I bite my lower lip, afraid I’m going to start crying. In this moment, I feel as if no one has ever truly seen me before Nico.
He sits across from me and sips his wine. “When I first met you, I thought you were submissive. Doing what your father asked you to do.”
“I did do what he asked me to do.”
“Eat,” he urges.
I twirl some pasta onto my fork and steady it with a spoon, gathering the strands into a neat bite.
“I did what he asked me to do as well,” he continues. “But then I got to know you, and ever since then I’ve been in awe of you.”
I eat the pasta and nod appreciatively. “This is good.”
“It’s easy to cook well when you have good ingredients.” He takes my hand in his. “I think I fell in love with you thatnight at the Palazzo, when you held your head high even when I was being an ass…especially about Chiara.”
I tangle my fingers with his. “You say it so easily.”
“What?”
“That you…ah…you know…” I trail off, releasing my hand from his, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious.
“That I love you?” he asks, amused.
I roll my eyes.
“I do love you, Alessia—deeply, completely.”
“Don’t you sometimes think it’s too soon for us to have confessed that? Felt it?” I wonder aloud because he’s making my heart do that stop and race thing that I’m sure is not good for me.
He gives me an indulgent smile. “No,dolcezza. It’s not, and you know it.” He eats some of his pasta, then lifts his wineglass.
I clink my glass against his.
“When did you fall in love with me?” he asks nonchalantly.
Cheeky bastard.
“Now, that’s presumptuous.”
A playful glint softens his gaze. “Tell me.Per favore.”
I can’t resist his plea. “I think it was when you came for harvest…and….”
“And?” he prompts.
“Right after harvest, everything changed, and now I don’t know how to own what I feel,” I tell him candidly.
His gaze carries the weight of regret. “I am really sorry, Alessia.”
“I know.” I hold his gaze for a moment, and then, because I want to change the subject, I say, “Now, going back to Judith—or rather, Holofernes.”
He waits.
“She seduced him first and then decapitated him.” I leanback in my chair, holding my glass of wine. “That makes her pretty wily.”
He lets me steer us away from the serious, understanding I’m not ready to talk further about us. “I think of her as brave. Holofernes attacked Bethulia and was starving the city into submission.” He pauses. “She risked her life to save her people. That’s not seduction—that’s strategy.”
“Holofernes is a classic archetype of pride—the oppressor brought low,” I remark. “Judith, in a way, becomes the hand of God in the story.”
