CHAPTER EIGHT
“Can I get your opinion on something?” I motioned for Rocco to follow me, eager for him to see the pieces I hoped would win Perchance to Dream Publishing’s approval for the illustration job.
“Of course,” he said and joined me by the easels, where my three artworks stood.
I depicted Brenna’s first encounter with the Shadow King in Fairy.
In the first, she is disoriented: wide-eyed and breathless, her child form gone, lost in an unfamiliar world.
In the second, the shadow comes like a fog covering her; the king’s eyes burning through the gloom.
The final image showed them seeing each other, and recognition flashes; her defenses crumble, and the glamour dissolves as he looms godlike.
Brenna falls to her knees, but there’s still determination in her face that she’d rise again.
Rocco studied them with a thoughtful, attentive gaze. When he turned his head toward me again, I handed him some of my original sketches to pair with my progress.
“So, what do you think?” I chewed my lip and folded my hands behind my back to keep them from shaking.
These were pieces from my soul, a visual soliloquy to the beauty of the written words.
My dream was more than just winning the job; it was validation of my work.
Rocco was at the top of his game, and I wanted his opinion not as my husband, but as a professional visual artist who worked with many creators.
His gaze returned to the easels with laser-focused as he looked over each image, giving them his full attention, which I appreciated. When he was finished, he turned to me rubbing his chin. “Hmm.”
I raised my brows, my pulse speeding up. “What?”
“The pictures are brilliant.”
I nudged his arm. “Come on, give me a real critique.”
“I did. They’re amazing.”
I squinted. “Amazing? Come on.”
“I’m serious.”
I huffed. “You’re only saying that because you’re married to me.”
He took my hands. “I gave you my honest answer. Look at me, Bella.”
I met his eyes. There it was: tenderness. Not just from what he’d overheard from my conversation with Cassidy, but from genuine care shining through.
“You took an idea and brought it to life with such vividness; I’m floored.
You captured the interplay of light and shadow in this one.
” He pointed to the first image on the canvas.
“The composition draws my eye right to the emotion in the scene. If anything, have you considered deepening the background hues a little more?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I did, but I wanted to show transition.”
He nodded. “Perhaps. But honestly, it works. Your pictures and sketches feel magical and real at the same time. Truly remarkable.”
I beamed at him. “Really?”
“Really, Bella. I’m astounded that you’ve done them so fast and so well.”
“Once inspiration hits, it’s like a spark in my mind that has to burst free.” I mimed an explosion from my head, laughing.
He chuckled. “Look at you.”
I raised my brows. “What?”
“You. I love seeing you silly, joyful.”
My smile widened. “I am.” I hadn’t thought much about my feelings, only tried to make everyone else happy. With Rocco, I felt joy in my soul.
He kissed my cheek. “So, time to get dressed.”
“For what?” I asked.
“You forgot,” he said, smiling. “We have the Accademia Gallery’s annual fundraiser.”
“Oh yeah. Yay,” I clapped, bouncing on my toes. Visiting the gallery and seeing Michelangelo’s David was a dream of mine since I first saw it. But then I remembered the press would be there. What if they already heard what my father said about my mother and me?
“Maybe you should go alone this year. With everything happening, I might be a distraction.”
“We Marinis don’t hide, and we have no reason to. We’ll handle it. Don’t worry.” He patted my arms.
I leaned on his confidence, but deep down, I knew he couldn’t shield me forever. I had to prepare myself, or my father would win.
I nodded, determination returning. “You’re right. Forget the press. I’ll get ready, but I wanted to take photos of the paintings. Lily Crane called and said I could send over something extra before they decide.”
“Isla’s here. She can help with the photos.”
“She is?”
“Yes. She came over with me from Marini Corporate.”
“All right.”
“Good.” His phone buzzed. “Okay. I must go, but you need to get ready for tonight.”
I glanced at my watch. “Tonight’s like hours away.”
“You know the drill. It’s a public event.” What Rocco meant was more time at the spa, makeup, hair, and a dress.
I groaned. “I just went to the premiere with Cassidy not that long ago.”
“Yeah, but this is Italy, baby,” Rocco teased, tugging me out of the room and up the stairs. “Tonight’s special.”
“How so?”
“My cousin Lorenzo and his wife, Bianca Rossi, are performing. She sings opera; he conducts. Even the prime minister will be there.”
I pressed a hand to my stomach, nerves jumping. “The prime minister?”
“You’ve met a mayor and spent time with Paul Crane,” he pointed out. “They’re just people. It’s fun. Just like the Palio.”
The Palio was a laid-back sporting event. But with the mayor of Siena present, it still felt intense. Like Cannes, with its swarm of press and celebrities, it was another world I had to grow comfortable in. “I did enjoy the Palio, but yeah. The only way to get used to it is to do it.”
“That’s the right attitude,” he said and kissed my cheek.
We had reached the landing that led to the east and west wings when he stopped walking.
“Magda says the crew is finished with your bedroom.”
The bedroom I had stayed in over the summer. My heart leaped with excitement. I threw my arms around his neck and gave him two quick kisses. “See you later.”
He playfully took my waist. “Should I be happy or disappointed you want to leave my room?”
“You can come with me.”
He let me go, and I turned and cocked a brow, crooking my finger. “Come…with me.”
“Damn, too tempting,” he said. “Go before I do.”
I blew him a kiss and hurried up the opposite stairs.
At first, having my own bedroom felt strange, but now I cherished it.
The room still took my breath away, with its freshly retouched walls and restored frescoes.
The oil painting of Aurora Marini that hung on the wall, one of the central features of the room, had been removed.
Another difference I noticed was a new Gothic mahogany bed, polished and carved as if for royalty.
I ran my fingers over the embroidered lace that had plumeria and bougainvillea shapes, and I could almost smell the scent of the tropical flowers from our honeymoon in Mustique. Rocco thought of every detail.
I walked over to a bookcase and picked up one of the books from the shelf.
It was a collection of Shakespeare, yet another touch that seemed added for me since Luca and I spent many years discussing the plays.
There were the same elegant accents, embroidered rugs, couches, and chairs, but there was also a new laptop on the desk with a phone station.
I knew the pièce de résistance was close, and I walked over to the double doors leading to the balcony.
A chilly wind greeted me, carrying the scent of autumn, and I inhaled as I stared out, running my hands down my arms to warm them.
It was worth it to see all of Florence before me: the timeless stone pillars, bridges, and hilly valleys.
Holding myself reminded me of the way Rocco held me that first day here.
His touch was electric, making my heart race.
I had so wanted to be distant, but he could feel me.
He knew his effect, and his confidence never wavered. He got the love he wanted.
“Adelina?” A voice called behind me.
I turned to see Isla entering the bedroom. “Hello. How was your flight?”
She smiled. “Good, thanks.”
Keeping her after what happened at Cannes turned out to be the best move. She’d shown herself loyal since, and we’d started a friendship.
I left the balcony and closed the doors behind me.
She motioned me through the archway to the closet, and suddenly, I understood what they’d been working on.
The dressing room gleamed with a three-way mirror and a plush, round seat, like something from a boutique.
Her assistants were already arranging racks of gowns, heels, and sparkling accessories for me to try.
I pressed a hand to my heart, feeling its fast beats. It was all so lavish. “Wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you, all of you.” I shook their hands, holding back tears.
“Isla, thank you,” I whispered when I reached her.
“You’re very welcome, Adelina. Now follow me.” She lifted two velvet cases out of her bag, and I followed her to the walk-in closet and over to a cupboard she opened that revealed a safe. She pressed in a code to show me, then opened it.
“You have jewels at every home, but these were sent to you personally by the designer for tonight.” There were necklaces, watches, and rings.
I picked up one, and it fit my finger. “I never wear jewelry much,” I murmured.
The only jewelry I wore regularly was my wedding ring and the bracelet Rocco had given me in London.
“Every outfit deserves an accessory,” she said in a light tone.
I wished I could try them all on with my best friend by my side. If Cassidy’s acting career soared, we’d end up as neighbors—just imagining it made me smile.
“Thank you so much.”
“Not at all, Adelina. I enjoy working with you.”
“Thank you. So, where do I have to go next?” I scrunched up my face.
She smiled. “Zane’s downstairs waiting to take you to the spa. You have a massage, body scrub, facial, wax retouch if needed, a mani-pedi, and then you’re back here to meet with us for styling and makeup.”
“It sounds like so much, and I hate to make you busier, but I wondered if you could help me with something?” I lifted my shoulder.
“Sure, whatever you need.”
“Could someone take photos of the new paintings in my office and send them to Lily Crane?
“I’ll see to it personally,” she assured.
“Thank you,” I said and was about to walk out when she touched my arm.
“Adelina?”
I smiled. “Yes?”
She motioned for me to follow her deeper into the closet.
Her voice lowered. “This is private.” She pulled out her phone, held up the screen, and pressed a video.
“I’m sorry to have to show you this, but it’s part of my job.
” The video had been filmed in our New York foyer.
Nico, Rocco’s dad, appeared disheveled, storming past Maggie as she wrung her hands.
A security guard, whom I hadn’t met yet, stepped in front of him.
Nico poked his shoulder and kept walking.
I glared down at the screen. “What the hell? When did this happen?”
“After you arrived in Italy, I’m afraid.”
I seethed. Wasn’t he supposed to be watching Salvatore’s tennis match?
“Maggie told him that all she knew was that you lost a package from Luca and had looked for it before you left. He asked her if she found it, and she told him no, but he wouldn’t take her word for it. He demanded to see the security footage.”
Poor Maggie. “No one is ever to threaten Maggie, and I don’t care if it’s a relative. Is she all right?”
“She is. She’s a tough lady and has dealt with difficult clients before. But I’ve known Nico for five years, and I’ve never seen him like that.”
Nico was desperate, and it had me convinced that Luca must have included something in the package that he left for me, something that would make Nico behave aggressively toward me and the staff to get ahold of it.
Rocco won’t be too happy when I tell him, but even I don’t know where it could be. Who has it?
“The entire staff is now working to track down that package, and I promise we’ll find it, and it will be returned to you very soon.”
“I hope so, Isla,” I told her. I only hoped I’d get to it first.
I spotted my tote from New York, and a wave of panic took me. Was the birth control in there? “Be right back, Isla.”
I left the closet and carried the handbag with me to the bathroom. Should I take three? Probably not, I’ll just take one and be more vigilant from now on. I poured a cup of water and took the pill, placed the box in the drawer, and headed out for the night.