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“Sleep well, Mio Angelo,” he says as he tucks me in.
“You’re not joining me?”
He gives me an apologetic expression. “I have work.”
“What’s the point of my being in your room if you’re not here too?"
He smiles. “You’re very right.” He lies next to me, spooning around me. I know he’ll be up once I’m asleep. I don’t love that, but I know I have time to change that. Someday, we’ll be going to bed and rising together in the morning. Maybe we’ll have kids. Maybe, when we’re really old, we’ll die in each other’s arms. Yes, fairy tales do come true.
8
ARIA
Iwake in a dim room. It takes me a moment to reorient myself. I'm in Luca's bedroom in Italy. Turning toward the other side of the bed, I see that it's empty. I'm disappointed but not surprised. I recall that when he put me to bed last night, Luca had indicated that he had more work to do.
It occurs to me that in the twenty-four hours I’ve been here, Luca has been gone more than present. He wasn’t here when I arrived, even though he knew I was coming. He was the one who arranged my trip.
An uneasy feeling settles inside me. How does Luca see our relationship? When I'd see him in New York, his focus was one hundred percent on me when we were together.
But now that I’m here, he isn’t around. Not when I arrived, and not now, first thing in the morning. I'm not even sure he joined me in the middle of the night. Here I've had fantasies of a fairytale life, but maybe I'm just some dalliance to him.
I try to shake away my insecurities. I think back to the notes we'd passed in New York. It took a lot of planning and effort for him to arrange that. Then he’d arranged for me to come to Italy. Surely, that’s a sign that I’m more than just a fling to him.
A knock on the door draws my attention away from my thoughts. The door pops open and Roberta steps in.
"Buongiorno." She begins talking in Italian, her arm gesturing toward the window. I nod, even though I don't know what she's saying. She crosses the room and pulls open the curtains, letting in bright sunshine. I glance at the clock and realize I've slept until nearly ten in the morning. No wonder Luca's not here.
I'm naked again as Roberta holds up a robe, and I get out of bed to slip it on. "Where is Luca?"
Roberta says something in Italian, but I don't understand her. I'm really going to have to learn this language. As Roberta fusses around the room, I go into the restroom where I shower and get ready for the day. Going to the closet, I find a pretty pale green dress and slip it on.
When I consider all the effort Luca has gone through to ensure I have a full closet of clothes, my concerns about his intentions slip away. I don't know what he sees for the future between us, but this isn't just some casual little affair.
Roberta says something to me, and I'm able to understand the word breakfast. I follow her out of the room and back down to the dining room where a breakfast buffet is set up. In broken Italian, I ask her if Luca will be joining me for breakfast. She shakes her head and tells me, “No.”
I pick up a plate and look at my choices for breakfast. I'm reminded that Italian breakfast is much different from at home in the United States. Italians don't generally eat savory foods like eggs and bacon. With a morning coffee, they have sweet items like cookies or pastries. I see an assortment of different options along with fruit, and a variety of spreads such as hazelnut chocolate and jams.
I select a brioche-looking pastry and some fruit. I'm taking it over to the table where a cup of cappuccino is already awaiting me when the doors to the dining room burst open and a woman strides in looking like she stepped out of a Vogue magazine. She's tall and lean with blonde hair that I'm sure isn't natural but doesn't look harsh. She's wearing cream-colored slacks and a silk shirt. She pushes large sunglasses up on her head as she approaches me. She’s speaking Italian a mile a minute as she embraces me, giving me a kiss on each cheek. I stare at her in confusion. Who is she? God! Luca isn’t married, is he?
Roberta says something to the woman who stops mid-statement. She turns her attention to me and asks, "You don't speak Italian?"
I shrug, feeling like it's an insult to them that I can't speak their language. "Only a little. "Un pocco,” I say to show I know a few words.
The woman arches a brow. "Well, we’ll need to work on that, won’t we?" She gives me a large smile. "I’m Bianca Fontana. I'm married to Gino, one of Don Conte’s caporegimes.”
"I'm Aria Leone.” I think I should shake her hand but remember we’ve already greeted each other with cheek kisses.
The woman lets out a laugh. "Oh, I know who you are, and you and I are going to be good friends." She moves over toward the buffet, picking up a plate and selecting something for breakfast. Clearly, she feels at home in Luca’s home.
"I've been eager to meet you for some time."
Has Luca told others about me? That knowledge works to alleviate my doubt that he sees me only as a temporary plaything.
Bianca moves to the table and sits down, asking Roberta for something in Italian. When she looks at me, she says, "Sit. We have so much to talk about."
I sit to eat breakfast and listen as Bianca prattles on about her and the other wives.
"We all know you are a Mafia princess from the United States, but I've decided that I'm going to help you understand being a Mafia wife in Italy."
