Page 28 of His to Keep
Gio’s cousin waves a dismissive hand. “Not at all. A beautiful woman like you should have the finest things in life.” He looks me up and down. “I would dress you in the most expensive fabrics, not this…”
Apparently he has no words to describe the clothes I’m wearing, so he offers a sneer as if the cotton jersey mortally offendshim. Next to me, Gio quietly seethes at the attention his cousin is giving me. I’m going to have to knock this crap out of him one way or the other because it’s irritating as hell that I can’t even speak to another man without it triggering some caveman impulse in him.
“Is there a special woman in your life, Lorenzo?”
“How could I choose just one,bella? Hearts would be broken if I settled down.”
“I see you’re still full of shit,” Gio grumbles. This petulant side of him is deeply unattractive.
“And you’re still a humorless pup. Are you really so insecure about another man speaking to your girl? Perhaps you fear I will swoop in and take her for myself.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“That’s enough,” I snarl. “I’m not some toy to be fought over. I’m a person who’s fed up with being pushed and pulled this way and that at the whims of men.” I jab Gio in the chest with my finger. “Now, apologize to your cousin. He’s done nothing wrong.”
Gio draws in a deep breath and then blows it out slowly, calming himself. “Mi diaspace, Lorenzo. It’s been a long couple of days.”
Lorenzo sends him a look that conveys his understanding. “I forgive you.”
“But so we’re clear, Eilidh is mine.”
My eyes narrow in irritation. Lorenzo, of course, picks up on the subtle change in my expression.
“And how does Eilidh feel about that?”
“Like I must have really pissed someone off in a previous life,” I reply.
“Oh, dear. Is my baby cousin not your dream come true?”
Realizing it’s not a good idea to insult Gio in front of others, I temper my response. “He’s okay.”
“Damned by faint praise.” Lorenzo shakes his head and laughs. “I like this girl, Giovanni. She is not the wilting flower I expected.”
“She’s a fucking thistle,” Gio mutters.
I’m not sure how to take that comment. Thistles are pretty to look at, but they’re prickly. Is that how Gio sees me? I guess I haven’t exactly presented him with a soft and fluffy version of myself. If one ever existed, it doesn’t now. Even before tragedy struck my family a fatal blow, I wasn’t the cute and cuddly type.
Turning to watch the countryside passing by, I tune out Gio and Lorenzo’s conversation, which has turned to casting judgment over family members’ recent exploits. I swear men are the biggest gossips.
The Tuscan landscape is so beautiful I could cry. I love the trees, the tall thin ones I can never remember the name of. We drive past farms and lonely villas situated high on the hillsides before coming to a village whose narrow streets barely accommodate the width of the SUV. It’s picture perfect. There are dozens of little houses, some with window boxes filled with vibrant colors. We pass through a square with a fountain at its center and an old stone church accessed via a flight of wide steps. It’s medieval, I think. Architecture isn’t something I know much about, but it reminds me of the church Sophia and her family dragged me to when I stayed with them in Lucca.
As we exit the square, a boy of about fourteen gives me the finger and shouts something in Italian. I don’t have to know the language to understand whatever he said was unpleasant.
“Cheeky little shit,” I murmur.
“Pay no attention,” Lorenzo advises. “There are still some in the area who blame us for recent events. It is best to allow them to vent.”
“What recent events?”
“The shooting of a young girl.” He makes the sign of the cross, which I’m assuming is more out of habit than religious sentiment. He motions toward Gio. “His brother Matteo was there, but was not involved. People assumed because she was killed by a Mafia family we must have been responsible for the murdering thugs coming to the village.”
“But you weren’t?” I check.
“No.” Lorenzo sighs. “In this, at least, we were innocent.”
“Matteo took it badly,” Gio says. “He blamed himself because he didn’t react in time to save the girl.”
“It sounds like a horrible tragedy. He can’t hold himself responsible.”
