Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Damiano
I'm standing at the window in one of the guest bedrooms when Lorenzo's car pulls up outside. While Violetta continues to sleep in her old room, I don't wish to return to my own.
Despite sleeping in that bed alone for years, I find I'm not comfortable there without her. It would be like pretending everything is normal and it isn't. Until Violetta returns to me it won't be the same again.
I watch as Lorenzo gets out of the car, a surprisingly sensible Audi Q7 that speaks of the change in his character.
Under Lucia's influence, my brother appears to be growing up.
He no longer hits the clubs to flirt with women until dawn, or tears through the city in whatever sports car is flavor of the month.
He spends most of his time at the vineyard now, absorbed in his expansion plans.
Since he did the deal with Violetta's grandfather he's found a renewed focus. He's pouring all of his energy into building a future for himself and the woman by his side.
When he first showed an interest in Lucia I discouraged him, thinking she would bring trouble. I was wrong. She's good for him in the way Violetta was good for me, until she saw what I'm truly capable of.
Lorenzo jogs around the front of the car to the passenger side and helps Lucia out. He says something that makes her slap his chest and they both laugh. He puts his hand at the small of her back as they walk to the door.
I head downstairs to meet them in the hallway.
Lorenzo greets me with a hug, then immediately returns to Lucia's side. I notice then that he's carrying a bottle of wine.
"Welcome to my home, Lucia." It's the first time she's been here and from the widening of her eyes I can tell it's more than she expected. The palazzo does its job of impressing people.
"Thank you for inviting me," she replies. "Your home is incredible."
"Pfft!" Lorenzo snorts. "Give me the views at Casa di Lupo any day."
"They are unbeatable," I concede.
Lorenzo raises his eyebrows. Obviously he was prepared for a lengthy argument about whose home is better. I'm starting to think it's his.
When I bought the palazzo I had a grand idea about my brothers and I living here and raising our families together. I never shared that plan with Violetta and I’m not sure I’ll get the chance now. The dream seems more distant every day and the house feels colder for it somehow.
"Oh, here, our new Brunello." Lorenzo holds the bottle out to me with the quiet pride of a man who has finally discovered his talent. "Don't open it yet. It needs a little time."
I take the bottle and study the label. Under Casa di Lupo is the wolf's head logo and beneath that Lorenzo's name.
"How much time?"
Lorenzo meets my eye. "Drink it on your tenth wedding anniversary."
He's issuing a challenge I'm not sure I can rise to. I don't know whether I'll have a marriage next week, let alone in ten years.
I clear my throat. "Go through to the dining room. I'll have Gianni put this in the cellar."
My brother squeezes my shoulder as he passes, his silent support almost more than I can bear. I stand in the hallway with the bottle in my hand before Gianni appears, as he always does, at precisely the right moment.
"This is for the cellar." I hand him the bottle.
He examines the label and arches an eyebrow. "A Brunello?"
"It will need to mature."
"Of course." He starts to walk away and then turns. "Signora Volante will be down in one moment. Some problem with her dress, apparently."
I go to join my brother and Lucia in the dining room. She's telling him something about the architect she wants to hire to rebuild Gianetta's. It's good to see her so animated. She looks entirely different to the frightened woman I rescued from Adriano Martelli.
The devastation on her face as I sat with her, waiting for Lorenzo to arrive, is something I won't soon forget. I've never experienced a loss like that but it's inevitable I will one day. I’m not sure I’ll handle it with her grace.
"Tell this stubborn woman she can't hire someone fresh out of college," Lorenzo implores me.
"I wouldn't presume to tell Ms. Lazaro anything about the running of her business."
Lucia smiles victoriously.
"Isn't it a little my business when I'm footing the bill?" Lorenzo grumbles.
"Only until the insurance company pays out," Lucia reminds him. "And perhaps you need to remember that profits at your vineyard will increase tenfold when I open my restaurant there."
"Tenfold?" Lorenzo snorts. "I expect at least twenty times the profits when you open at the vineyard."
I smile because they're being ridiculous. The vineyard is already incredibly profitable and while Lucia's restaurant there will bring new customers, it won't make that large a difference to their balance sheet.
Lucia swats him playfully and he snatches up her hand to kiss it. Their ease with each other tugs at something in my chest. It's not jealousy as such, but something I can't name.
Lorenzo nods to the door and I turn as Violetta walks in. She's wearing my favorite shade of green, a dress that skims her curves. Her hair is loose, tumbling over her shoulders. Her lipstick is a vivid red. She looks to me as if she's ready to perform.
In front of my brother and Lucia she'll play the role her position as my wife requires.
"You had trouble with your dress?" I murmur as she comes to my side.
"The zipper stuck. Lina helped me."
I don't point out that I could have helped her with that because she already knows. It would have been easier for her to cross the hall to my room than to summon Lina but she chose not to because she didn't want me to touch her. I shove that thought away for tonight.
"I'm Lorenzo Volante," my brother says, obviously sensing some tension. He steps forward and kisses Violetta's cheeks.
"I know." Violetta laughs. "I've had to scrape you up off the floor at La Stanza Rossa several times."
Lorenzo shoots her a who, me? look and reaches for Lucia. He pulls her forward.
"And this is Lucia."
Violetta greets her warmly. "I hope you'll enjoy dinner tonight. Lina's gone all out but she's a little nervous about cooking for such a highly respected chef."
"Any food is good if someone else cooked it," Lucia assures her.
Lorenzo scoffs. "You didn't say that about my French toast this morning."
"Because you burned it to a crisp." She turns to Violetta. "Honestly, it was like eating a roof tile. Is Damiano's cooking as bad?"
"I have no idea. He hasn't cooked for me yet."
I try not to read too much into that yet. It could mean she's thinking of our future together or it could just be that she's putting on an act for our guests. I choose to believe the former,
"Let's sit, shall we?"
While I take my usual seat at the head of the table, Violetta sits to my right. Lorenzo pulls out the chair to my left for Lucia, surprising me. I'd have thought he would want to sit between me and his woman but he seems content with this arrangement.
Gianni brings in a bottle of wine, a Vermentino. Lorenzo takes it from him and shoos him away.
"Is this from Donatella Scava's vineyard?" he asks as he examines the label. "I've been wanting to try this."
"Difficult to imagine he drank nothing but beer until a couple of years ago, isn't it?" I say wryly. In all honesty I'm impressed by how quickly my brother has learned the ins and outs of the wine business.
Lorenzo pours three glasses and then fills Lucia's with water. Violetta slants her a curious look.
"I'm pregnant," Lucia says. "In case you haven't noticed the swollen boobs and rounded tummy."
"I hadn't. How far along are you?"
"Not long enough to have swollen boobs and a rounded tummy," Lorenzo says. He curves a hand around Lucia's cheek. "I've told you already. You're perfect in every way."
"That's so sweet," Violetta says warmly. "Congratulations to both of you. Are you planning on getting married?"
"After the baby comes." Lucia's tone is decisive, pre-empting any disagreement from Lorenzo, who I know would drag her to the altar tomorrow if he could. "I don't want anyone to think we're marrying to conceal something."
Violetta tilts her head. "Is having a baby outside of marriage such a scandal these days?"
"In certain circles," I reply before Lucia can. "Many of the men we deal with hold traditional views. They care about such things."
"And you?" Violetta looks me in the eye for the first time in days. "Do you care about such things?"
"I find I'm surprisingly adaptable." I hold her gaze.
Getting my meaning, she nods and looks away. I'm giving her leeway many in my position wouldn't. I've arranged an education for her, allowed her to expand her work and I haven't insisted she return to our bed when she clearly doesn't want to. None of that makes me a good man, of course.
Before things can become uncomfortable, Lina serves the first course. Conversation revolves around the sourcing of the best burrata until she comes to clear the plates.
Lucia compliments her on a delicious start to the meal and I swear the older woman almost swoons. She's been around my brothers and me, Elio and Riccardo for more than two decades and this is the first time I've seen her so eager to please.
As the evening wears on, the conversation moves from one safe topic to another, largely because Violetta is so adept at directing the discussion back to our guests whenever they accidentally hit on something uncomfortable.
I spend much of my time watching her as she observes the interaction between my brother and the woman he adores. She sees the same things I do.
They're a couple wholly at ease with one another. Lorenzo tops up Lucia's water whenever she runs low. She passes him the bread before he asks for it. Whenever they disagree on a point, they argue it back and forth until they settle on something they both find satisfactory.
At one point Lucia reaches over and brushes something from his collar without breaking her sentence. There's a natural intimacy between them.
What surprises me is not that it's happened but how quickly they've become attuned to each other. Their relationship isn't much older than mine and Violetta's. The difference isn’t time, it’s what they did with it.
When our dessert of grilled peaches and vanilla gelato is finished, Lucia gets up and hugs Lina, thanking her for the delicious meal.
"Would you like a tour of the house?" Violetta asks.
Lucia's face lights up. "I would love that."
As the two women walk off, apparently best friends already, Lorenzo moves to the seat Lucia vacated. I open another bottle of wine but he waves me off when I try to pour him a glass.
"I'm driving."
"Since when did that stop you?"
"Since I have a pregnant woman to take care of." He narrows his eyes. "It's not like you to drink so much."
"I'm celebrating your happiness."
He fixes me with a stern look. "You're drowning your misery." He sighs as I gulp my wine with a petulance that doesn't suit a man of my standing. "I take it things are no better."
"She's still sleeping in her old room." I set my glass down. "How did Lucia come to terms with this world? After the restaurant? After Martelli?"
"Well, you killed that asshole, so that helped."
When I glare at his flippant answer, he runs his fingers through his already messy hair.
"She didn't come to terms with it. Not really. She accepted me because I stepped back a bit."
"I can't give Violetta that."
"Has she asked you to?"
I shake my head. "She hasn't asked me for anything except space."
"Then give her that." Lorenzo presses his lips together as if deciding whether to say more. "She watches you, fratello. When you're not looking. For what it's worth, she misses you too."
I don't respond but he doesn't expect me to. Deep and meaningful discussions about our emotions isn't something we do.
We talk for a while more, focusing on business, and then head through to the sitting room where Violetta and Lucia are laughing together. Violetta has her legs tucked under her, the pose she adopts when she's relaxed. She tenses slightly when we come in.
Lorenzo sits next to Lucia and puts his arm around her. She leans into him.
Violetta watches them. There's a flash of wistfulness on her face. Is this what she wants from me?
I'm not sure I know how to give it.