She wasn’t touching that one, either. There were just too many things Taviano was alluding to, and she couldn’t keep up with him, or even have hope. He’d totally shot her down once, and that had been enough to shatter her heart. She wasn’t going there again. She couldn’t and keep her hard-won confidence. She had been around him and his family for three years. In that time, no matter how big a fool she’d made of herself, or how much she’d hated herself for what had happened to her, the Ferraros had been patient with her.
Taviano had never told anyone of her conduct that night. He could have. He could have told her foster parents. He could have told his family. He had never changed his patient ways with her. Or his caring. He had been careful not to be alone with her, and truthfully, that hurt, but she understood and even was grateful. She had made changes, studying the way she should have. Listening to the counselor and trying to implement what was said. Putting her trust in Lucia and talking things over with her when she found herself particularly upset and having nightmares. Opening herself to loving again. And that meant herself as well.
She had to find her own strengths and weaknesses. The Ferraros had offered to train her in self-defense, and she’d taken them up on that offer. That meant getting close to their family, and she wasn’t sorry about that. They took her in and acted as if she were a part of them. They didn’t hold back at all—other than Eloisa, who treated her with the utmost disdain, but she was never at Francesca and Stefano’s penthouse, which was where Nicoletta went for training. She only ran into Eloisa when the woman came to visit Lucia.
Nicoletta was in love with Taviano. It wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t just about him saving her life. There was a difference in the way the Ferraros were in private with their family and the way they appeared in public. She was always treated like family. Always. She saw the real Taviano and she loved everything about him. How gentle and kind he was. How he could get that flash of temper that could erupt and burn hot and go away just as fast, so that he was laughing. The way he held his nephew so gently, whispering to him, laughing, pushing a stroller down the street, and later, holding his little hand.
Taviano sat on the floor and played instruments with Crispino or raced little cars, sometimes rolled balls across the floor. It didn’t matter what kind of toys his nephew wanted to play with, he was ready, and he had infinite patience. She loved that about him. All of his brothers and Emmanuelle appeared to be the same, but she could never quite take her eyes off Taviano when he was with Crispino.
Nicoletta also loved his relationship with Emmanuelle. The two often laughed together. All the brothers were protective of their sister. She envied Emmanuelle that at first, but then realized they seemed equally as protective of her. Then she became aware of a deep sadness in Emmanuelle, and she found herself growing protective of Taviano’s sister for no reason she really understood other than she seemed very sad at times.
Emmanuelle traveled quite often, staying in New York with her cousins, and sometimes going to Italy to stay with relatives there, but after a few months, she would return and bury her face in little Crispino’s neck and proclaim he was the love of her life and she could never leave him again.
“Why is Eloisa so cutting to Emmanuelle, Taviano? She visits Lucia often, and sometimes Emmanuelle comes with her, and when she does, Eloisa says really snarky things to put her down in front of Lucia. I mean, she says them about me, but I expect that.”
Taviano frowned. “What do you mean, she says them about you? I specifically asked Lucia to report to me if Eloisa was upsetting you with her visits.”
“She isn’t upsetting me. I was asking you about Emmanuelle.”
“I was asking you about what Eloisa says to or about you,” Taviano said, his voice turning hard. “Answer me, Nicoletta.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Taviano. You know very well the kind of sneering voice she uses and the cutting remarks she makes.”
He stood up, towering over her. His face became stone, eyes glittering down at her, two twin gems that looked suddenly frightening. “Answer me, Nicoletta,” he reiterated.
She didn’t hesitate, heart kicking into overdrive. “I’m beneath Lucia, and Eloisa has no idea why Lucia and Amo would take me in. I’m old enough now for them to kick me out, and they’ve done their good deed and don’t have to continue to flog themselves mercilessly for sins they never committed in the first place. I’m going to turn on them and rob them blind. I’m going to stab them in their sleep. I’ve already brought trouble on the Ferraro family, look what happened to Vittorio right outside their home because I was crawling out the window trying to have a rendezvous with some boy. I’m a slut and whore and I sleep around, she has that on good word, and she’s only trying to spare Lucia heartache. Naturally that isn’t all said on the same visit; she spreads it around. Lucia, of course, stands up to her, but there it is.”