Chapter 2

The atmosphere around the small informal dining table was stilted and distinctly uncomfortable. Giorgio's resentment of being summoned first to the office and now to supper had spilled over and he was still seething.

He had dressed for the occasion, choosing slim tailored black pants and a cream cashmere sweater that threw his tan into stark contrast. His hair was well groomed and brushed away from his broad intelligent forehead.

The gnocchi was excellent as usual, but he could not do justice to the meal. His father had tried to engage him in conversation several times but had given up after a few monosyllabic responses to his questions. The room had been designed by his mother, when she insisted on making family dinner an intimate affair.

That was one of the many reasons, he was feeling heavy and moody. He had the distinct impression that the man seated across from him had deliberately informed the kitchen to serve the meal in this room.

The light and cheery gold and blue décor was suddenly oppressive. He could feel his mother's presence as if she was standing right next to him and rebuking him for his carefree existence.

"The meal is not to your liking?"

The question brought home the fact that he had been pushing the morsels around on his plate, with an evident lack of interest.

"It's excellent as usual, Antonio has outdone himself."

"But you are still mad at me."

Giorgio spared him a glance and felt his irritation melting away. The old man only had his best interests at heart and truth be told, he was treated better than most.

He heard stories from his friends about how rigid their upbringing was and even now, they still had to bow to parental authority. His father had never exercised that kind of rigidity over him and for that he was grateful.

"I hate when we are at odds with each other."

Alfredo's eyes twinkled in amusement as he stared at the younger man. "Is that what we are?"

A smile creased his lips as he reached for his wine glass. "My anger has disappeared somewhat over the last few minutes."

"It must be the meal."

"Or the company and the room."

His father's smile faded as he looked around the lovely space as if seeing it for the first time. A melancholy expression touched his face, as memories surfaced. "Your mother had a knack for brightening up a room. When she suggested that this room be redone and remade, I was against it at first."

"Why?"

His father shrugged. "I know her you see. She would get these ideas in her head about taking on a project and would not stop until it was at a point she deemed satisfactory." A smile ghosted his lips. "And in case you have forgotten, your mother was a perfectionist."

Giorgio shook his head. "No need for reminders. She was a stickler and incredibly hard to please."

"When she started on this room, I tried to talk her out of it. I hired workmen behind her back so that she would not have to strain herself."

"She ended up doing most of the work herself," Giorgio mused.

"She would not allow our status to interfere with what she thought a family was supposed to be like."

"I still recall her stories. She had such a musical voice and was so animated that I could hardly wait for the next one."

"She loved you so much." Picking up his wine, Alfredo took a fortifying sip, his mind crowded with happy memories.

"I miss her."

"So do I." Alfredo's stared at his son thoughtfully. "You remind me so much of her. It is not just your looks, but your mannerisms as well. And how stubborn you are and willful."

"If by that you mean I have a difficult time having people dictate to me, then I suppose I am indeed like her."

His father did not return the smile, his face sober and contemplative.

"We had a love that is still living inside me. No other woman can ever measure up and I have stopped trying. I want something like that for you."

Giorgio gave him a surprised look. "Surely you are not expecting such a thing with the woman you have chosen for me. Sofia is a sweet girl, but she is and will never be my type. I want someone who will not agree with everything that pops out of my mouth.

Someone with fire in her belly and of her own opinion. I do not want a lap dog papa, living with someone like her would have me running mad in just a few days."

"If it is left up to you, I will never hold a grandchild in my arms. It is time you settled down son."

"And I will, but right now I want the freedom to enjoy my life before settling down to a life that will be shared with other people. Is that too much to ask?"

*****

Juliana clung to her brother, unashamed of being absorbing his strength, because she had so little of her own. Today was September fifteenth and would have been their dad's birthday. Last year, he was still alive, and they had celebrated the day by coaxing him to dress up so that they could take him to an expensive restaurant.

Little did they know it would be his last birthday. That the so far undetected cancer would ravage his body and quickly take his pride and ability to take care of himself and then his life.

She had agreed to the trip but had insisted on going after today. She had wanted to put some flowers on his grave.

Julian had taken time out from his extremely busy schedule, and they had done everything together. He had accompanied her to the floral shop to pick out red and yellow roses for their mother and daffodils for their dad. She had brought a broom and wash rag with her to clean the glossy tiles and placed the flowers on the graves.

Tears swelled and then poured down her cheeks and she let them. The earth was still fresh where they had laid him to rest, not quite a month ago. The bleak afternoon had deterred most people from visiting or perhaps it was due to it being a workday. Aside from them, there was a couple just a few graves up, clinging to each other.

In a couple of months, the weather would change, and everything would be covered in snow.

"Cold?" Her brother's voice jarred into her thoughts and had her looking up at him.

"A little bit."

"We should go and get something to eat."

"Just a few more minutes, please." She smiled through her tears as memories assailed her. "Remember when he wanted to build a shed?"

Julian chuckled, his hand automatically rubbing up and down her arm to infuse warmth.

"He was never one for manual labor, but it was not for lack of trying. He was determined to build that thing, instead of getting a readymade one at one of those hardware giants."

"He wanted to prove to mom that he was not so useless with tools."

"Only he was." Julian shook his head. "It turned out to be a disaster, with nails sticking out everywhere and pieces of lumber with no apparent shape. It was misshapen and ugly and still mom complimented him on the effort."

"They loved each other."

"They did." Julian's expression was somber as he glanced over to their mother's grave. "I keep trying to find a woman who would measure up to her, but so far, I am batting zero."

Tilting her head to the side, she stared at him. They were fraternal twins, rather than identical. He was tall, topping her by several inches. And he was the better looking of the two. Juliana did not put much stock in her looks and never went out of her way to dress to please anyone.

Her wardrobe was basic and practically colorless and her clothes practical instead of stylish.

She did not believe in spending hours in front of the mirror lathering makeup on, just to spend another hour taking it off before going to bed. She had cut her hair because it was easier to manage and had been told by the stylist that it suited her small face.

"Do you think that's fair?"

He shrugged. "Fair or not, it's how I feel." Wrapping his arms around her, he squeezed gently. "We have each other Jules, I want you to remember that."

"I do." She told him, her voice thickened with tears. "It's just so hard to go on. I keep telling myself that I am going to be fine, but…"

"You are going to be fine," he said firmly, turning her to face him. "You are going through a pretty rough time, but it will pass, and I am here for you and always will be."

*****

Juliana had insisted on spending the last night at her apartment.

"Why?" Her brother had demanded when she told him.

"I want to take advantage of my isolation. Look Julian, I love you to death and you are the best brother a girl could ever have, but you are way too neat and obsessive about putting things in their proper order."

"What the hell is wrong with that?"

"I am the complete opposite, remember?" She retorted wryly. They had stopped at a diner so he could buy them lunch. "I am messy and disorganized and will never make any apologies for being who I am.

And I have some laundry to do. It has been piling up for weeks now and I am fresh out of underwear. Then there is the packing to do, which I positively hate. The place is a mess..."

"Don't worry about the general cleaning up. I will get a service to go in and do it."

She had stared at him for a moment, before clasping his hand between hers. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Only when I am doing you a favor." He grumbled, but she had seen the smile lurking on his lips. "I wanted to spend your last night with you."

"It's not like I am leaving for good. And besides, you are taking me to the airport in the morning. I could still call an Uber."

"No!" He shook his head. "I intend to see you off."

She gave him a suspicious look. "Is it because you are afraid, I won't get on the plane?"

"I trust you completely," he said airily, "and I know for a fact that you would not blow up over a thousand dollars that I spent on your ticket."

She had looked at him aghast. "You shouldn't have."

"I can more than afford it. And who else do I have to splurge on?" He had also insisted on giving her spending money, refusing to take no for an answer.

"I want you to enjoy yourself, empty your mind of everything negative and have a fling."

"I am not going to have a fling."

"I insist. Go to one of those fancy department stores, buy something slinky and close fitting." He looked her over critically. "You could be a beauty, if you'd only make the effort."

"If I have to make the effort then I wasn't a beauty in the first place," she pointed out dryly.

He had then proceeded to itemize her ‘assets' as he called them. "You have gorgeous skin, flawless and smooth. You also have beautiful eyes and pouty lips."

"You do realize that sounds sick coming from you, right?"

He had ignored her. "Go to one of those high-end salons and get a makeover. Get some rich Italian to take you out for dinner and put out for goodness sakes. You have been in how many relationships? Two? Three? And all of them were losers."

"It's two."

"Jules, what's wrong with you?"

"I am not a slut like you!"

"I am highly sexed and enjoy women. You are too buttoned up. I am praying this trip does it for you. I would love to see you happy."

"That's not going to happen anytime soon."

He had backed down after realizing she was close to tears.

Now she was standing in her dismal apartment, saying goodbye. She had no idea what was going to happen when she returned. But she had promised her brother to take the three weeks to get her head on straight.

She was going to an exotic country, ripe with history and the editor in her was dying to explore and be entranced. Propping her hands on her narrow hips, she turned in a tight circle and decided to start with the kitchen.

Julian had promised to send movers as well and packers and he was going to pay for the entire thing. But there were some things she was going to have to take care of herself. But first, a glass of wine, before she did some laundry.

*****

"Are you going to follow me up to the counter as well?"

He had paid for parking and met her in the area where she would be checking in for her flight.

"I might. We are early."

She nodded. "I prebooked already, so I just need to check my bags."

"Two suitcases." His dark brown eyes went to the luggage. All around them, the hustle and bustle of travelers was going on. On their left, a couple were saying their goodbyes with enough intimacy to cause those watching them to avert their eyes.

A mother, hauling her toddler and carrying a car seat rushed past them to get in line. This was not her first international flight, but it felt as if she was leaving everything familiar and stepping into unknown territory.

A sudden feeling of nostalgia swamped her, and she almost told her brother that she had changed her mind. There was this nagging feeling that her life was about to be irrevocably changed. But she knew if she once voiced her concern to him, he would scoff and accuse her of trying to get out of the trip. Perhaps she was being fanciful.

"Thanks for everything," she murmured instead.

"No thanks are necessary." Lifting her chin, he studied her face closely. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I am going to miss you."

"You'll be gone for only three weeks. Stop being so sappy."

"You are a jerk."

"That I am, but you still love me." Bending his head, he brushed his lips against hers. "Now off you go and call me as soon as you land."

"Even if you are tucked up in bed with the flavor of the week?" She asked teasingly.

"I am free of all and any flavor this week." Turning her around, he pointed her to the line. "Safe travel."

By the time she was through with depositing her luggage at the counter, he was still there, waving at her.

Taking a deep breath, she went through the checkpoint and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that something was going to happen.

*****

Alfredo rolled off the woman and went immediately to search for his clothing, which was strewn all over the carpeted floor.

Propping herself up on the mounds of pillows, Viola watched as he slipped into his underwear and then his trousers. She was his best kept secret and when the affair started, she had not minded one bit, but after six months, she was beginning to wonder if this was all she was good for. She had done the unthinkable and fallen in love with him.

Oh, he had leveled with her of course, telling her that there could never be a future between them, and she had told him she understood, and she had at first.

He loved his wife, the woman had been his epic love, but she had been dead for a very long time, and it was frustrating that no matter what she did, it was not working. She wanted to be the second Signora Russo and not just because of the elevation in status. She wanted the man just as badly.

"You are leaving?"

Another thing he had warned her about was that he would not tolerate questions and was not into explaining his movements. He provided for her- she couldn't complain about that aspect of it.

He had set her up in an apartment owned by his company and she had an account at one of his department stores. He would drop by with gifts of jewelry, and she had an account where money was transferred. She lacked nothing, except the love of the man himself.

"Yes." Sitting on the plush loveseat, he dragged on his shoes, before looking over at her. His dark eyes wandered over the lush body that was uncovered to the waist. The stirring of lust was ignored and controlled.

His wife Maria was the only woman who had the power to bring him to his knees. He had been so crazy about her that he had proposed at their first meeting.

"I have a dinner engagement."

"You could always come back tonight."

He shook his head as she knew he would and reached for his flawlessly cut jacket. "That's not going to be possible."

Forcing herself not to appear bereft when he headed for the door, she shoved the sheets off and swung her legs off the bed, intercepting him as he reached the door. Inching her way between him and the doorframe, she pressed herself against his body, arms going around his neck.

"I hate to say goodbye."

Lifting a hand, he brushed back a lock of her glorious red hair gently. "It's not goodbye." Bending his head, he kissed her passionately, before unwrapping her hands from around his neck. "I will see you soon." With that, he was gone.

A frown marred the smoothness of her brow as she stared after him. There must be some way she could get him to change his mind and her status and was going to find a way to work on the details.

*****

To her delighted surprise, her brother had booked a villa for her instead of a hotel. The charming pink stucco building was a welcome change from what she considered to be a soulless entity crowded with people packed in together and not affording any sort of privacy.

The flight, though uneventful had been interminable and left her exhausted and tensed. She had tried to sleep, but after closing her eyes for a few minutes and willing herself to relax, it had been a lost cause.

She had been allocated the window seat, and the seats were comfortable with enough leg room, but her travelling companions consisted of an overweight man crammed into the middle seat and a woman who had fallen asleep as soon as they were airborne, her snores loud enough to wake the dead.

The man had tried to engage her in conversation and after the hints about her not wanting to talk were ignored, she had taken refuge in her kindle. To her relief, he had given up trying and fallen asleep himself.

Now she was here finally. A car had met her at the airport and whisked her away. Calculating the difference in time, she placed a call to her brother.

"You know me so well."

"I take it that you landed safely?"

"And on my way to the villa." Edging forward in the back seat, she stared at the delightful scenery. The driver only spoke a handful of English, and her command of Italian was sadly lacking.

"I thought you would prefer privacy. It does not mean you are going to lock yourself off and not go out exploring. The villa is for sleeping purposes only. Unless of course you take a guy back there to screw his brains out. Then by all means, lock yourself in."

"I am hanging up now."

He chuckled. "Enjoy."

She had every intention of doing that. The smiling driver insisted on helping her with her luggage and carried her cases as far as the doorway of the rustic looking weatherbeaten place that was set way back from the road.

"Grazi." She tipped him generously and had him beaming at her as he made his way back to his vehicle. She was left alone to wander the small but efficient rooms, starting with the beautiful ivory walls and antique furnishings. This place would be hers for the entirety of three weeks. There was even a bicycle in the foyer.

"I am told it's better to tour the countryside while riding instead of driving. More to see and admire that way." Her brother told her. She was exhausted from the long plane ride, and it was already nightfall, with her body grappling with the difference in time. A meal and then bed. But as soon as she had shaken off the jetlag, she was going exploring.