As soon as my back was to them, I stared while grinning from ear to ear. Only Nonna could have gotten away with such blatant rudeness.
Chapter 5
Sienna
My angel and I sat in her living room overlooking the rose garden while we played dealer’s choice and drank cups of soothing chamomile tea. She had beaten me twice already and was enjoying every moment of her wins. I relished her victory with all of my heart.
“Nonna, every time I play this with you, it seems like you’ve gotten better.”
“I do have a lot of time on my hands,” she replied in her elegant voice, “and nothing to do but practice. Did your father ever tell you that he lost this house to me when we were playing in the spring?”
My mouth fell open. “You’re joking. Did he really transfer the deed to you?”
“Not yet.” She laughed.
“Will you? Accept it from him, I mean.”
“Of course not, it was a friendly match. The only perk I'm interested in is the power to lord my ownership of the roof over his head. I do this whenever he gets out of line.”
I revered her. No one but Nonna could say such a thing about my fearsome father. I lost any influence over him when I was two. He ruled over our household with an iron hand. Stand means stand. Sit means sit. “Next time you’re playing with him, can you please win me his Performante Spyder? He’s never let me touch it, but yet he doesn’t use it himself either. What a waste.”
She frowned. “What on earth would you do with that beast of a car?”
I grinned. “Drive it fast somewhere?”
She shook her head disapprovingly. “Young girls nowadays. The things you want to do …”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
“No, I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll probably wrap it around a lamppost and kill yourself in the process,” she stated, then revealed her cards.
Yet again, I lost! Severely. “Again?” I mock complained, when in actual fact I loved watching the twinkle in her eyes.
She held her chest as she cackled with laughter at my expression.
“Nonna, you’re way too scary when you laugh like that.”
“Like a hyena?” she asked, her voice filled with amusement.
I made a face. “Exactly.”
We put the cards away when one of the maids brought a platter of fruit.
“What are your plans from here onwards?” she asked, picking up a slice of persimmon.
She was the first person to ask me this. Ever since I returned, I had featured inside everyone else’s plans, but only she had asked me about my plan. About what I intended to do.
I leaned forward, and enveloped her in a hug.
“What’s this for?” She laughed.
“Thank you,” I said, “for all the calls and letters while I was in England. I kept every single letter you wrote.”
She patted my back gently. “You’re my baby. Why should you be thanking me for something like that? I don’t thank you for writing back to me. I expect it. Now tell me what is really bothering you.”
I pulled away from her. “I’ve always danced to everyone else’s tunes. I’ve gone to school, I've gotten the degree, and now it seems I’m going to be pushed down the ‘next step’. What I really want to do is try my hand at something I’m passionate about.”
“For instance?”
I searched her eyes, for just an instant, I had a fear of being mocked. This would be the first time I told any member of my family about this. But in her eyes, I found only patience and pure love, so I took a deep breath and dove in, “For instance, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at something related to fashion … well, not fashion exactly, but shoes … and since we’re in LA perhaps even create a brand? Who knows?”
“Don’t you have to learn that trade first?”
“I’ve done that already.”
Her eyebrows flew upwards. “I thought you were studying economics and business administration.”
“Yes, I was, but I took a course at the London College of Fashion. I paid for it myself and went to class every Saturday for a year. They taught us everything, the different leather, how to design, the machines we need. I’ve got a certificate, and my teacher said I have real talent for it. She said she would be happy to recommend me to any of the big fashion houses, but I told her I had to come back. I knew Papa would never allow it.”
Before she could respond, a knock sounded on the door.
My father suddenly appeared. “Mama, it’s time for dinner,” he said, in that quiet voice of his.
My father was tall and commanding. Awe-inspiring, in fact. He had very dark, intense eyes, and thin lips often set in a hard, uncompromising line. Tonight, he wore a dark tuxedo, his gaze sharp as he assessed my appearance. He looked utterly aloof and unapproachable. “I heard you’ve been avoiding everyone,” he said.