Luckily, Pia wasn’t required to respond as the ushers were showing them to their seats on a balcony, which she was delighted to find was an individual room with a private coat closet across the hallway from the box.
While Raphael exchanged words with the usher, Pia took in the historical circle-style theater that she’d heard so much about. The energy of the place was incredible. Gorgeously decorated in gold and stunning red velvet, the teatro was everything she’d hoped it would be. Pushing up her glasses, she began to people watch, because the women and men were dressed in elegant designer outfits that would probably rival the costumes themselves.
When Raphael tapped on her shoulder and showed her to a seat, Pia smiled sheepishly. “I’m sure my enthusiasm must look very provincial to you. But Nonni described this very theater to me so many times and all the wonderful productions she had seen here before she left Italy that I can’t believe I’m finally here.
It feels as if I have waited forever to see this. I think she wanted me to come here too.” Tears filled her eyes, a sudden ache filling her to her very soul.
She knew Lucia had come here with Giovanni once. The special friend her Nonni had always mentioned with melancholy in her eyes could be no one else. And yet, soon after, they had had a big row, and Lucia had fled Italy while Gio, in a fit of anger, had engaged himself to a heiress.
Suddenly, that Raphael had brought her to the same theater, to the same opera, struck a chord of fear through her. She shivered, and instantly Raphael pulled her into his embrace.
Pia hid her face in his chest, embarrassed by her irrational fear. This was ridiculous. She and Raphael were different from Gio and Lucia.
For one thing, they were older and wiser. They understood each other much better. And yes, at every chance possible, Raphael stubbornly claimed that he didn’t believe in love while she still did. But hadn’t he shown her that he cared for her in a million ways over the last month and a half?
Weren’t actions worth more than words?
Despite his cynicism because of his marriage to Allegra, despite his hardened exterior from having to raise his family from sudden calamity to prosperity, wasn’t his desire to marry her based on loyalty and respect? Didn’t it prove that somewhere in his heart Raphael did care for her?
The man who had so ruthlessly accused her of being an impostor and a cheat the night of the ball, the man who had threatened to cut his ex-wife out of their child’s life, Pia would have never expected him to consider marriage at all.
But it was he who had accepted the consequences of their night first. He who hadn’t hesitated even for a moment over the step they would have to take for the future.
What she felt for Raphael—she was so scared of calling it love—was so much more complex than what she felt for Frank. Frank had only pandered to what she had so desperately needed at that time in her life whereas Raphael could be infuriating and arrogant but he would never lie to her.
He would never deceive Pia, would never make her feel as if he needed an added incentive to be with her, to somehow make up for her plainness and her shyness. For the glitter she lacked.
So what if he would never admit in so many words that he loved her? Wasn’t what they had better, more real than some notion of love she had cooked up in her head?
His abrasive palms covered her bare arms and moved up and down. “Your skin is ice-cold, Pia. What is it?”
“Nothing. Thank you so much for this, Raphael.”
“Never apologize for your enthusiasm for everything in life, cara mia. Haven’t I convinced you yet that your pleasure, in all things, leads to mine?”
Pia blushed and cast a confused gaze at the empty seats in some of the private rooms for the opera was about to begin soon. “Antonio told me this particular production of Rigoletto had been sold out months ago.” She sat down next to Raphael and adjusted her dress. “Do you think they’re late?”
“I asked a friend of mine to buy as many tickets as he could on this level.”
“But why?”
“Because I wanted you all to myself. And I wanted this night to be special for you.” Pia gasped as only now she noticed a bucket of champagne on the table and a small velvet box in his palm.