Chapter 23
“Son, will you be coming to lunch tomorrow?”
I motion for Elodie to wait and step away to speak with my mother. “Not this Sunday, Mamma.”
“Tommaso told me you broke up with Capria.”
“We never had anything serious to begin with.”
“That’s not what she thought.”
“I can’t be held responsible for other people’s expectations, signora.”
“I could be a good person and say that the two of you will eventually work things out after all these years of back and forth, but I’d rather just be myself. I never liked that little viper. So, my prayers have been answered.”
“You never told me you disliked her that much.”
“I try not to interfere in your lives. I know each one of my children, and I want to believe I raised you well, including giving you the judgment to tell what’s a trap and what isn’t. And that one, without a doubt, is.”
“Thanks for the belated advice.”
She huffs. “As if you’d have listened if I’d said it before. If there’s one thing to be said about the Andresanos, it’s that we’re as stubborn as mules.”
“Either way, you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you coming tomorrow?”
I count silently to ten.
Welcome to the world of Italian mothers who don’t understand the meaning of the word privacy.
“Because I already have plans.”
“A new girlfriend?”
I glance at Elodie at the other end of the hallway.
Girlfriend?
How can I call her that when she sometimes still refers to herself as a captive?
“I don’t have a label for it yet. Now, I have to go. We’re heading out to dinner.”
“She’s at your villa?”
Mamma knows I don’t bring women here. I usually stay at my apartment in Florence if I plan to spend the night with a lover.
“Yes, she’s here.”
“Then it’s serious.”
“Good night, Mamma. I’ll see you next week.”
“I want to meet her.”
“No.”
“‘Not yet’ no, or ‘never’ no?”
“Mamma. . .”
“All right. Tell your friend I said hello. One last question: is she Italian?”
“No, she’s American.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Arrivederci, Greta.”
I hang up and walk back toward the goddess waiting for me, who at the moment is pretending to be distracted by a painting.
“That was my mother.”
“I figured,” she says, surprising me by admitting she’d been listening. “I asked the staff to teach me a few basic words in Italian, so now I know that ‘mamma’ means ‘mother.’”
“Say my name.”
“What?”
“The way you said ‘mamma’ was sexy as hell. You only ever call me Gianni by accident. I want to hear you say it on purpose.”
Her lips curl into a barely there smile. “Is this some kind of erotic fantasy?”
“It wasn’t until now, but it could be.”
I lean down and bite her earlobe.
“Say my name, Elodie.”
I run my tongue over the spot I just nipped, and when she does as I ask, it comes out as a moan.
My cock thickens, straining against my pants, and I know we need to get out of here before I forget all about dinner.
“Let’s go, Elodie. I promised you a night out, and I intend to keep that promise.”
“I loved the earrings, too,” she says, touching the chandelier-shaped piece adorned with diamonds that I had sent to her along with the new wardrobe.
“They look beautiful on you.”
She sets her silverware down. “You’re not eating. You’ve spent the entire dinner just watching me.”
I reserved one of the private dining rooms at the restaurant I’d promised to bring her to. I’ve never been here with a girlfriend, but I celebrated my sister Donatella’s birthday here once, and she loved it.
In a way, the two of them share similar temperaments. Both are passionate about life, so I figured this place would be perfect for Elodie, too.
I knew I’d been right when I saw how captivated she was the moment we arrived. When the waiter guided us to a table by the window, giving us a perfect view of Tuscany at dusk, she stayed silent for a long time, just gazing outside.
When she finally turned to face me, her eyes were shining.
Donatella’s joy over every little thing never surprises me. She’s always had every reason to grow into a happy young woman, and she’s determined to live life to the fullest.
But seeing Elodie smile after everything she’s been through fascinates me. Her inner strength is astounding.
“I always choose to focus my attention on the most beautiful thing around me,” I finally answer. “I’m a connoisseur of beauty, Elodie.”
She shakes her head slowly. “Why are you so determined to seduce me, Gianni?”
“Why not? I’m attracted to you, and I know you feel the same. We’re free. There’s nothing standing in our way.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, sir,” the waiter says, “but the dance show is about to start. If you’d like to watch it, I can have your dessert served there.”
“Dance show?” she asks, raising a brow.
“I think you’ll enjoy it.”
I barely finish speaking before she’s already on her feet.
“I’m sure I will.”
“My God, do they dance like that every day?” she asks, coming back to me after accepting the women’s invitation to join them in learning the saltarello, a traditional dance from my country that’s said to have originated here in Tuscany.
“No, I think only on weekends.”
I stand to pull out her chair so she can sit again.
“I had so much fun. Don’t you know how to dance?”
“I do,” I say, “but here in Tuscany, unlike other places, that dance is done in threes. I preferred to just watch. I’m not good at sharing.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes at me, deservedly so. “There were three women dancing. That would’ve been two of us and you.”
“Even so,” I reply.
At first, I was joking, because as my brother reminded me, during the times I wasn’t seeing Capria exclusively, I never cared if she was with other people.
But the thought of being in an open relationship with Elodie leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Ready to go?”
“I am. Thank you for tonight.”
“It’s not over yet.”