Page 56 of The Billionaire's Pact

Rocco stayed patiently next to me, and that was how we continued to the church next to it.

I could go on about the long wait to go inside the narrow structure. The beauty of the view of the medieval stone city. Even more, I could share the impressiveness of the grand cathedral with its marble mosaics, intricate etchings, and sculptures that would make a hardened heart swell in its beauty. As a painter, the frescoes and mosaics shone like sirens to my eyes. The Romanesque, Byzantine and Islamic arts I had only seen in a course or books called to me. It was difficult not to be absorbed in the vivid palette and the symmetry of the composed art before us. However, I was drawn to a man in a wheelchair. He was being wheeled down the aisle, smiling with his family. I hadn’t meant to do it, but I left Rocco’s side to follow them.

“What are you doing? You’re skipping the incredible paintings over here,” he pointed out.

My eyes darted, unfocussed. “I see them, but I’m just.…”

They moved across the aisle, and I hurried to cross over to stand near them. My heart swelled as they squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. Every piece of love they shared tore a piece of my heart.

Jacob. It wasn’t him, but he was all I could see. I often imagined and painted pictures of the two of us doing things together. It was like a dream, and I wasn’t ready to leave it.

Those monthly FaceTime calls were comforting. Jacob’s smile was pure light. He signed to communicate, and I loved how he shared all the things he did, especially his art. He even told me he loved me. But in truth, it wasn’t enough. He had no hugs or kisses from me.

My mind breached sealed territory. The family visits that probably happened daily at his center. Birthdays and Christmas gifts he’d see opened with people who were there to visit his friends. Sure, I did see him a handful of times, but not nearly as often as I should have. Did my family visit Jacob on their own? Did Jacob ever have a hug from Mama and my grandparents? Did they visit him without me?

Mama never mentioned him without sobbing uncontrollably. But I do what I can. I tried to soothe myself. My grandparents thought he needed a “smooth transition” to bring his family back into his life. They allowed me to FaceTime with him, but did Jacob feel my love through the screen?

I clutched my chest and gulped air into my lungs.

“Adelina?” Rocco’s voice was sharp with alarm.

But the pain was a flood breaking the dam, and it couldn’t stop. His hands gripped my shoulders as I shook. He slid them up to cup my face, his thumbs brushing my wet cheeks. He didn’t ask me to explain, and I had nothing to share.

He embraced me in the middle of the crowd, wrapping his arms around me, and held me tight as he rubbed my back. Even though he was still a stranger, he knew what I needed. Comfort. He didn’t need to give me words, just his arms wrapped around me. So many emotions were barreling through me to the point that I was overwhelmed. But Rocco kept holding me.

Pain and comfort, and how closely they are linked. That was what I’d remember from visiting Pisa.

We finally reached the Marini villa in Florence. I followed Rocco as he introduced me to staff who mostly spoke English. He told me the tour was to help me acquaint myself with the house so I wouldn’t get lost. However, it gave us a chance to stay together instead of separating. He’d been supportive at Pisa without demanding answers, and I was grateful for that. Honestly, I hoped this extra time would give us a chance to start over.

The living room was grand, with stone sculptures and ceilings with Romanesque-framed images. My hands traced the curved antique couches and the stone fireplaces in most rooms.

“Have you come up with ideas for your next painting?” he asked.

I didn’t want to show him the paintings I’d been working on until I had finished them. “Just sketches so far.”

“We’ll make sure you have a studio here. I think the empty bird sanctuary would work. Just tell Isla what you need.”

I waved my hand. “I’m not a professional.”

“You’re modest, Adelina.”

I peered at him through my lashes. “How do you know?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I peeked. You auctioned off some at your college fundraiser. It’s still online.”

My mouth dropped open, and I laughed. He searched me.

“I’m serious. Painting makes you happy, I want more of it.”

A flutter went through my stomach. The mere mention of anything I desired to Rocco, and he made it happen. It was astonishing.

Some of the oil paintings were portraits of a couple. The man pictured had the same facial features as the Marini men. “Do you all sit for an artist?”

“It’s traditional to do so after the wedding ceremony. We will sit for one, too,” Rocco said, lightly touching my back to guide me forward.

We next went to a study, featuring a ladder, two levels, and walls of leather-bound books in cases that made up the home’s library. “Grandpa maintained most of these works.”

“Yeah, he always recommended books to me over the years,” I murmured.

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