“You aren’t ready, neither am I.” Giovanni glanced over at her. “Am I wrong?”
Mira turned her gaze to the window. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was correct. From the back of the car she focused all of her attention on the familiar streets and homes that led to the open valleys and hills of Tuscany. The unreal beauty of the outskirts of the city struck her. It was like that of a picture postcard. Again she remembered why this was the country where she and Fabiana had found love.
“Eve will need a car seat in the future, Giovanni.” Mira said. “You can’t ride around with her in your lap. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll see to it.”
When they veered off the main highway to a slanting road that circled mountainous cliffs, sweet memories surfaced. Like the one where she rode the back of his motorcycle with her arms wrapped tight around his waist. The wind blew at her face, up her thighs, and under her dress as she held to him. Giovanni felt so strong and powerful in her arms. There was irony in her life again. Once more she accepted the parallels between her and his mother. Had Evelyn McHenry made the same journey with her child, unsure of her future?
After a silent thirty minutes Villa di Luce appeared and the journey neared an end. It looked as it did two years ago, forlorn, abandoned.
“How long will we stay here?” she asked.
“Until we are ready to leave.”
Mira exited the car first and he followed. She accepted the baby bag and waited in the cool evening air for Giovanni to give her the okay to proceed to the cottage. Together they went inside. The driver opened the place up. Giovanni wouldn’t let go of Eve so Mira did her best to uncover the furniture. It dawned on her how vulnerable the isolation could make them. Was it safe?
“Are your men going to be here with us?”
Giovanni handed her their daughter. “Take her. She needs her mother now.”
Mira accepted her child who still hadn’t opened her eyes.
“I’ll warm the place.”
“I asked you a question. Is it safe here?”
He spoke to the driver in Italian. She understood the exchange. Giovanni expected eight men posted all night and three more up a mile ahead to monitor the roads. The man nodded as if it were a normal request. Sadly Mira realized how much she now appreciated the fact that these men followed him wherever he went.
Giovanni did as promised and carried in logs to warm up the fireplaces. The driver brought in her bags, which were packed with everything she could reach.
“It’s been a long day. There’s a room downstairs. Take her in there. It’ll warm faster than the one above. I’ll stay on the sofa.”
Mira didn’t know what to say. She wanted to talk to him, but the look of tired sadness reflected in his blue eyes delayed her from opening old wounds. Their reunion was too fresh and fragile to risk an argument now. In less than twenty-four hours everything for them both had changed. And he was right. She felt bone weary. She wanted to be close to him, but that wasn’t possible either. The longer he stared into her eyes the more they seemed unforgiving. She started past him to the room at the back of the cottage. He put a hand to her arm when she drew near.
“Grazie, Bella.”
She glanced up into his strong handsome face, nodded and kept going.
Giovanni lowered his hand. She walked off to the back of the room, and he exhaled the breath he held the moment he touched her. He found the wine closet and removed a bottle of his family’s Chianti. He needed something to warm him. His woman wouldn’t be an option tonight. Her no sex rule was laughable. But he knew better than to disrespect her wishes.
At some point by the fire he had fallen asleep. A hand covered his that held a bottle on his lap. Giovanni opened his eyes. Mira stared down at him. Her hair had a brushed straight look to it. She was real, and not one of his many night dreams.
“Can I have a taste?” she asked.