“We should all be so lucky.” Giana smiles, tossing the top sheet over the bed and not complaining when I grab it and start helping her tuck it in. “I’ve felt that way about keeping house for the Agostis. The boys’ father was a bit of a hard-nosed man back in the days he was alive, that’s for sure, but all I really had to do was keep out of his way and his business, nod when he gave orders, and then do things the way I knew they should be done best. And when it all came out fine in the wash, he never complained.”
She half-smiles at me. “It’s a shame Maximilian can’t see what’s right in front of him. His brother passed on before he could marry and have children, and I doubt Arturo will ever pick a girl and settle down. Maximilian wasn’t meant to have children, of course, and I’d given up hope of ever hearing any little feet in these halls before I pass on too. But now that he’s left the Church–” Giana gives me a piercing look, and I can feel my cheeks flush.
“I wouldn’t pin too many hopes on that,” I say quietly. “Max seems pretty determined to stick to the path that was picked for him, as best as he can now. And as for me–”
I take a long breath, thinking of the vineyards and the stables and the estate that I’ve so quickly grown fond of, and my chest aches as I finish. “I’ll be going back to New York as soon as I’m able to. What Max does after that–that probably won’t have anything to do with me.”
Giana nods, a pensive expression on her face. “Well, it’s like I said. It’s a shame he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
She shakes out a heavy duvet over the bed between us, giving me enough time to school my expression before I catch it, helping her smooth it out.
“I imagine Art is staying for dinner,” I say slowly, reaching to help her stack the pillows onto the bed. “Do you need any help with that?”
Giana waves a hand. “If I can’t manage dinner for three, I ought to give up now and go out to pasture.” She looks at me assessingly, setting the last of the pillows on the bed. “What did you think of Max’s brother?”
“Me?” I glance at her, surprised at the question. “I–I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him for long. He was handsome? Charming, I suppose, once he tried to make up for a very inappropriate comment.”
Giana frowns. “He is that, when he wants to be. But he’s also smarter than he looks and not always to his benefit. Remember that, Sasha.”
I pat the duvet absently, leaning against the footboard. “Max was so hostile to him. And you don’t seem thrilled that he’s here either–what am I missing? Surely he just wanted to see his brother again, like he said.”
“Maybe.” Giana reaches for the empty basket next to her. “I’m just saying–Art has always been a devious, mischievous one. It’s worth being careful of his motives. I haven’t heard a peep from him all these years, and neither has Tommas.” She shrugs. “Maybe he just doesn’t think it worth his time to keep up with the help, but I raised those boys as much as their mother did. Max certainly made sure to send me a message here and there over the years.”
She reaches out with a free hand, patting my arm in a motherly way. “You get some rest, girl. You look a little pale around the edges. I can handle our unexpected company, don’t you worry.”
I watch her leave, a sudden, unsettled feeling in my stomach that’s stronger than before.
—
I stay in my room for the rest of the day, not wanting to encounter either of the brothers in another awkward conversation, changing into a silky blue wrap dress for dinner. When I come downstairs, the floor level of the house is full of the rich smells of whatever Giana has cooked up for dinner, and I can see the light coming from the smaller dining room.
When I walk in, Max and Art are already at the table, and the silence in the room speaks volumes. There’s wine already decanted in the middle of the three places set for us. I head immediately to the open seat at Max’s right, murmuring apologies as I sit down under the glowing chandelier above us that gleams down onto the smooth dark wood of the table.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Max says calmly. “We’ve only just sat down.”
“I took a nap,” I admit, reaching for the decanter of wine. “That ride really took it out of me. The–trail ride. With the horses.”
I feel myself flushing, but if Max notices, Art doesn’t–as he’s too busy slipping the decanter out of my reach. Before I can protest, he smoothly pours a glass for me, flashing me a charming, toothy smile.
“You shouldn’t have to pour your own glass,” Art chides teasingly, sliding the wine towards me. “Someone as beautiful as you should be waited on hand and foot, every moment of your life.”
“I think I’d be very uncomfortable with that,” I tell him dryly, swirling the wine around my glass before taking a sip.
“Is this strange for you?” Art asks, nodding towards Giana as she brings in our soup course, a chilled tomato gazpacho. “Having staff, I mean.”
“No,” I admit, smiling at Giana as she sets down my bowl. “There’s staff at the house where I normally live. And I do get to take advantage of it, even though I’m technically one of them. But I’ve never really felt comfortable with it–I didn’t grow up like this, and it always feels a little wrong to me, like I should be helping or doing for myself.”
“I have to say, I’ve gotten quite used to that myself,” Art says, flashing me another of those smiles before dipping his spoon in his soup. “I don’t have staff in Milan. Well–I do have a cleaning lady who comes once a week, but I don’t really see that as staff. It’s not as if she’s around all the time.”
“I suppose you’ve learned to cook for yourself?” Max asks dryly, and Art grins mischievously.
“Of course not. I order in.”
Max rolls his eyes. “Just because you don’t have a traditional household staff doesn’t mean you’ve learned to take care of yourself, if you’re getting meals delivered and someone is cleaning up after you.”
“And I suppose you don’t take advantage of this staff that Miss–” Art trails off, glancing at me. “You said your name was Sasha, right?”
“Yes.” I take another sip of the soup, feeling my heart flutter in my chest for some indecipherable reason. “Sasha Federova.”