Taviano hadn’t expected their combined energy to be so potent. He should have. Their power was growing, so the sexual component between them had to be as well. Sex, power, their minds merging; the connection was so strong, just their fingers threaded together nearly pulled them from their chairs into the thin tube she had placed the tips of her fingers into.
He used the strength of his body to hold them in place. “Breathe. Use the meditative breathing.”
Nicoletta heard him, although he spoke in a mere whisper. She began immediately, matching her breath to his. He could feel his mother getting closer, the weight of her disapproval obvious with every step she took. Her dark censure sank into the flooring and spread through the house like doom, moving ahead of her.
“Feel her? She’s close to us now. In the hall.”
“Yes.” Nicoletta breathed the word back to him. There was triumph in her mind. Excitement that she could feel the energy vibrating through the house, even though it was negative energy.
Nicoletta pulled her fingertips from the shadow and picked up her fork. She let go of Taviano’s hand and casually pulled her legs up under her skirt as Eloisa walked into the room. Taviano had seen her do that so many times, tuck her legs onto a chair in tailor-fashion, making herself smaller. It had never bothered him until now, until this moment when his mother had entered their home and he wanted Nicoletta to realize that Eloisa was in Nicoletta’s territory, not the other way around.
As always, his mother looked elegant. There was no other word for Eloisa. She might storm into a room like a wild tornado, but she commanded it and drew every eye. She was tall and beautiful, timeless in her beauty. Her hair was still thick and dark, streaked now with silver, but classy, as if she had been kissed by the sun. When she walked in and the morning sun hit her, she looked as if she might have wings. He knew that look was very deceiving.
“Good morning, Eloisa.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Ferraro,” Nicoletta added.
Taviano wished he was sitting next to his bride instead of opposite her. Her voice was soft and musical, but just that little bit hesitant, and he knew his mother would catch that, chew her up and spit her out. If he had been sitting close, he could have shielded his bride, put his arm around her, at least protect her a little with his larger body.
“I despise being called that,” Eloisa hissed, glaring at Nicoletta.
“What would you prefer I call you, then?” Nicoletta asked.
Eloisa put her doubled fists on her hips and leveled her cold gaze at Taviano’s wife. “I would prefer that you didn’t speak to me at all.”
Before Taviano could reprimand his mother, Nicoletta nodded. “I would prefer that as well, but in my home, which is here and, obviously, with Lucia and Amo, you can do your best not to be rude or don’t bother coming around. Outside of either place, we’ll agree I won’t speak to you and you don’t speak to me.”
Taviano could barely keep the grin from his face. His woman was no shrinking violet. She might not want to be rude to Lucia’s friend, his mother, but she wasn’t going to take Eloisa’s bullshit anymore, not after his revelations.
The color drained from Eloisa’s face. “How dare you speak to me like that?”
“Why? Because of your age? What have you ever done to earn my respect? Not one single thing. You haven’t shown any compassion toward me and what happened to me, but why would you when you couldn’t show it to your own child? You don’t have to like me, Eloisa. In fact, I don’t care one way or the other if you do. But you aren’t going to be rude to me in my own home. You aren’t going to be rude to me in front of Lucia and Amo anymore because it makes them uncomfortable, and when you leave, Lucia cries. You’re bitter and angry because you made very bad choices, and you refuse to stop making them, as if somehow that’s going to justify what you did. Here’s a news flash for you.” Nicoletta leaned forward, staring her mother-in-law straight in the eye. “There is no justification.”
Eloisa’s face changed from icy hauteur to sheer hatred. She actually shrieked, her hand flashing out, fingers curved into a claw, long nails like hooks slashing at Nicoletta’s eyes. The sound of Taviano’s hand connecting with her wrist was loud as he slammed his mother’s arm away from Nicoletta, who had turned just enough and shockingly fast so that the claw barely missed her face. He’d hit his mother’s arm hard, so hard he was afraid he had bruised her at the very least, maybe even cracked a bone. He hadn’t had time to soften the block, fear for Nicoletta uppermost in his mind. Eloisa looked as shocked as Taviano felt. He’d never seen his mother lose control. She could have blinded Nicoletta.