Giovanni danced for the third time with his wife. They didn’t have too much more time before they would have to leave, but she was having so much fun and he liked watching her have fun. He kept his eye on her brother. Sandlin moved through the crowd a few times and then he retreated, going to his new favorite spot.
His favorite couch had been moved into the larger common room and put in a quiet corner where there was still plenty of light for him to read. He was on the couch now, but he was smiling sweetly like he did, a genuine Sandlin smile—and it was Eloisa beside him. Her body was turned toward Sandlin, her posture and position indicating she was open to him and enjoying the conversation, which made no sense to Giovanni.
His mother abhorred weakness. She had always been hard on Ettore because he’d been born with weaker lungs and had respiratory problems. No amount of her driving him could cure his problem. She’d acted as if she despised him from the time he was born, yet here she sat next to Sandlin acting like what might be considered actually human. On the one hand he was grateful, but on the other, he found himself angry with her that she couldn’t have treated her own son with as much compassion.
Henry, the man who oversaw their fleet of vehicles, was dressed in a suit and seated beside Eloisa. His body posture screamed protective. All three were eating small slices of wedding cake and drinking punch. Giovanni had never seen his mother drink punch. She preferred very fine wine or champagne.
“We’re going to have to leave, Sasha,” Giovanni said, reluctantly. “Emmanuelle has been signaling frantically for the last ten minutes. It’s one thing to be fashionably late to our wedding reception, it’s something altogether different not to show up at all.”
“This is our wedding reception,” she pointed out.
Sasha was gorgeous in her wedding gown. It was Emmanuelle who had found the perfect dress for her. The silk slip was a nude, fitted silhouette that clung to every curve. Over the slip was the designer’s contrasting translucent signature elements. Scattered into the embroidery were sequins that shimmered when she walked or moved. The sequins glimmered down the long sleeves and around the neck and tracked down the dress and across the trailing fishtail hem. It was breathtaking. The designer was one of Emmanuelle’s favorites.
He knew, because Emmanuelle had told him, that once he was alone with Sasha, he had only to undo a couple of hooks and the silk slip would fall around her ankles, leaving her in the translucent embroidered outer layer. Giovanni couldn’t help thinking about that as she’d walked down the aisle toward him and as he’d whirled her around the dance floor. It kept him in a constant state of arousal, which he wasn’t certain he would survive until they got home.
He glanced over to Nicoletta. Taviano had leaned down and was whispering to her. She shook her head. A look of impatience crossed his face. He took her hand and pulled her up, gathering her to him for a dance. The two moved across the dance floor in perfect rhythm, but Nicoletta was holding herself—or trying to hold herself—away from his brother.
Giovanni led Sasha to the small couch where Sandlin sat with Eloisa and Henry. “We’re going to have to go. We promised Goodman we wouldn’t be here more than three hours total. He felt it would be too disruptive to the patients.”
“He’s getting paid far more than he should have,” Eloisa snapped. “He can wait.”
“No, Eloisa, he really can’t,” Giovanni said, exasperated. “He did us a favor, and the crews still have to clean up. That’s more time disrupting the patients. You can see that Sandlin is tired.”
Eloisa smiled at Sandlin. “I suppose you need to rest now, don’t you?”
He nodded. “It was nice to meet you.”
“I enjoyed meeting you as well.” She stood up, hands on her hips, glaring at her son. “You neglected to tell me that Sasha was capable of producing riders. I noticed her brother’s shadow and made certain my shadow connected with his. I was shocked at the strength there, and even more shocked when he recognized my shadow. She comes from a very strong family. Have you looked into her background?”
“Eloisa, Sasha is standing right here. At any time, you could have asked her. Of course, I know her background. I asked her and she told me. Had you waited to be introduced that morning at Stefano’s, I’m certain you would have seen her shadow at some point.”
She ignored that. “I suppose she must be pregnant. All the gossip columns are speculating. Public relations reps have been asking repeatedly for an answer. I do wish you could have waited, Giovanni, and been just a little more responsible.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sasha snapped and whirled away. “I’ve had enough. Are we going, or what?” Ignoring Eloisa and Giovanni, she reached for her brother’s hands. “Sandlin, thank you for coming to my wedding. I’ll be back in a few days. Giovanni and I are going on a honeymoon. When I get back, I’ll show you pictures and tell you all about it.”
Sandlin nodded. “I’d like that. And you can read to me.”
“Of course, I’ll read to you. I always do, don’t I?” She kissed first one cheek and then the other.
Sandlin nodded again. “Yes, you do.”
“Emmanuelle said she would come to read to you when I’m gone. You remember Emmanuelle, right?” She pointed out her sister-in-law, whirling around on the floor with a man she didn’t recognize.
“Is she good at it, like you?” Sandlin hadn’t even looked toward the dance floor.
“Yes, very good,” Sasha assured her brother.
“Okay then. You can go with Giovanni.” He sounded as if he was giving her a great concession.
Sasha laughed, kissed him again and took her husband’s hand.
“Why don’t you like him?” Signora Moretti asked Nicoletta as Taviano walked past the table where they sat with Lucia and Amo.
“Like who?” Nicoletta asked, frowning.
“Oh, stop that, girl,” Agnese Moretti scolded. “You’re not very good at covering your expressions. I’ve been working with you for a long time now and I can tell when you don’t like someone. The Ferraros are paying for your education, they make it clear that you’re under their protection and they’re giving you lessons in self-defense, which I don’t agree a young girl should be doing. Not until you’re older. Instead of appreciating them, you make it clear you don’t want anything to do with the family.”
“That’s not true, Signora Moretti,” Nicoletta denied.
“Of course it is,” Agnese persisted. “My understanding is that Stefano served with your father, and when your parents were killed, he brought you here. Isn’t that true? Did the family do something to offend you? Take you from another relative you preferred?”
A small shudder went through Nicoletta’s body and she stood abruptly, as if the fight-or-flight response had kicked in. At once, the members of the Ferraro family turned their heads.
It was Vittorio who got there first. He held out his hand to the girl. “Dance with me.” There was pure command in his voice, but his touch was gentle as he pulled her into his body and swung them onto the dance floor.
He was quiet for a few moments, holding her close as if absorbing whatever it was that had upset her. When she quieted, he allowed space between them. “Is she prying? Upsetting you? You have only to ask and we’ll find you another tutor.”
Nicoletta moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “No. Signora Moretti has been really good to me. She takes getting used to, but she really brought my studies up and helped me finish the grades I needed fast in order to graduate. She makes every subject easy to understand. I’m going to graduate in another week or so.” She paused. “I like the training in the gym your family has given me. I hope to continue that.”
“You’ll have more time once you finish school,” Vittorio pointed out.
“Yes. I told Lucia and Amo I would stay, but I want to pay them rent. I’m working at the restaurant now, and once I’m full-time, I’ll be able to pay them.”