Page 97 of La Dolce Vita

"What did he do?" Mirabella asked. She was tense all over.

"He went to his brother and helped Gianni sit up. He gave him the toy. The fight was over. Gino didn't feel like he lost. He felt like he protected his brother's feelings. He sat next to Gianni and played with him. He made a choice. It was an instinct for him. An instinct my father didn't have with Rocco. An instinct I've tried to share with Lorenzo and Domi, but I've failed."

"You have not failed. Lorenzo and Domi are your brothers. They trust and believe in you."

"But I don't trust and they know it," he said and his gaze returned to the road. The statement stunned her. It took her some time, but she had learned the rules of their life. Trust was a huge thing for her husband. If he lost it in the men he loved like brothers, he was lost.

"Because of me? Because of my kidnapping and this Isabella woman? You stopped trusting them?"

"My sons," he said and sighed again. "They are my flesh. Possibly my only sons. And everything I leave to them will be divided, shared. Maybe not equally." He forced the horses to slow and stop as they crested over the hilltop. They were next to the skeleton of a dead tree. It's long gnarled branches were twisted upward as if in a death cry. They faced the moon. The storm clouds had moved on. She saw a hint of stars surfacing against the night sky.

"Lorenzo and I were brought up as brothers. From the crib. But I had an advantage. Still, it was only half of an advantage because of my mother and illegitimacy. And he reminded me of that regularly."

"That's the past."

"The past is the future if we don't understand it, Bella."

"I don't understand. Lorenzo is happy, content. Marietta says so."

"That's not what I mean. His need to be more than just the nephew, my need to prove that I am more than just the bastard, is always between us. Even if we don't say so. I don't want that bitter competition to come between my sons."

"They won't grow up to be you and Lorenzo. And they sure as hell won't grow up to be Romulus and Remus. They are energetic little boys in nappies." She grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at her. "And they will be compassionate, determined, stubborn, iron-willed, men in your image for one reason, sweetheart. Because they have you, their hero, as a father." She kissed him. He drew her over onto his lap. She didn't straddle him. The dress she wore made it difficult without hiking it up to her waist. She sat sideways on his lap. The wagon shifted, and she feared for a second the horses would start down the hill, and they both would be thrown off. But the animals remained calm. Her husband, on the other hand, did not. His kiss was as fiery with passion as it had ever been.

Giovanni eased his hand under her dress and between her shut thighs his fingers reached far enough to stroke her kitty. She grabbed his wrist to keep him from slipping his finger into her.

"Slow down. Are we... ah, going to, uhm? Are we alone out here?"

"Just you and me, Bella," he kissed under her chin, and his lips brushed down the column of her neck.

"You sure?" she asked. The night sounds of hooting birds and crickets carried around her through the wind. And there were shadows, too many to count. The moon only gave a silvery cast of luminance over the land and trees. She pushed out of his arms and sat next to him. It was silly to be scared. But the isolation she lived her life under wasn't forced. Not really. It was imposed from years of not being able to trust the world with Fabiana. Out in the open, she felt their vulnerability and didn't like it.

"What's wrong?" he asked and ran his hand down her arm. "Cold?"

"No, it's just... I dunno. I think it's beautiful. But I kind of want to go back. Should we head back soon?"

He chuckled. He turned and jumped down from the coach seat and walked around the back of the wagon. She heard him making noise there and looked back. Not once since they left in the wagon did she think to look to the back of the wagon. Her heart fluttered at what she found. He had lined it with blankets and pillows. There was a basket of food and wine. He even had oil lanterns. She watched with mild amusement as he lit one then the other.

"You did this? For me?" Mirabella scooted off the seat and dropped down on her feet. She walked around the wagon, dusting her hands. "Oh my goodness! Look at this. I love it!"

Her husband beamed with pride. “When was the last time we did something for us? Just us?" he asked.

"I dunno. Tuesday? You washed my back in the shower, and I washed yours."

He laughed. "It's not what I mean.” He swept her up into his arms. He kissed her brow and then heaved her up so he could sit her on the back of the wagon. It was then that her hand brushed something. She glanced over to her left and saw the black cloth case. It was his guitar.

"You brought it?" she asked. "You brought it to Chianti? Why?"

"For us, for tonight," he said and heaved himself onto the back of the wagon. Mirabella scooted back on her hands and rump, to the pillows. At the end of the wagon, on either side, two tall, iron, raised hooks were mounted. She watched as he lit oil lanterns and secured them on each hook. They no longer needed the moon. The candlelight glow was as bright as a campfire. The lights swayed against the push of the breeze, but the flames trapped inside the glass shield did not extinguish. Mirabella could feel happiness spread in her heart. Italy was one of the most romantic places in the world. She discovered this by falling in love here. Tonight all she felt was that happiness and calm she found with him when they pushed drama from their lives.

Tonight would be special. Giovanni looked over to her, and he winked. She blew him a kiss. She couldn't wait.

ChapterSeventeen

Amore Mio – My Love

Firenze, Italy

"You're shivering," Dominic said.

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