Page 43 of Unrestricted
Tall, broad-shouldered and impeccably dressed in a three piece suit this man looks like a banker but the type who'd come and demand loan repayments personally. He's an intriguing mix of sophistication and brutality. Dressed to kill is the phrase that springs to mind.
He has the same dark hair as Adriano but paler skin. His jaw is more prominent and his nose looks as if it's taken a hit or two. He carries himself with the self-assurance of someone who has never walked into a situation that intimidated him. He stares at me with the same blatant appraisal Adriano does and, I note, similar eyes.
"I suspect the young lady was about to call my son an asshole."
My heart pounds against my ribs as the woman who's clearly Adriano's mother walks into the room. I wasn't expecting to meet her and certainly not when I was about to let an insult to her son fly.
Perhaps sixty, Adriano's mother is the picture of elegance. She's the sort of woman who never leaves the home unless suitably dressed and with her makeup flawless. Her jewelry is gold and though I'm no expert I'm betting it's expensive. Despite the lines around her eyes and mouth she's a beautiful woman. Her eyes are dark, her hair gray.
There’s something about the way she holds herself that reminds me of Adriano. It’s a stillness that gives nothing away.
"Mamma," Adriano gets up and crosses the room to greet her. "You should have called."
He kisses her cheeks with more warmth than I've seen him show before.
"I was passing and thought I'd drop in," she says. That cannot be true. Adriano's house is on the road to nowhere and this woman looks as if she has somewhere important to be.
"Of course you were." Adriano turns to the man. "Benito."
They share an embrace. Adriano turns to me.
"Eliza," he says. "This is my mother, Giuliana, and my brother, Benito. Feel free to call him an asshole."
There is no world in which I would ever insult this mountain of a man. I get to my feet and go to shake both of their hands, lying through my teeth about how lovely it is to meet them.
"You must join us for dinner," Adriano says. "Please, sit. I'll tell Rosa."
It's lucky Rosa usually makes enough food to keep the Ninth Legion marching because chicken cacciatore isn't something she can rustle up quickly for two unexpected guests. It takes time to develop the flavors in this dish and I know she spent hours in the kitchen.
I return to my seat while Giuliana sits opposite and Benito takes the chair next to her.
"So, Eliza," he says. "Where did you come from?"
"Here." My voice comes out as a squeak. "Uh, Rome, but I've been away for a while."
"Traveling?"
"Something like that."
He holds my gaze for a moment like he suspects I'm withholding something. Thankfully Adriano and Rosa appear with plates, glasses and other tableware.
"Oh, Rosa, this looks wonderful," Giuliana says. "I always enjoy your cooking."
Rosa smiles and withdraws to leave us to eat. Benito talks business with Adriano in the careful language these men all use.Giuliana asks me about my family and I tell her my parents moved to Sardinia while I was abroad. That leads her to ask about my travels and I impress myself by making three years on the run sound like a romantic exploration of the world.
When I mention I spent time in Dubai, Adriano raises an eyebrow. Ah, it seems that's part of my journey he didn't track. Perhaps I should have stayed there.
"It sounds like you had a wonderful time," Giuliana says. I don't disabuse her of the notion. "I haven't traveled nearly as much as I'd have liked. The boys' father prefers not to leave Italy."
"Speaking of our father," Benito says. "Tell Adriano why we're here."
I can tell from the way Giuliana's face falls that this is going to be a personal matter.
"Perhaps I should leave," I say, already getting to my feet.
"No, sit, please," Giuliana says.
Adriano takes a sip of his wine which I suspect is fortification for whatever family drama's about to unfold.
