Chapter 1 #2
“Indeed,” Beatrice swallowed hard, trying not to sound sour as she watched Giovanni laugh with a group of ladies simpering around him.
As Silas’s bodyguard and right-hand man, he often had to blend in well with high society even though both he and Silas had grown up on the streets of London and Venice, respectively.
Beatrice had been hidden from most of their exploits throughout her childhood as they moved around the continent, running from their past. Silas was nine years her senior, and by the time Giovanni came into their lives, Silas was twenty years old and had already accumulated a fearsome reputation.
Giovanni was a seventeen-year-old bare-knuckle boxer Silas met when they were staying in Lyon.
Beatrice was only eleven at the time, but she remembered Silas bringing Giovanni home.
She had stared at him, this dark, swarthy boy with his broad shoulders, sweet, heart-shaped face, chestnut brown hair and leafy green eyes.
Those eyes had been full of hurt and anger and ambition.
“Ciao,” he had said, smiling at her with such softness and sweetness before winking roguishly. “I’m Giovanni. What’s your name, bella?”
She had been speechless, her dark eyes round as saucers as she gaped like a fish up at this young Italian who made butterflies take root inside her for the first time.
He had been the most beautiful boy she had ever seen and had only become more handsome as he grew into a man.
At twenty-seven, his soft jaw line had grown chiseled and strong, his soft hair had darkened and his eyes had lost some of their openness, becoming more seductive for the secrets they held.
He had also kept that same Italian magnetism; throughout her adolescence, Beatrice had been left in a giggling mess by those beguiling winks and smiles that had only become more intense and smooth over time.
Tonight, that side of Giovanni was out in full force.
Clearly, Beatrice wasn’t the only one who found him beautiful.
She watched, irritated, as the ladies around him laughed giddily, testing out Italian phrases under his instruction.
It was a favorite tactic of his to captivate the ladies, one he had grown up practicing on Beatrice.
She’d blushed and stammered whilst his sensual lips sounded out the Italian words for “good morning.” She knew this routine well.
Her brother was right; Giovanni had always been charming, but only when he had truly become a man did his flirtatiousness begin to irritate her.
Just as Beatrice was now firmly a debutante—a flower of society—Giovanni had cemented himself as a ladies man.
She couldn’t help it—his teasing ways made her envious of the women who caught the twinkle in his eye, the slow rise of his exotic smile.
Beatrice drank a little wine and turned away, noticing that Anna had slipped away from Lydia’s mother.
“Goodness, that woman has plans for her daughter!” Anna huffed, flapping her crimson fan.
It was a perfect match for her crimson dress with golden beading.
Silas had bought it for her as a special gift for her first ball.
Silas looked at his wife with a radiant smile, the kind of smile Beatrice had rarely seen in their childhood together.
“Did you not enjoy Lady Loudwater’s company?” Silas laughed, slipping his arm around his wife’s waist with an ease that made Beatrice’s heart ache. How she yearned for that same ease with her future partner.
Anna shook her head, golden curls shining. “What are we speaking of?”
“We’re enjoying Giovanni’s performance,” Silas smiled, nodding towards his friend.
“Oh?” Anna slipped away from her husband’s side to link arms with Beatrice.
She was instantly comforted by her sister-in-law’s strong, kind presence by her side, even if looking at Giovanni flirting was uncomfortable for her.
She could see him now, brazenly allowing a blonde lady with silky hair to lay her hand on his arm with an arresting smile that made Beatrice feel like she had been punched in the gut.
“Are you all right, dear?” Anna asked, squeezing her arm. “You look a little flushed.”
“I am well,” Beatrice worried that her thoughts of Giovanni were beginning to show in her own face. Self-consciously she fluttered her white feather fan that was trimmed with gold leaf.
“Here he comes,” Silas grinned into his cup. “He looks a little flushed too, I must say.”
Beatrice jerked her head up in time to see Giovanni walking towards them, striding easily across the ballroom as if he were a duke and not some Italian orphan picked up on the streets. He smiled as he approached them, puffing out his cheeks slightly and shaking his head.
“There’s a lot of call for the Italian parlor tricks tonight!” Giovanni laughed, joining them. Beatrice felt the subtle shift in their little unit of four as they stood together—now she felt safe, complete. All the people she cared most for were with her and safe. That was all that mattered to her.