father’s actions weren’t a surprise to him. As if…it was something he expected.
My God! What is it like to live your life knowing that you meannothingto the people who should love you the most?
“You should get rid of it,” I blurt, swallowing past the threatening tears.
My husband stops his conversation with the gentleman in the brown suit mid-sentence and turns to me. “Get rid of what?”
I look up at him, meeting that piercing blue gaze intent on me from behind his glasses. “Donate it to the museum. Bestow. Gift it. Whatever. Just…get rid of it.”
His eyebrows creep up. “I tend not to simplyget ridof other people’s belongings.”
I bite my bottom lip. I don’t care about its worth. I’m also not sure why it feels so crucial, but everything in me screams that Adriano needs to get rid of this thing. I justknowhe has to.
Reaching out, I grab his hand and squeeze. “Please.”
“Ah, women.” The brown-suited guy’s throaty laugh rings out between us. “Always finding ways to part us from our money. What is it she wants you to give away? A painting she doesn’t like? An ugly rug that doesn’t fit with her style?”
“Goccia di Luna,” my husband replies, his icy eyes boring into mine.
The guy’s laugh turns into a nearly hysterical guffaw.
Adriano ignores him. “But, it’s yours, Little Iris.” He squeezes my hand back. “It’s one of a kind. Priceless. Why would you want to give it away?”
I could tell him the truth. I could admit that I don’t want him to be reminded of the painful past tied to this necklace. Regardless of how unbothered he seems by what happened to him, of how coldhearted he is these days, I’m certain he wasn’t like that before. But…if I tell him that, he’d surely deny me. I’m one hundred percent certain of it. I’ve been trying to solve the puzzle of Adriano Ruffo for a while now, and despite still not having all the pieces, I’m beginning to comprehend the picture.
“The color,” I say instead. “It doesn’t suit my eyes, either.”
A crooked smile lifts a corner of his lips, momentarily transforming his facial expression. But it’s gone too fast for me to get a read. Behind the lenses, his eyes squint, as if a foreign emotion is rising to the surface of their glacial depths. He turns away, resuming his conversation with the brown-suited fellow. I guess stock market fluctuations are more important than trying to bring his soul a little peace.
Yeah, it was probably a stupid idea. Who asks to get rid of a priceless gem?
Still, Adriano doesn’t let go of my hand.
And I let the warmth of it settle me.
My gaze sweeps the crowd, hoping to spot Evelyn or Rina, both of whom have disappeared after they went to grab refreshments, when a familiar high-pitched voice on my right startles me.
