“There you are, Iris!” Lucrezia’s clipped tone, which she usually reserves just for me, is absent. Instead, her voice drips with sugar as she rushes over and hooks her arm with mine.“Oh, it’s been months! You’re looking simply stunning. Listen, I was just telling Mikaela that we must get you involved in our New Year’s Eve committee. You’re one of us now, after all. We’re thinking that we might…”
I stare at my half sister as she grins back at me and continues to spew the plans she and her friends are making forla Famiglia’sbig year-end party. There isn’t even a speck of the condescension that has so often been slung my way over the years. Yet, as she talks, every mean thing she has said to me, every snide smile she ever gave me, replays in my mind. That contemptuous sneer as she asked me to wipe the dirt from her shoe, somehow, it slices me even deeper now. Because I finally understand what was behind it. It wasn’t directed at me specifically, but rather at what I represented. A lower class of human beings. Someone beneath her. Degradation no person should ever have to experience. Did she treat my mother the same way when she ran into her at the Veronese household? Mom never mentioned, but I have a feeling that Lucrezia had done just that.
“Ms. Saccone,” I interrupt her overjoyed tirade. “Please leave my home.”
Lucrezia stops halfway through her thought and stares at me with wide, shocked eyes. Red creeps up her cheeks while her gaze darts from me to Adriano, who broke off his discussion with the other man and has turned fully to me.
“Out,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. I’ve never heard him use that tone in public.
My half sister winces. She spins on her heel and rushes away, disappearing into the sea of guests.
“We’ll finish up our discussion at another time, Franco.” Adriano dismisses the other man, his eyes now trained on me. “What did she say to you?”
The expression darkening his face is outright vicious. And I have a feeling that if I tell him the truth, he will do something terrible. Something awful to hurt Lucrezia.
“It was nothing,” I finally push out.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he bends until his face is mere inches from mine. “I’ll find out.”
“Please don’t.”
The clamor and voices around us fade away. From the corner of my eye, I notice people watching us with great interest, their gazes trained on Adriano’s hand that’s still wrapped around mine.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ruffo,” an exuberant voice exclaims behind us. “Hello there!”
A smiling older man pokes his head between us over my husband’s arm. His shoulder-length white hair is slicked back from his face with what must be an obscene volume of hair gel. His silky black bow tie sits a little askew at his collar.
“Sorry to interrupt, my dearest Adriano, but there seems to be a bit of a commotion outside. I think your dog is doing his best to chew through the tires of your guests’ cars, and your security people are having a hard time trying to subdue him.” He smiles broadly, warmth shining in his eyes.
Adriano’s fingers uncurl from mine. He straightens and takes a step to the side. “Iris, this is Doctor Bartholomew Shaw.”
“So excited to finally meet you, fair lady.” Dr. Shaw grasps my extended hand, shaking it with both of his. “Adriano, youreally should go outside and sort out that mess. I’ll be happy to entertain your beautiful wife while you’re gone.”
My husband gives the man a pointed look before his attention shifts back to me. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t let Barty poke around your head too much. He won’t be able to help himself.”
My eyes follow my husband as he crosses the guest-filled room, heading toward the front door of the house. Although everyone had resumed their lively conversations and once again are enjoying their drinks and canapés, I notice how they subconsciously seem to shift out of Adriano’s way, all while continuing to smile and wave to him as he passes. It’s as though their primal instincts recognize the dangerous predator in their midst. And yet, they choose to believe only what their eyes show them.
Why am I the only one who sees through his mask? Or, am I the only person Adriano has allowed to see the real him? Will I ever discover that piece of the puzzle? Will he ever admit how I fit in?Do Ifit into Adriano’s world, or am I here only temporarily? Only time will tell, since my husband chooses to remain silent.
“Please, don’t mind his words. No psychiatrist would ever dare to poke around someone’s head without their permission,” Dr. Shaw gushes next to me. “Should we go see what goodies are being offered? I’m starving.”
“Sure.” This man doesn’t look like a psychiatrist. And definitely not like anyone Adriano would be friends with, but their exchange certainly came across that way. “How do you know my husband?”
“Oh, we go way back! A chance meeting, which was entirely my fault. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or…theright place at the right time. Depends on your point of view.” He stops in front of the buffet table and starts filling up a plate with a selection of elaborate finger foods. “And speaking of views… I couldn’t help but notice that you’re wearing the remarkableGoccia di Luna. It has been the Ruffo family’s most prized possession for nearly a century.”
“Hopefully, not for much longer.”
“What? Is Adriano considering parting with it? I can’t really see him giving it up for anything.”
“I thought he might consider donating it to the museum,” I mumble, then add, more for myself. “Sometimes it’s best to let go of the past.”
Dr. Shaw seems to gasp, and then coughs a few times to clear his throat.
“Dearest Iris,” he wheezes out. “I’m as optimistic as they come. But not even my level of optimism can convince me that certain things will ever happen.”
I glance across the room, my gaze instantly finding the tall, broad-shouldered figure leaning on the wall near the front door. Watching me. Even with all the bright lights from the crystal chandeliers that bathe everything in a brilliant glow, the space around my husband feels shadowed.
“You’re probably right,” I whisper.
