Page 16 of Secrets of the Brother
CHAPTER5
ENZO
After the final mourner, and I used the term loosely, left, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
The burnished gold and hunter-green tapestries and heavy, dark mahogany furniture soothed me after hours of staring at Renata’s appallingly tasteless decor. My bedroom and study were my two sanctuaries in the vast home I owned off the central piazza of Cavalieri village.
Since I never slept with Renata after that fateful night, there was no point in sharing a bedroom.
Ours was a marriage in name only.
I didn’t want my child growing up a bastard.
It was the only reason why I'd married her. The only reason why I'd broken the heart of the woman I truly loved. It was to secure the safety and happiness of my future child.
The child that never existed.
I pulled off my tie and jacket and tossed them over the valet stand next to the wardrobe. Opening the watch case on top of my chest of drawers, I took out the key hidden in the folds of black velvet.
Palming it, I headed down the hallway to an arched doorway at the end.
Unlocking it, I threw open the double doors.
The air was stale with the scent of fresh paint and sawdust. I flicked on the light. The room came alive with vivid color. The walls were covered in lemon trees hand-painted on silk canvas with a subtle pale mint green background. Every few lemons featured hand-sewn embroidered sequins to give a shimmering, three-dimensional effect.
The ceiling was covered in a wide crown molding lattice to continue the lemon grove garden effect, complete with a chandelier made of yellow, green, and white crystals fashioned into a shower of flowers. The floor-to-ceiling arched windows were covered in wisps of white tulle to let in as much light as possible. All the handcrafted furniture was white.
Including the cradle which dominated the room.
I crossed to it and ran my hand over the smooth rail. I had made all the furniture myself. It had been a labor of love. I had designed the nursery after my own childhood memories of summers spent on the Amalfi Coast with my mother before she grew ill.
I had wanted to share a small part of my mother with my child, so that she would be with us at least in spirit.
“Your mother would have loved this room.”
I pivoted to see Aunt Gabriella standing in the doorway. “I thought all the guests had left.”
She held up two tulip-shaped glasses and a bottle of chilled grappa. “I’m not guests, darling. I’m family. I told your father I would stay here tonight instead of the villa. I thought you could use the company.”
“That is kind of you, but I’m fine.”
She set the glasses down on the changing table and pulled the stopper off the bottle of grappa. “Posh.” She poured a glass and pushed it toward me. “Now are you going to tell me about the girl?”
I took the glass and waited for her to pour her own.
She raised her glass. “Alla salute!”
I raised mine. “Alla salute.”
Instead of sipping, we both shot the liquor down.
She poured another round. “Don’t play coy with me, Enzo. It doesn’t suit you. The girl who slapped you in marvelous fashion in the middle of church today. The one you were later eye fucking from across the room all day. I believe her name is Bianca?”
I choked on my grappa. “Eye fucking? Really, Aunt Gabriella?”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Enzo. You are so like your mother in that way.”
“The last thing I am is a prude, Aunt Gabriella.”
