Page 64 of Casanova LLC

“Ma, sì, Caro.” Jacopo pushed into my room as if it were still his. He held two glasses in one hand and in the other was a bottle of wine.

“What are you doing here? Do you realize how late it is?”

“We are celebrating.”

“What? Your Oscar-worthy performance last night?” He set everything on the table. “I texted you today. Many times. No reply.” He filled the glasses. “Are you listening to me? You can’t just pull a stunt like that and expect?—”

“The motor…” He held up a glass for me to take, smiling. “She is fixed.”

Begrudgingly, I closed the door and went to him. I took the glass, clinked his. Said, gratuitously, “Salute.”

“Salute.”

“Congratulations, she’s a real boat now.”

“Grazie.”

He sipped and I downed my entire glass, which he watched closely. He went to pour me more, but I waved him away. He poured me more anyway, which is how I knew he had something else to say. Sure enough: “How was today?”

“Fine.”

He looked at me.

“What! Fine! Good!”

He nodded silently. Then, after a long moment, “Paola, she text me. Earlier. To see if I would be at the palazzo when she come by with the costume. To say hello. But I was in Mestre, with the motor.” He sipped. “You took Bella to the ball?”

“Paola’s texts you answer. Yes, I took Bella to the ball.”

He silently sipped and stared.

“I hate when you do that.”

“What? What I do? I say nothing.”

“Your face says it all.”

He held up his hands. “Why you so ready to fight me? It is a good thing. I mean, I was surprised, she does not seem the type, but?—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you have notes?”

“I just?—”

“It’s late, I’m tired, can we stop doing whatever this is? Why are you so bothered by her?”

“It is not her that bothers me.”

I recorked the bottle, trying to signal we were wrapping this up. “I know, I know, it’s me, that I offered her the barter. Apparently I’ve broken the working order of the entire universe.”

“You know, yesterday, I was sure you offered because you wanted her. But today, I think about it more, and I realize something else: you offered because you are guilty.”

I groaned, “Minchia! Guilty about what?” I walked toward the door.

“The deal with her shitball husband. Tell me I am wrong.”

I wanted to tell him he was wrong. But if I did, I would be lying. And worse, I would have to continue this conversation. It was easier to let him win. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “So what? She’s been through a lot. Because of him.”

“So you have told her.”

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