Page 104 of Doll's Eye

Mamma of course has been pestering me about when she’ll be getting some grandchildren out of me, but I keep tossing theattention back over to Armando and Lesina who still only have little Alba and they’ve been married for years now.

And I happen to know about Tullio and Sarita’s secret affair, and it’s so tempting to out them just for a bit of drama. But something makes me want to let them be for a while so I can continue enjoying the entertainment it brings me. It’ll be interesting to see how it ends.

I wake up to kisses being gently placed all over my face. “Mmm.” I flutter my eyes open and find Massimo’s handsome face hovering over me. “Ciao, bello.”

He smiles. “Ciao, bella.” He kisses my lips. “We’ll be landing in an hour. Come eat something.”

“Mmm.” I stretch my arms up above my head. “Okay.” I stand up. “Let me go wash up first.”

After washing up and changing my clothes, I head out and everyone is sitting around chatting and having breakfast at the table. The only open seat is between Massimo and Vita.

Vita spent sixty days in rehab and has been clean ever since. Her homecoming has gradually brought their mother out of isolation, reviving life into Celia’s faded gaze.

Vita and I still don’t speak to one another unless it’s in passing or in greeting. The hospital room altercation lingers unpleasantly, and her lack of acknowledgement only souring the memory further. I suspect the animosity towards me stems from somewhere deeper, more personal, than the issue of her father. Perhaps she’s envious of the immediate connection I’ve established with her family. Envy is an insidious emotion that festers and preys on its host from within.

I don’t pay her any mind as I take my seat, and Massimo automatically kisses me on the lips. There’s a plate of food in front of me, so I dig in and join in on the conversation. “Ezzo, I hear you might meet your future wife while we’re here?” I ask.

“Possibly,” he replies.

“Not possibly,” Massimo says in a low voice. “Youaremeeting your future wife.”

Ezzo sulks and I bite back a giggle. “Arranged marriages aren’t always so bad,” I muse and pop a grape into my mouth.

Massimo relaxes in his seat, draping an arm around me. He twirls a lock of hair around his finger and gives it a playful tug. He smirks when I shoot him a look.

“And sometimes they are,” Celia says lightly, raising her glass in salute making us chuckle.

“Have you seen pictures of her?” Vita asks.

“No,” Ezzo replies.

“I have.” Sarita grins.

“And I’ve asked her not to say a thing,” Ezzo rushes out looking at her sternly.

“Why not?” I ask, enjoying the way Massimo nonchalantly plays with my hair.

“He says he doesn’t trust my judgement,” Sarita answers dryly.

“If she’s ugly, I’ll soon find out for myself. But if Sarita says she’s pretty and gets my hopes up and she turns out not to be…” he trails off.

“Youchooch,”Ass. I chide him, and everyone laughs. Ezzo throws me a wink and I shake my head smiling. He and I effortlessly slipped into a brother-sister dynamic. He’s nicknamed me Harley and I couldn’t be more flattered. Maybe I’ll ask Massimo for a giant mallet for my birthday to use at the warehouse.

Trips with him to the warehouse is kind of foreplay for us. Something about watching him bleed information from someone gets me going. Sex is always nasty as fuck afterward.

I haven’t been to Italy in almost five years and I cannot wait to feel close to my Italian heritage. Mamma was born in Italy and didn’t come over to the states until she was almost a teenager, but my father was second generation in the states. We used tovisit Italy quite often, but it had already been close to a year before Massimo and I got engaged, then so much has happened since then.

Massimo and I get into our own vehicle when we land. “Are you ready for your surprise,amore?”

My legs are draped over his lap, and he has me tucked into his side, making a light trail up and down my exposed leg. I look up at him. “I thought this was my surprise.”

“It’s not.”

I turn into him. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Massimo,” I whine, and he shuts me up with his lips. The scars around his mouth are hardly noticeable, mainly because of his facial hair. But even without the hair covering them, I meant what I said. I love this man. The scars honestly only add to the appeal because I am batshit crazy in love with him.

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