Page 35 of Sins of the Son

Milana sucked in a shocked gasp so quickly she coughed.

Who knew it would be so amusing to put such kinky, illicit thoughts into her pretty little head?

Milana’s shoulders stiffened. “That’s the problem with you Cavalieris, you think everything has a price.”

I wrenched her chair around to face me. Placing my hands on the arms, I rocked it backward, throwing her off-balance. “And you already named yours, didn’t you, la mia piccola gattina selvaggia? A million a day.”

“And it’s still too low of a price to be forced to stay in your presence,” she fired back.

I let the chair fall back into place as I took a step back and ran a hand over my face. This woman would try the patience of a goddamn saint.

I marched over to the refrigerator and opened the sub-zero freezer drawer and pulled out the bottle of homemade limoncello and the two port glasses I kept next to it. Holding everything in one hand, I stormed back to the table and grabbed Milana by the upper arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Come with me.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“For once in your life, Milana, just shut up and walk.”

I dragged her out to the veranda and down the short flight of frosted glass stairs which led to the concealed grotto level. Since the sun had already set and the temperature had dipped, steam rose from the heated water. I pulled her along the edge of the lit pool until we reached a padded, enclosed cabana.

I released Milana and placed the limoncello bottle and glasses on the table in front of the cabana. Milana immediately turned. “I’m going into the house.”

I caught her around the waist and lifted her high before tossing her onto the wide, mattress-like cabana seat. “No, you’re not.”

I then poured us both a limoncello and handed one to her before joining her inside the cabana. We were shielded by a semi-circular enclosure of tightly woven, dark bamboo. Inside, the soft, beige, cotton-padded mattress was lined with countless large, blue- and green-colored throw pillows of various shapes and sizes. There was also a white and gray faux fur blanket for the chillier months.

It had a beautiful view of the gently lit grotto pool, and then just over the horizon, a view of our vineyards which seemed to stretch from here to eternity. I often came out here at the end of a long day for some peace.

I settled back into the pillows and stretched my legs out as I sipped my limoncello, while Milana insisted on keeping her back ramrod straight, tucking her legs to the side. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed as she took a sip of her drink and watched the back-and-forth sway of the water.

I watched her.

Without turning to face me, she asked, “Why did you cook… what you cooked for dinner tonight?”

I reached out to caress her back, but then curled my fingers into my palm before touching her. “You know why.”

She set her glass down and turned to look at me over her shoulder. Her face was in shadow, so I couldn’t read her expression.

She sighed. “I haven’t watched that movie in years. It just wasn’t the same after….”

She broke off.

After….

Always after.

Our entire relationship right now could be summed up in two words: before and after.

It was the before I clung to while I searched to solve the mystery behind the after.

I tensed, waiting for her anger. Every time I seemed to make progress, something would remind her of after and we would take two steps back.

It didn’t come.

She had fallen asleep.

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