An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel (21 page)

Luca’s
slow game is beyond good. His moves hit each note perfectly, and I’m not really
surprised. Afterwards, we dance, eat, drink strong wine—something called
grappa—and laugh at Luca as he gets crowned with the Hat of New Beginnings, the
tradition in his family that establishes the man’s place in the relationship
and blesses him with luck. The hat reminds me of a sombrero, but instead of
bright colors wrapped around a woven basket in the shape of a hat, this one’s a
deep blue and has two doves, one painted red and the other pink, sitting inside
a nest sewed on top.

“I
think it’s time for a picture, handsome cousin of mine,” Gabriela says,
snapping a shot before Luca can protest.

“Hey!
What is this? A blackmail job?” Luca attempts to grab the camera from his
cousin, but she manages to duck out of his grasp.

“Do
not think you’re escaping the humiliation, little Maia,” he says to me as he
places a smaller version of his sombrero on top of my head. He moves several
unruly strands of hair back, tucking them behind my ears and staring into my
eyes as he does so. At some point, but I can’t be sure, this charade has
suddenly started to feel an awful lot like the real deal.

“Kiss!
Kiss! Kiss!” everyone starts chanting. A week or two ago, if I would’ve been
asked to do something like kissing a man in front of a crowd of people I’d
probably have been fighting hives at that point. However, after the orgasm I
experienced last night. I’m way past being ready for another kiss.

Luca
doesn’t disappoint the crowd, either. He crushes his lips against mine and
doesn’t let up for what feels like forever, a very good eternity, but still ...
his family’s watching. The people standing around us get very quiet and I can
almost feel the smiles on the faces of the guests as they all wait for us to
finish. I’m the first one to pull back, my face flaming and my underarms prickly.

“Now
that’s what you call a blackmail picture,” Daniel says to his sister.

We
dance, eat, tell stories about the way Giuseppe met Simona, and then repeat the
entire process. Even Rafe, the brother who takes everything too seriously, gets
caught up in the action by dancing the circle of life, a hop and skip kind of
thing created by the youngest kids at the party, where everyone holds hands and
dances around the new couples in the group. In this case, Luca and I are the
subjects of the love ceremony, which strangely, doesn’t strike me as being odd
or uncomfortable the way seeing a group of adults acting like big kids might
make others feel. It’s totally refreshing. For the first time in my life, I’m
not thinking of problems at all.

And
then Giovanni and his redhead walk through the patio doors. The laughter fades.
Someone turns down the music. Luca tenses, grasping my hand until it hurts, and
he gets locked in a silent eye war with Giovanni.

The
Cruiser strolls through the yard as though he owns the place. Unlike his
brothers, Giovanni has a deadly gleam in his eyes, which are slanted and
highlighted by his thick black eyebrows. He’s just as gorgeous as his brothers,
but in a raw, primal kind of way; and unlike my brother and Nikolai, I know
this man probably sacrifices virgins as well as eats them for dinner. He wears
a red shirt and black slacks. At least he was thoughtful enough to respect
family tradition. Regardless, it’s almost like someone has taken a big black
veil and tossed it over the backyard, silencing the music, blinding the
partygoers and snuffing out everyone’s joy in the process. From what I’ve
experienced the last couple of times we met, the Cruiser seems to have this
kind of effect on the people around him.

“What
madness is this? I’ve missed out on all the fun,” Giovanni says, crossing the
yard to where his mother sits and kissing her straight on the mouth. He turns
his gaze back to Luca. “My baby brother hurts my feelings. I’d no idea you two
had become ... closer.” The tone insinuates more than a brother trying to
congratulate the other one.

“Giovanni,
this is not the place or the time,” Gustavo warns his nephew.

In
return, Gio says, “Of course this is the perfect day. I believe Adriana
deserves to know what she’s buying into with our gorgeous family. Especially my
beloved brother.”

His
gaze slides to me, and I can tell by the look in his eyes the words that are about
to leave his lips won’t be good ones. “We have shared every girl in the past.
Did he tell you this? How my girlfriends would always wind up in his bed and
vice versa?” He reaches behind him and pulls the redhead standing behind him
forward. “But I have fixed all that. I’ve got a solid strategy in place. One
that is immune to the charms of my little brother’s cock.”

“Mi Dio, Giovanni,” Gustavo exclaims, standing.
“Have you no respect for your mother?”

“Agreed,”
Rafe finally says in a flat voice. This makes the first time he has spoken out
against his other brother, and I can tell Giovanni doesn’t like it by the way
his face changes from primal, but fun-loving, to insane and angry in less than
a second.

“You
take up for his actions now?” Gio asks Rafe. “He’s being a screw up, yet
again.” He motions toward me without actually looking at my face.

Rafe
sighs loudly, blinking a few times before he answers, “Luca’s a big boy.
Nevertheless, this day is for Mama.” A few voices make sounds in agreement
after that statement. I glance at Simona. She has now taken a seat at the table
filled with food. However, I don’t think anyone will want to eat anytime soon.
Her face is so pale. The slightest bit of dread starts to creep up inside me
and suddenly, I think I know exactly where this argument is going.

“You
might as well kiss your business good-bye. One thing I can definitely give him
credit for is being able to pick a classy piece of ass to screw around with,”
Giovanni says.

“Why
can’t you let things go? The past is the past. An anchor weighing you down,”
Luca growls, his hand flying out of mine. I take a step back. He becomes
animated when he gets angry and I don’t want to come between an Italian man and
the object of his temper. “You were a selfish bastard for leaving Italy when
you knew Mama needed us most. Now you come back here and throw old shit in my
face.”

“And
you are
stupido
for showing your face at the Piccolo! We lost Marcello’s
support. No more serum, Mama. I am sorry. It will take at least a week to import
the new batch. And it is his fault. Your favorite.”

“We
have enough money to buy our own serum,” Rafe says. “Contracts with Proctor
& Gamble are coming through. We should have plenty—”

“And
how long will that take? Days, weeks, months?” Giovanni asks. Rafe keeps
silent, a defeated look dampening his strong features. “As I thought. Satisfied
now?” he shouts at Luca.

“Enough,
boys!” Gustavo roars.

“Satisfied?
You think I like watching Mama be in pain? Her cancer will spread much faster
without it. The fucking nerve you have for blaming me!” Luca shouts back, but I
don’t hear anything else except the words cancer and spreading. I gasp loud
enough for everyone to turn toward me. Luca’s face goes pale, and even Giovanni
looks shocked and concerned. This makes the first time any of them have come
right out and said anything about what has been going on behind my back. And
now that I know, I think the weight of the words I just heard will kill me.

 “With
Mary’s forgiveness, I’d flog the lot of you if this wasn’t a party to celebrate
love,” Simona says to her sons. “Adriana ...”

“Is
it true? You have cancer?” I ask in a tiny voice as the area around me grows
smaller by the second. I don’t get a verbal answer. Don’t really need one. The
silence starts to choke me. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Before my weakening
knees give out, I turn and head toward the door leading back into the house.
Luca catches up to me in a few strides.

“Adriana,
please.” He grabs my arm, his eyes pleading. “I promised Mama I wouldn’t say
anything for now.”

“Right.
I need some air. Please don’t follow me.” Turning, I head out the front door
and wait outside in our taxi until Luca comes out the door about fifteen
minutes later.

“Could
you please take me back to the hotel now?” I ask, keeping my eyes focused on my
hands. He opens his mouth to speak. “Don’t say anything else. Please. I just
want to go home.”

“Of
course. Anything you need,” he answers, but I can tell he wants to say
something else. I guess the look on my face gives him a pretty good indication
of what will happen if he does because he releases a sigh, curses under his
breath, and props his head over on his hand as the driver pulls away.

We
ride back to the Baglioni in silence. Luca has been studying my profile ever
since we left the party. Inside the room, he breaks his quiet spell. “Don’t
shut me out, Adriana. Not now,” his voice pleads. I do look at him this time,
and right away, I regret it. Pain storms inside his wonderful eyes, killing the
light I’m used to seeing inside them. This hurts him much more than he’s been
letting on.

Honestly,
I don’t know how he has managed to hold all this inside him. I know what his
mother means to him. It’s easy because she means a great deal to me as well. He
takes my hands in his, and even that small touch is enough to soften my resolve
to be a hardass. His caress jump starts my heart, which I think stopped beating
for a while when they all silently confirmed my fears.

“I’m
already on the outside, Luca. You put me there by keeping this from me. Guess
that’s what I get for being naïve.” I ease my hands out of his grip, head into
our bedroom, and shut the door. The tears want to come so badly it hurts. I
can’t let them, though, because I probably won’t be able to stop them. For now,
I embrace the numbness.

Adriana

As
soon as I change into a pair of black capris and a beige T-shirt, I secure my
hair up in a bun, making sure to pull my bangs down over my eyes, and head out
into the living room. Luca’s gone. A small pang of guilt hits me when I think
of the way he looked at me earlier tonight.

Sighing
deeply, I leave our room and head out to the balcony at the back of the
Baglioni, a section that’s so close to the Grand Canal that I can put my feet
inside the water. I found my new thinking spot by accident one day. Sitting
down on the side, I plunge my feet into the water, the iciness of the canal
chilling my ankles, a no-no for a ballerina. I don’t care. Anything to help me
stay numb is a welcome distraction.

Closing
my eyes, I listen to gondoliers shouting in the distance, people riding along
the alleyways in water taxis, music from a party somewhere close to the
hotel—the sounds of Venice preparing to shift into evening mode on a Friday
night. The bells on the door behind me jingle; someone has found my hiding spot.
I smell her telltale fragrance of vanilla and cinnamon before she even says a
word.

“Beautiful
back here, isn’t it?” Simona asks as she sits right beside me. My muscles tense
up and my mind gets ripped back to reality.

 She
removes her shoes and eases her feet into the water, too. A slight shiver goes
through her body, and now that I know how sick she really is, I can’t help but
to be concerned about what she’s doing. “I love this part of the building, as
well.”

“It’s
peaceful,” I say, my voice groggy and tired. A few silent moments pass. “You’re
not coming back to Tuscany with us, are you?” I ask, that damn knot welling up
inside my throat. Simona doesn’t answer. She only gives me that sad smile of
hers, a ghost of the vibrant woman we left behind. It’s almost as though
hearing her sons speak her secret out loud has destroyed some of the liveliness
I saw in her the day we first met at Black Butterfly.

“I
have been battling a rare type of cancer that starts in your breast. Left
untreated, it spreads. With Mary’s help, I beat the sneaky little creature the
first time three years ago. As soon as I dared to believe that life maybe
wasn’t so very cruel, the cancer returned. Only this time it came back with
vengeance, spreading quickly and attacking my liver. Please do not be mad at
Luciano. My son needs you so very much now. Probably even more than he
realizes. All of my sons need your strength. Because in you, I see the essence
of myself. Luciano was only doing as I instructed in keeping my secret. I do
not want to be remembered as the woman who was the mistress of death in her
last days. I want my loved ones to have happy feelings when thinking of me. I
prefer to see this as a new beginning. Is that too much to ask?”

Second
most underrated question of the decade. This is killing me, making me feel
weak, kind of like I just woke up to find out I’ve caught the flu. This pain
comes complete with body and chest aches; I think I’ll just lie down and sleep
until the sickness passes. I can’t be happy. Yet another person I care about
will be taken from me. Sure, I’ve only known her for a couple of weeks, but
Simona’s the type of person with a soul that feeds the goodness of those around
her until you find yourself wondering if you’ve known her all along. Closing my
eyes, I allow the black waters of the canal to freeze my feet. It’s unusually
cold for this to be a summer day in July.

“Simona,
you’ve become like a mother to me. My own mother isn’t a very kind person. She
thinks ruling over her children is the same thing as loving them.” My nose
stings and the damn tears are pooling in my eyes despite my efforts to fend
them off. “What will I do now?”

I
open my eyes and dare to peek at her face. Tears line her eyes. I can no longer
hold back my own. Pulling me into her arms, she says, “You will live, Adriana
Dostovsky. And you will never forget who you are, ever again.” We hold onto
each other until the darkness forces us to go inside and wipe away our tears.