CHAPTER NINETEEN
W e finally reached the Marini villa in Florence. I followed Rocco as he introduced me to staff who mostly spoke English. He told me the tour was to help me acquaint myself with the house so I wouldn’t get lost. However, it gave us a chance to stay together instead of separating. He’d been supportive at Pisa without demanding answers, and I was grateful for that. Honestly, I hoped this extra time would give us a chance to start over.
The living room was grand, with stone sculptures and ceilings with Romanesque-framed images. My hands traced the curved antique couches and the stone fireplaces in most rooms.
“Have you come up with ideas for your next painting?” he asked.
I didn’t want to show him the paintings I’d been working on until I had finished them. “Just sketches so far.”
“We’ll make sure you have a studio here. I think the empty bird sanctuary would work. Just tell Isla what you need.”
I waved my hand. “I’m not a professional.”
“You’re modest, Adelina.”
I peered at him through my lashes. “How do you know?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I peeked. You auctioned off some at your college fundraiser. It’s still online.”
My mouth dropped open, and I laughed. He searched me .
“I’m serious. Painting makes you happy, I want more of it.”
A flutter went through my stomach. The mere mention of anything I desired to Rocco, and he made it happen. It was astonishing.
Some of the oil paintings were portraits of a couple. The man pictured had the same facial features as the Marini men. “Do you all sit for an artist?”
“It’s traditional to do so after the wedding ceremony. We will sit for one, too,” Rocco said, lightly touching my back to guide me forward.
We next went to a study, featuring a ladder, two levels, and walls of leather-bound books in cases that made up the home’s library. “Grandpa maintained most of these works.”
“Yeah, he always recommended books to me over the years,” I murmured.
“Take as many as you like,” he offered.
I picked out a cozy mystery, then followed him through the formal dining room that had a tiered crystal chandelier and fresco-painted ceilings. The room could easily seat twelve.
We continued on the tour through the contemporary features of the estate. There was actually a cinema with seats and a screen for movies. It was pristine.
“Does anyone ever use it?” I joked.
“Yeah, a few times. Grandpa prefers to read, and he got it for us grandkids. But we rarely come to this house.”
I plopped down on one of the reclining seats and pushed the side to recline. “Such a shame.”
Rocco chuckled. “It is. I’ll make a point of getting a movie for us to watch.”
I climbed up and continued on the tour to the sauna and indoor pool enclosed by glass and tile.
“I had them prepare this for me. I like to swim laps in the morning,” he bent down and touched the water. On the side of the exit was another stone stairwell. This one went to the cellar with rows of wine.
“You don’t drink, right?,” he said, and I nodded. But he did, so he took a bottle with him back upstairs. We passed along a corridor with bedrooms ready-made for visitors. Then we returned to the East wing, ending at a huge primary room.
“This is where you’ll stay,” Rocco announced.
It had a king-sized, four-poster canopy bed with chocolate oak pillars and embroidered curtains. Above the fireplace was a portrait of the same beautiful woman I’d seen in the painting of the couple.
His expression turned wistful. “That’s my late grandma, Aurora. This was her room.”
“They had separate rooms?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Grandma snored.”
I laughed.
“But let me show you why she loved it.”
I followed him as he opened two double wooden doors to a stone balcony. The entire city of Florence was in view and I gulped, clasping my hands to my chest. I could see the cathedral domes and spiraling bell towers, bridges, rooftops, and surrounding hills of green vineyards of olives, grapes, fruit, and cypress trees. All the monuments and winding hedges were there—the ancient married with the current.
A warm gust of wind blew my hair back, and I ran my hands down my arms.
Rocco came behind me, and without a word, he hugged me, bringing more heat to my skin and a shiver ran through my body. I leaned back, inviting him to stay longer, and he drew me closer, resting his chin on my head.
“Grandpa was sure you’d love this house. He calls it his magic place.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“It’s where my grandmother and him had spent the early days of their marriage. They fell in love here.” He dropped his arms, and moved toward the room. His brief embrace left my pulse racing. It had felt natural this time. “Are you feeling jet-lagged?”
I lifted one shoulder. “A little tired, but what will you do?”
“I have work,” he said.
“I don’t have any.” I shrugged.
“Well that can change. See what you want to do.”
My heart lifted. “Really?”
“Why not?” he said. “I’ve gone from corporate CEO of our business ventures firm, investing in tech start-up companies to producing movies and documentaries. My latest took me on trips around the world.”
“Glenn mentioned an international cuisine show? Like Anthony Bourdain? I always loved his shows and travels,” I enthused.
“I was an admirer of his, too,” he admitted. “I’ve also branched out to brand ambassador for clothing and cologne lines. I do philanthropy to give back.”
“The World is Your Family project,” I added.
He nodded. “I’m still looking for more to do. If I can do all that, so can you.”
He’d managed to successfully change careers; his enthusiasm and assuredness was inspiring. But for me? My family always told me babies were my future. I even feared the possibility of wanting something I could never have. But that could change?
I touched my throat. “Gosh, wow. I don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with something you’re passionate about,” he suggested.
I grinned. “Passion again?”
“Always passion, Adelina,” he mused. “But seriously. What do you love? Say it without thinking.”
“I love to paint and create things I read?” I told him.
“Then you’ll do it,” Rocco said with sureness. “I know you were upset about the call, but I did it for us to have a chance. I’m willing to put in the work, but I need you to be willing to do so, too.”
He wasn’t asking for something out of line. A marriage would take a partnership to work. Mama tried with my father, but he never did his part. I would have to put in effort to make it work, and I vowed to try.
I bobbed my head. “Okay, Rocco.”
“Good. Now when you approach your interests, don’t think of it as impossible. Think about it as something you will do soon.” His words were wise, and I imbibed them.
Over the week, I walked the hollow halls, pulled down books to read with an espresso, or took long evening walks through the grounds. I caught up with Cassidy and her work in L.A. She was considering deferring law school for a longer break. We had both had gone from boarding school to college without taking time off. It was only natural to want time to live instead of study.
My major in global studies and minor in modern languages was for diplomatic work in the political sphere with my potential husband. That was what I’d told my family. However, there were still other dreams.
I wanted to study painting in Paris and Italy. Or take a chance at a career as an illustrator, like I’d done for the Bumble Bee Ball book. It was how I’d survived those years when I was with my parents. I’d chalk a sidewalk or draw on a desk. Sometimes, I’d made friends along the way and even helped spray paint a mural on the back of a building. Those worlds allowed me to express my feelings when I was hopeless. With the money I’d have as Rocco’s wife, I could be that beacon for other kids like me. But how would we incorporate it together? What about having children? He didn’t seem ready, but I still had to fulfill my family legacy. With Rocco, there was a chance at more. Could I really do them all?
Rocco would still kiss me before he left for work in town, and just those brief encounters made my day. It would linger on my lips, and I found myself waiting for that kiss now. And my hands that always gripped his waist were slower to let go.
The small conservatory at the back of the property, once used for birds and rare plants, became my personal haven. This Victorian-style structure, mainly constructed from iron and glass, was a treasure. Despite its mostly empty state, the few old cages and several patio chairs inside transformed it into my favorite room and a new private painting studio. A trip to the art supply shop in town with Isla resulted in the acquisition of drawing boards, easels, lighting, projectors, and paints, all under Rocco’s guidance. I was careful to only get what I needed, but I couldn’t help but be thrilled at the lengths he was willing to treat me.
My first project was inspired by the memorable dinner at Paul and Nadia’s. I’d been captivated by the impromptu band and the feeling of soaring, which I wanted to recapture in my art. I painted clouds, used photos to draw Paul, and made him a puppeteer, God in the clouds playing his piano, who moved a group of marionettes to play instruments falling in the sky. My color palette was bold and vibrant, like the art at Pisa. And with the dome shape of the roof that came out with much light, I made good progress, working even at night when the sky filled with stars.
I’d been absorbed in my painting one evening, with the day almost gone when my phone rang. It was Cassidy, who I missed dearly so I immediately answered.
“There you are, Gorgeous,” she said jovially.
“Here I am, Gorgeous,” I answered back. “What’s up?”
“Spoke to Nadia Crane about my maid of honor gown for the wedding,” she said. “I mean I expected a call from an assistant, but it was Nadia herself.”
“Oh, yeah? How did it go?” I asked and put my paintbrush in water.
“I have no idea. I died, and she talked to my ghost. Whatever I said, I have an appointment at Givenchy California when we get back.”
I chuckled and pushed my hair over my shoulders and saw I had a few paint splatters in it. “Nadia’s great. So, wait where are you now?”
“In Palm Springs,” she said. “Mom needed a vacation from our vacation. You know me, I don’t mind, I like all the pampering, and shopping. Oh, and I also went to a concert.”
“To see who?” I asked.
“Dynamic Dreamers,” she giggled.
I chuckled. “Get out. No way.”
Dynamic Dreamers had been our favorite boy band as teens. We’d even done a video dancing like them. She broke out into song, and I doubled over laughing.
When we both recovered, Cassidy asked. “Soo, how’s Rocco? Gah. I can’t believe you’re with him. It must be so weird.”
I twirled my hair around my finger. “He’s very nice.”
She scoffed. “Ha. So is my dad. You’re being very vague, lady.”
I stared down at my sandals. “I know. He’s been unbelievable. Heck, he’s spoiling me. I just don’t want to get caught up in it all.”
“You’re marrying him. You can’t get caught up anymore if you try,” she pointed out.
“I know, I know. But….” My voice trailed off and I sighed.
“What’s bothering you? Spill it. Doctor Cosgrove is in the building.” Cassidy joked, but I knew she was serious.
“Marjorie Storm,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Rocco was dating her before we became engaged. Like they only broke up two weeks before we got together. He said it’s over, but he was kinda touchy about it. So there must be feelings there? Right?”
“Well, hmmm. From what I do know, they were dating for about six months. That’s long for Hollywood, but she spent a few of them filming “Tamed Heart” in New Zealand. And he was also abroad for a spell. So maybe the relationship ran its course? He’s marrying you, not her.”
I loved that Cassidy could find out all that information about Rocco, but it also made me feel uneasy knowing people could know your comings and goings from just a few clicks.
I blew out my breath. “Okay. Thanks, Cass.”
“Anytime, gorgeous. Before I forget, let me send you some photos,” she said with a lift to her tone.
“Cool,” I said and logged onto my email on my laptop. A few seconds later, her email arrived with a few images. They were from our announcement party. The first one was of Rocco and me slow-dancing at the engagement party.
“I kept my favorite ones. You two look like movie stars together. They quoted Rocco as saying he’s known you since you were a teen. Is that true?”
“Sort of. Uhm, we met once, but it was so brief,” I said, looking at the photos again. There were a few of the family at the table. Mama’s not smiling.
“Did any of the paint make it to the canvas?” My eyes went to the door, just as Rocco walked into the sanctuary wearing one of his impeccable suits. My stomach fluttered. He was so incredibly hot. Whew. He walked towards me and my pulse sped up.
I laughed. “Most of it.”
“Oh, he sounds sexy,” Cassidy joked.
“I agree, but I have to go.”
“Hey, wait. You didn’t even tell me if he is a good kisser? One to ten?”
I turned away from Rocco. “A million.”
“No way. I hate you, but I love you,” she said, laughing.
“Call you later, Gorgeous?” I said.
“You better, Lina.” We ended the call.
When I turned around, Rocco was over by my painting.
I wanted to cover it up because it wasn’t finished, but he had surprised me. He stood back, studying it, and my heart hammered.
“It’s a work in progress,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip.
“I’m…speechless,” he said.
I scrunched up my face. “Is that a good thing?”
“Yes. Oh, my God, yes,” he said. “I want to show it to Paul. Is that okay?”
I shook my head briskly. “It’s not good enough.”
He frowned. “Why would you say that? It’s amazing.”
I glanced away. “Maybe one day. Did we have somewhere to go?”
He hesitated, but went ahead with my change in subject. “Yeah, to dinner, and then tomorrow we have a special engagement to attend. Are you hungry?” He touched my hair and lifted the strands. A small smile on his lips as he eyed the paint splatters.
“It comes out,” I mumbled and chewed my lip.
“Is that so?” He teased, his smile broadening. He took my hand. “Let’s have dinner.”
I left him and took a shower, then joined him at the dinner table. Tonight he had a list of things to do for the wedding. I put down my fork between bites of swordfish. “Who will be your groomsman?”
“I had to choose my brother, Salvatore, or all my friends would be offended.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
He had been so loving to his family and friends who stopped by. A part of the Italian lifestyle I’d learned so far included family visits, often with meals that would last well into the night. When they came, I sat beside him and listened as they chatted in Italian. Sometimes, I could follow, but they’d often switch to English for me. I’d never experienced a family that went out of their way to include me. I say I love a dish, and boom, it’s there every day . His staff was spoiling me, too, and it all brought on a deep longing for a nurturing family environment, a feeling that I had been missing.
I didn’t remember when we all sat together, even on Christmas. My family dinners with Mama and Judge Colby were always tense. My father would act like a pompous king, and Mama and I as his lowly subjects, would rush around to meet his every need so he wouldn’t hurt us or destroy the meal. I’d been no better. My hatred for him had me taunting him to push him to leave.
Once away from them, Mama and my grandparents did separate holidays. Mama went to Glenn’s parents most of the time. We mainly ate in silence at my grandparents’ house. It was refreshing when I’d go out with Cassidy and her parents at school. But here, they enjoyed each other’s company. They expressed their love for each other. It filled me with a longing and a hope for the same one day. But could it happen with Rocco and the family we’d have together? Or was I getting carried away?