Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Gabriele
The last time someone gave me a balloon I was about six years old. My mother bought it from a man at the gates of the Villa Borghese. I remember it vividly, a white balloon with a red elephant on it. They were promoting a circus, or something like that.
I was so pleased when she handed it to me because my brothers didn't get one.
Damiano had proclaimed himself too old for balloons at the grand old age of eight. Lorenzo wasn't allowed one because he'd been a pain in the ass all morning, refusing to wear his seatbelt in the car and then deliberately smashing a mirror in the boutique where my mother was trying to buy a dress.
Any other family of our stature would have employed a nanny, but my father wouldn't allow a stranger in the house. He felt it was my mother's job to raise his sons.
I would have said it was up to him to protect his family, but it didn't stop him employing armed guards to do the job. Of course, hypocrisy was the least of his sins.
The balloons Katya has filled my office with are various shades of blue with a few silver ones strategically placed among them. I know without counting that there are thirty of them.
My wife is committed to perfection. I see it in the way she dresses, the attention she pays to her hair and makeup. A woman like her would never be so sloppy as to provide twenty-nine balloons on this auspicious occasion.
As I stand at the doorway, taking it all in, Lukas appears at my shoulder.
"Does this remind you of your father?" he asks.
I turn to meet his look of concern. "What?"
"You know. The night he burst your balloon."
That was the part of that day I was trying not to remember. When we got home, my father yelled at my mother for encouraging such childishness. His sons were to be warriors, not weaklings.
Mamma took every cruel word he threw at her with her usual quiet dignity then screamed when my father backhanded me for crying. He beat her senseless that night. I need to take a breath.
"You remember that?" I ask.
"How could I forget?" He moves past me, into the room, and studies the balloons with that carefully neutral expression of his. "It was the night I realized my best friend's father was a monster."
I say nothing. Maurizio Volante got what he deserved more than a decade ago when my older brother killed him. My mother lived on, dying peacefully in the home she loved last year.
"I went home that night and told my father," Lukas says. "I asked him to do something about it." He purses his lips. "He refused."
I shrug. "What could he do against the boss?"
"Nothing. I know that now." Lukas scrubs a hand over his face. "At the time I thought he was a coward. I told him as much. Now I know better."
"Your father's a good man. If he could have helped, he would."
Lukas nods. "Yeah, I know that now."
I reach out and take hold of a silver string hanging from one of the balloons, pulling it down to my level and batting it away with my hand. It drifts back toward me and I do it again.
There's something oddly satisfying about the way it bounces off my palm. I almost laugh as I imagine what my men would say if they saw me playing with a balloon. It would probably shatter my Beast of Rome persona.
"Your mother would have loved Katya," Lukas says quietly.
Yes, she would. Mamma was drawn to a certain type of energy in people. Katya possesses an abundance of it, an indomitable spirit. Nothing fazes her for long.
I clear my throat.
"Where is my wife?"
"Dining room." Lukas shoots me a look of reproach I've done nothing to earn. "Don't be mad at her for this. She was trying to be nice. She doesn't know balloons hold negative connotations for you."
"They don't," I tell him. "And even if they did I wouldn't take it out on Katya. What sort of asshole do you take me for?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You want me to answer that?"
"No."
Leaving him with the balloons, I go to find my wife. When I get to the dining room, I discover it's received the same treatment as my study.
There are more balloons and a banner strung on the wall between the windows wishing me a Happy Birthday. The table is set for two. There's a basket of pastries with my favorite Danishes and a jug of apple juice. Maria must have shared my preferences with Katya.
At the center of the table sits an arrangement of pink peonies. It's not lost on me that they're the exact same shade as the ones I gave her as her wedding bouquet.
Lukas hasn't stopped teasing me about that. How was I to know she was supposed to hold them as she walked down the aisle?
"Happy Birthday!" Katya opens her arms wide as if to hug me, then thinks better of it, letting them drop to her sides. I find myself wishing she hadn't reconsidered.
She ushers me to the head of the table, bristling with excitement. Before I've even settled into my seat, she reaches under the table to produce a basket tied with a big blue bow.
At some point I'll tell her I like other colors too but for now, I'll enjoy the effort she's putting into meeting my preferences.
Inside the basket are several carefully wrapped packages. I'm not used to being spoiled like this. My brothers and I don't usually exchange gifts but since this is a significant birthday, Lorenzo sent me a case of wine and I got a platinum watch from Damiano.
The card that came with it wasn't in his writing and the all our love sentiment didn't sound like him. I suspect his wife, Violetta, took charge.
I've only met my sister-in-law once but her kindness during that brief encounter has left an impression.
"Well, open them," Katya says impatiently.
As I reach for the first package, she bites her bottom lip, watching me with a nervousness she can't conceal.
Whatever is in the basket, she cares what I think of it. I'm aware of that as I unwrap the first gift. It takes me a moment to figure out what it is.
A sleep mask but not an ordinary one. This is a thick band of gray fabric with some sort of control panel on the side of it.
"It plays sounds," she says. "Waves, rainfall, whale noises, whatever helps you relax. There's also a massage function but I wasn't sure if you'd be able to use that with…." She gestures toward her own eye.
"It should be fine." I turn it over in my hands, examining it more closely. "Thank you."
The second package reveals a small jar of cream.
"I noticed the skin around your eye gets irritated," she says. "It's a very gentle cream. It has aloe vera in it."
I glance at her across the table. "Have you been talking to Lukas?"
"About eye cream?" She looks confused. "No."
I set the jar down and open the next package. It's a small red rubber cube.
"For stress," she explains. "You squeeze it. Apparently it helps when you feel….." She pauses to consider her words. "It helps you focus."
When I open the fourth gift I find a pair of black and white enamel cufflinks. Yin and yang.
"These symbolize us?" I ask drily.
"Well, I couldn't find grumpy sunshine ones."
I frown at that. "Grumpy sunshine?"
"It's a romance trope." She waves a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you don't read a lot of romance."
"I confess I do not."
"Well that explains everything." She grins and then her expression sobers. "Anyway, these are just a few…. I know they're silly."
Her voice catches. I reach across to place my hand over hers.
"They're not silly."
She looks down at where my hand rests on top of hers and then back up at me. "I just wanted to…" She purses her lips. "I just wanted to show you that…" She bats a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "I don't know what I wanted. They're stupid."
"These gifts are not stupid." I squeeze her hand. "They're the best gifts anyone has ever given me."
The items in themselves are small things but together they mean a lot. She put considerable thought into these presents.
I'm not sure when someone last did that for me. My mother when I was young, probably. She used to agonize over what to buy for us.
Katya blows out a breath, composing herself.
"The best gifts anyone has ever given you?"
There's my girl, back to her breezy self and fishing for compliments.
I bring her hand to my scarred mouth and kiss it. She doesn't flinch.
"The best," I confirm.
"Oh. In that case I should send the Aston Martin back."
My eye widens. "The what?"
"Your main gift." She's smiling with the smugness of a woman who knows she's caught me off guard. "It's in the garage."
"How did you manage to get an Aston Martin onto the property without me knowing about it?"
The balloons and other gifts I can understand. Though my men have been screening all incoming deliveries, they haven't reported every little purchase Katya has made. The way my wife shops it would become their full-time job if they tried to.
But an Aston Martin isn't exactly small.
"Your men are entirely too susceptible to bribery," Katya says. Then, as if she realizes her words might trigger a security review and unpleasant consequences for my men, she adds quickly, "Lukas helped me organize it. I just gave some of the men a thank you for helping arrange things."
"What sort of a thank you?"
"Scotch." She shoots me an apologetic look. "A twenty-five year old Bowmore single malt. Are you mad at me?"
I shake my head.
"Are you mad at them for helping me?"
"Of course not. My men know the difference between a wife arranging a birthday surprise and someone plotting to blow the place up."
Katya stares at me for a moment longer, as if checking I'm really not angry. Then she smiles. "So, do you want to go see the new car?"
"Yes, I do."
As I get up and follow her through the house, I smile at the way she skips ahead of me. She greets everyone warmly as we pass through the kitchen and hurries into the garage ahead of me.
"Ta-da!" She flings her arms wide as she presents the car to me.
Even a prestige sports car hasn't escaped the indignity of being covered in balloons. She has them attached to the wing mirrors and door handles.
"Do you like it?" she asks, coming to stand by my side.
"I love it." The car is a DBS 770 in a vibrant blue that I know is a custom color.
"Happy birthday, Gabriele."
Katya pushes onto her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.
I admire the car for a moment. It's the sort of gift a woman might buy her wealthy husband but the gifts I left on the dining table are what a woman buys for her man.
Those are the ones that are precious to me.
They symbolize all that's good about Katya.
She has a materialist side, that's true, but underneath it she's the most thoughtful person I know.
I don't tell her how much I appreciate her. But I reach out to take her hand and for a long time I don't let go.