“Yes, there was a storybook my father bought me when I was small about a wood nymph and her forest friends. I loved that story. I wantedto be that magical creature. But my mother said it was wrong and birthday parties were, too. She said I was vain and selfish, craving attention and gifts and had wicked heathen interests. She sent me to the nuns. I scrubbed the floors of the parish all day instead. I never asked to have a party again.”
Zeta wraps me up in a hug I wish would never end, cupping my face in that motherly way of hers. “Vain and selfish are the very last words I’d use to describe you, Matilde.”
When I dare glance at Nico again, he’s scowling at his wristwatch. He either wishes it was time to leave, or he thinks I made up a story to make his mother feel sorry for me.The Capo’s Charity Case.
Zeta introduces me to more people after that. I’ve already met Gia’s husband and didn’t like him. His brother and sister-in-law don’t make a favorable impression either.
“This is our son, Giacomo, and his wife, Vera,” Antonio Barzetti says, introducing the pair.
Attractive and around Nico’s age, with thick, wavy hair, Giacomo steps forward, smiling warmly, while his wife keeps her head bowed. “It’s lovely to meet you, Matilde.”
He bends low to kiss my hand. The courtesy is expected, but… Did he justlickmy hand?
I recoil and find Nico at my side again. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your party, Matilde. Giacomo, walk with me for a moment.”
The younger Barzetti gives me a wink and follows Nico into the hall. “I thought he might stay for cake,” I murmur, pitifully disappointed that he’s going.
Giacomo’s mother, Cosima, is the only one who hears me. Her smile is insincere. “He probably needs to take his children home… since the help is occupied.”
The help. Yes, that’s me.
***
“Matilde! Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry!” Zeta calls from below the next morning.
My stomach rumbles, telling me it is. After washing my face, I emerge from my room and nearly squash a gift box sitting on the floor. What on earth?
Tugging at the pretty ribbon, I open it to find a gold bracelet with a charm dangling from it. She looks very much like the wood nymph from my old storybook. Her hair is full of golden leaves, and her dress is beaded with tiny pearls. How? And who?
There’s a card attached to the box, the message dashed off in a man’s bold, spiky handwriting. My heart nearly stops when I read what he’s written:
Better late than never, a little magic for the birthday girl – N
11
Nico
“This is my first dance… with a man.”
Something completely unexpected and undeniably primal had roared to life inside me with Matilde’s admittance while holding her in my arms. I want to be the only man she dances with. I want to claim all of her firsts. I must protect her, too.
Ever since her birthday, she’s been constantly on my mind. A lonely farm girl leaving her unkind mother and her country behind after her father’s death. What’s the whole story there? I need to know more.
Drawn from my musings, I catch Caterina staring at me as we dance while I wonder if this reception is nearly done. I want to fly back to Chicago tonight, no matter how late. For the first time, I resent the impulse that had me insisting Matilde live with my parents the second she set foot inside my house. Honor demanded it for the sake of the girl she was and so I wouldn't be driven crazy having a bothersome child to supervise. She still drives me crazy, but I can't see her as a bothersome child anymore.
“Do you still have your little knife?” I ask my sister, thinking of the lessons I offered the nanny.
“Of course. Do you want to borrow it? Did you quarrel with Alessio earlier?” she asks, worriedly.
“Still my Curious Cat.” I turn us and dip her in time with the music, hoping to make her laugh.
“Nico…”
“Your husband and I will never be best friends, sweet one. It’s just the way we’re made. Don’t fret.”
I’d been asking him about Matilde. He was not forthcoming and kept referring to her asla topolina.Why doeshehave a nickname for her? And she’s not a fucking mouse. He’d asked about Dante being in Italy again, fishing for any connection to his sister Sofia’s disappearance, and our conversation had gone downhill from there.
I spot Caterina’s bodyguard and her other sister-in-law bickering like lovers nearby. “That looks like trouble.”
