I shove the memory out of my mind and kneel on one knee in front of Natalia.
“Natalia,” I say warmly. I take in her mother’s vivacious blue eyes, as pretty and precocious as ever. Thankfully she doesn’t look a thing like her cheating asshole of a father. “How are you, baby?”
Her hair’s gotten darker and wilder, curly and unruly, and her affinity for pretty pink things hasn’t changed. She’s enrobed in miles of pale pink with a matching hair bow attached precariously to her curly hair. Usually, Natalia’s accompanied by her nanny, but when I’m around, the girl stands well in the background unless I call her.
“I am so good, Uncle Santo,” she says solemnly. “I have missed you so much. I bring Fluffy to bed every night, and do what you told me to.”
Fluffy, a stuffed golden retriever, is a special little toy with a hidden video camera. I gave it to Natalia as a parting gift, and told her to put it on her nightstand every night before bed.
I want to know they’re safe. And I like to sit at home in Tuscany watching Rosa, her hair down and makeup off, dressed in her pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed and reading her a bedtime story. I imagine I’m there.
Maybe it’s fucked up. Fucked up’s my middle name.
“Shhh, baby,” I say, bringing my finger to her lips to keep her quiet. “Remember, that’s our little secret.”
Her blue eyes go wide and she nods solemnly. “Right,” she whispers, loud enough to wake the dead.
The night before I left for my exile, I took Natalia out for a walk. I’d miss her almost as much as I’d miss Rosa. “Look out for your mama,” I told Natalia. “When I’m not here to do it myself.”
Simple words. Fairly innocuous. But it’s best if I keep my instructions between the two of us.
“And where is your mama?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. My eyes are on my brothers when I ask, but they’re all preoccupied. But before Natalia responds, I feel Rosa—my Rosa—enter the room. My heart begins to beat a little faster, my skin prickling with awareness. It’s as if the very pieces of my heart are knit back together when she’s near.
With expert skill, I close that door and assume my usual detached mask.
“There she is,” Natalia says with a grin. She grabs my hand. “C’mon! Go say hi!” Her smile fades a little. “She misses you when you’re gone. So much.”
A pang hits my heart.
How does she know Rosa misses me?
I brush Romeo’s arm as we walk past. He nods coolly. I wonder if he heard Natalia.
I look around until I spot her, like a radiant beam of light, at the entrance to the Great Hall.
Rosa’s scanning the room. She hasn’t seen me yet.
Rosa.
My entire fucking world stands on stilettos at the entrance to the Great Hall, cast in a soft yellow glow from a lamp in the hallway behind her, giving her an almost ethereal glow.
She ain’t no angel, though. This woman’s not even mine. Still, I swallow the lump in my throat at the sight of her.
I’ve seen models that were less stunning than Rosa. The only word that comes to mind when I see her is… regal. On the taller side for a Rossi woman, she stands on death-defying heels that make her legs look fucking stunning. She has a taste for fine clothes, and it shows. She wears a slim-fitting pair of designer jeans that fit her like a glove, and a vibrant, slouchy red top that’s gauzy and transparent, over a thin white cotton tank.
Rosa may be older than me by a few years, but she’s been smaller since we met, and age never meant a damn thing to us. The angelic scent of her perfume wafts through the air when I get only a few feet away.
I almost don’t want her to see me. There’s only so much familiarity I can show.
Her gaze comes to me, but her eyes are as cool as the last time we met. Hardly any recognition.
It’s for our own good, I know it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel the coolness like a stab of ice. Her lips glimmer with the trace of a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Santo,” she says softly. “How are you?”
I’m tempted to shake her fucking hand like she’s a distant relative, but Natalia will have none of it.
“Mama, he’s been gone so long, hug him, Mama.”
She yanks me forward.
Rosa lifts her arms to me and hugs me. I’m engulfed in her scent, the warmth of her, the way she fits as if she were carved right here into my arms.
I’m glad my back’s to the whole damn lot of them, so I can close my eyes and revel in this moment. I swallow the lump in my throat and hold her, a stolen moment of perfection right here among the men that would dig my grave if they knew the truth.