Chapter Fourteen
I change out of my romper and into a maxi dress that I threw into my small overnight bag last night.
It’s wrinkled from the long trip, but I do my best to smooth it out with my hands.
I dot a little concealer under my eyes and over my sun-kissed nose and brush out my hair.
If I had known just how fancy this house was, I would’ve come better prepared.
I’m not new to galas and going toe to toe with the uber-wealthy, but I would feel better with a pair of pumps or a dress I didn’t pick off the clearance rack three summers ago.
When I make my way outside, I’m greeted by Lucia handing me an Aperol Spritz. “Izzy!” She kisses me on both cheeks. “Benito told me you were here, and I was so glad.” She holds my shoulders and raises her eyebrows. “And with Giac too. . .”
“We’re friends. Just friends,” I say. She raises one side of her mouth in response, not buying it.
I spot Benito at the edge of the terrace, taking in the view of the late-afternoon sun on the lake.
He’s wearing a light, blue linen button-up and loose brown pants that are cuffed at the bottom—a more casual rendition of his standard uniform.
I start to make my way toward him, but I’m intercepted by Sutton—looking perfect, of course, in a freshly pressed beige silk slip dress and fuchsia pumps that make her tower over me even more than usual.
“Izzy, glad you’re here,” she says, forcing me into a kind of rigid half hug. “There’s loads of business associates here tonight that would be happy to meet you.”
My throat suddenly thickens. “Meet me? As in, Izzy in Italy or—”
“The former Congresswoman Isabella Rhodes, of course,” she says, as if it’s as ordinary as any other job.
“We’ve been trying to expand our business to the U.S.
, and we’d all love to pick your brain on policy.
” I cannot think of anything worse than foraging into the deep back pocket of my brain where such information is stored, but I’m trapped. I follow her.
“I don’t know what Ben has told you about me,” she says as we walk toward a small crowd of men. “But I don’t bite.”
“He honestly hasn’t told me much, just that you’re broken up.” There’s an edge in my voice and I can’t tell if it’s bitterness that she’s talking to me about Benito or anxiety about whatever the next conversation has in store.
“He loved me once, if you can believe it,” she says flippantly, and while I knew that on some level, it stings to hear it confirmed. “Despite how it may seem, he does listen to me. Your being here at all is evidence of that.”
I stop walking and turn so I’m facing her. “I thought it was your idea to invite me to Lake Como.”
Sutton throws her head back and laughs. “No, not here in Lake Como. Here in Italy.” I don’t follow; she loops her arm with mine and we continue walking.
“He was so annoyed at his mother’s insistence on taking in a boarder, but when he told me it was you, I convinced him to let you stay.
That maybe we could use your expertise down the line. ”
I swivel my head back at Benito and then to Sutton again.
The back of my skull prickles. I knew Benito was unhappy when I arrived and that he didn’t exactly instantly warm to me, but this part is news to me.
Before I can interrogate further, Sutton pulls me by the arm into the circle of men.
“Gentlemen, this is the wonderful Isabella Rhodes, as promised.”
It’s like I’m a party favor, or the clown hired to entertain. I give a halfhearted wave. “Hey.”
The men size me up and Sutton quickly runs through their names: Marco is a colleague of Raffaello and Sutton posted up in the Milan office; Don is a developer from New York; Alan is from London and works for a major hotel chain.
They exchange pleasantries with me, and I learn their wives are on a tour of the estate with Anita.
“Congresswoman Rhodes,” Don says, and I cringe, “I admit I was confused when I read that you moved here, but now that I’ve seen the place for myself, it makes more sense.” He chuckles and the rest of the circle politely joins in. “That was a tough loss, kiddo,” he adds, and I want to leave my body.
“Yeah, Italy’s great,” I say, failing to come up with a pithier retort. I’m sure Don is disappointed to find that legendary orator Congresswoman Rhodes is not in the room.
“I, for one, would never work in politics,” Alan adds, for reasons unknown and incredibly unhelpful whatever they may be. “Too much feigned righteousness. And for what? A mere glint of power?”
Sutton nods, seemingly in agreement. “When Benito diverted from his predestined path to work in that godawful tiny old office in the House of Commons, I couldn’t understand at all.” The men engage in another round of polite, stilted laughter.
“Certainly a lovely lady like you could convince him to rejoin us, no?” Marco asks, the smoke from his lit cigarette wafting under my nose.
Sutton sighs dramatically and glances back at Benito.
“I tried, but look where it got him: fucking Umbria.” She reaches out her hand and Marco passes over his cigarette; she takes a puff.
“When I told him he was meant for great things like his father, that is so not the direction I was hinting at.” I want to punch her.
How can she view Benito’s sacrifice like that?
“I think it’s noble,” I blurt out.
Don lets out a mild guffaw. “Well, of course you do.”
“No, I don’t mean politics,” I say, wielding a glare at Don because I have decided I do not like him and I do not care if he likes me, “I mean sacrificing the benefits of your privilege because you refuse to see your mother’s home become a—”
“Decrepit wasteland?” Sutton interjects, and much to my chagrin, the men laugh again. I hate all of them.
“Become a casualty of big-city commercialism and globalization,” I complete my thought.
“Please,” Sutton says. “All of us, including Benito, know commercialism and globalization is the only real way to save a town like La Musa. Why do you think we’re all here?”
“The same reason I’m here,” I say, not wanting to unpack the sinister nature of what she’s just said. I look at her pointedly. “To get over a tough loss.” I see Giac enter the party with a sleepy grin on his face. “Excuse me, my friend has just arrived.”
I walk over to Giac without waiting for the reaction to what I said. It’s becoming more and more obvious that Sutton’s invitation was about more than a chance for me to see Lake Como. It’s starting to feel like an ambush.
“I slept too good.” Giac stretches his arms over his head and surveys the area when I meet up with him. Anita and the wives have returned from their tour and are cooing over a patch of fresh roses. “What an affair,” he says.
I finish my drink. “No kidding. I thought my days of attending schmooze-fests like this were over.” A server appears instantly with a fresh drink. “I didn’t know the Farentinos had staff.”
“In a huge house like this, you must,” he says. “And what is a. . . what did you say, schmooze?”
“You know, like, a bunch of people being fake nice because they all want something from each other, but also being horribly passive-aggressive at all times?” I gesture toward Sutton and her cohorts.
“I had to go to these kinds of events all of the time when I was running for office, and I hated it.” Another server walks by with a plate of mini arancine and I take one off his tray and immediately stuff it into my mouth.
The perfect blend of truffles and cheese erupts in my mouth the moment I take a bite. “Oh my god.”
Giac tilts his head at me. “You do not seem to hate it.”
I swallow. “The food’s usually not this good at events like this.”
The server passes us again and I take another. Giac nods toward the edge of the property. “Why is the mayor staring at us?”
I look over and Benito’s still perched at the edge of the terrace.
He turns away the moment I clock him, but I catch his fixed gaze.
“It’s a long story,” I say, and then figure screw it.
Giac is my friend and right now, I could use one.
“We like, kissed once, but he’s pretending to still be with Sutton for complicated reasons even though they broke up months ago, and the last thing I need is another public relationship scandal. I think he’s a little jealous of us.”
A quizzical look splashes across Giac’s face as he tries to follow. “Jealous?”
“You know, because we’ve been spending time together but Benito and I, I don’t know, like each other or whatever.” I try to wave it off like it’s no big deal, but the way my second drink seems to have instantly evaporated out of my glass gives me away.
Giac smirks. “You and the mayor, huh?” He grins again, teasingly. “He is cute. I get it.”
I wave a finger. “Back off, I have dibs.”
Giac scrunches up his face as he watches Benito join Sutton and her captive audience. “Do you, though?”
I gasp, feigning insult—well, kind of feigning. “I liked you better when I thought you were into me.”
It’s probably a breach of trust to share that Benito and I are anything considering his fake girlfriend is a few meters away, but it’s a relief to debrief with someone who knows us both.
“So, what’s the deal with the ex, then?” he asks. “Why is she here?”
I look over to Sutton, who’s in the middle of a gesticulation-fueled story, skillfully holding on to the men’s attention. “That. . . that I’m still trying to figure out, but it can’t be good.”
We sit for dinner, and I’m placed at the center of the table, with Giac all the way at the other end between Anita at the head and Lucia to his left. I am sandwiched between Don to the left and Alan to the right, with Sutton right across from me, and Benito next to her.