Page 38 of Casanova LLC

She went back to the cake, shrugged again. “We moved to Delaware. Stayed with my aunt for a bit. Mom got a steady retail job and I was able to start high school and stay there until I graduated. Pretty normal from that point on.” She scoffed. “Not counting the last five years. Well, actually, the last year. Specifically.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. She seemed to make a decision. To leave it there. To finish her dessert. To sit back. To drum her fingers lightly on the tabletop. “No family is perfect. But I think you can overcome anything if there’s love. I have that with my mom. I had that with Richard. Despite what came after, the one thing I know is true, that I carry with me, is that he loved me.” She dragged a finger through the chocolate on the plate, brought it to her mouth, and licked it clean. “And that’s what you two have.”

Jacopo had gone quiet. I glanced at him and he was simply watching her. All his performance gone. He had returned to himself.

In fact, he stood. “I think, unfortunately, it is time I depart.”

Claire sat up straight. “Oh. But you haven’t had any cake.”

“I fear I would be taking it from your mouth.” He grinned, nodding at her finger-streaked plate. “I can have it whenever I desire.” His manner had changed. He was done interfering. He’d lost his way when he’d realized he was wrong about her. I knew this because I felt exactly the same.

She stood. “I’m so glad you joined us.”

“Grazie, Bella. Me too.”

“It was an honor to sit with you in this beautiful house that you’ve cared so much for.” She extended her hand over the table.

“The honor is mine.” He said it haltingly. Then he shook her hand, bowed slightly, and moved to the kitchen.

“Here, let me get the door.” I held it open, trying to summon up everything I’d wanted to say to him for the last hour, but, oddly, interestingly, my anger had vaporized. He stepped past me, then turned back, as if we had something to exchange. But then his eyes caught on something beyond my shoulder. They went wistful. I followed his stare.

She’d placed one delicate hand on the table, bent her nose to the vase of fresh flowers in the center. Her face glowed with a wash of candlelight and pleasure. When I turned back to my uncle, it was obvious that the fight had gone out of us. He told me, in Italian, “I said you are doomed. I was wrong. You are fucked.”

And he left.

I took a breath and reentered the dining room. I cleared my throat. “Would you like more torta?”

“Better not.” She brought a hand to her stomach. “I ate more tonight than I have in a year.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“It is.” She fidgeted, her fingers picking at themselves in front of her skirt. “He’s delightful.”

“He can be.”

She walked over to the fireplace full of candles, and looked up at the eighteenth-century landscape above it. “There’s so much beauty in this house. But it’s all from the past. Why aren’t any of your paintings here?”

Because she had all of them. But she didn’t know that. And I didn’t know how to tell her that without explaining why.

Besides, I was too distracted to answer.

The candles in the fireplace illuminated around Claire like a solar eclipse. When she shifted and opened her legs, the light passed between her thighs, outlining them all the way up to where they joined. And one thing was certain. There was no mistaking this.

She was naked underneath.

When I failed to answer her, she turned around and looked at me. Then she moved to come back to the table.

“Wait.” I lifted a hand, and she halted. “Would you stay right where you are, just as you are, for a little longer?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not wearing any panties.”

Her face went slack and she closed her stance, glancing behind her at the traitorous candles. “What makes you think that?”

I came off the doorjamb but didn’t move forward. “Prove me wrong.”

“How?”

“You know how.”

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