Page 39 of Isle of Seduction
I march to where they gathered, ready to tear her down with my bare hands and come face to face with an elegant woman in a wheelchair with the fiercest dark bob and reddest lips I’ve ever met.
Andrea, his brother and the woman are gathered around the table, wine aloft in their hands, talking fast in Italian, their hands moving animatedly. How wine hasn’t spilled yet is a fucking miracle. The language is close enough to Kalliste that I gather they’re talking about food. Gosh, he’s obsessed with cooking and eating. And why do I find that so endearing?
The resemblance between her and the two men who hang on her every word is unmistakable and my cheeks heat at the almost embarrassment I put myself through.
“Hi. I didn’t know we had company.”
I give a pointed look at Andrea, who has the decency to look sheepish. Nico, as usual, just shrugs and takes a sip of his wine. I walk to Mrs. Capaldi and hold a hand towards her.
“I’m Giulia.”
She places her wineglass on the table, then takes it in both hers, gifting me with a genuine smile I don’t feel worthy of.
“I know, my dear. I’m so happy to meet you.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief just like Andrea’s when he’s up to no good, and I feel utterly outnumbered. “Andrea failed to mention how gorgeous you are. I’ll admit, when he mentioned an arranged marriage, I was expecting a shrew.” She laughs wildly, then turns the wheelchair, heading for the kitchen.
I understand she’s about to pick up another bottle of wine.
“Let me get it,” I say and walk to the small refrigerated cellar on the side of the island.
She doesn’t listen and continues, reaching for the wine and settling the unopened bottle on her lap, then turning on the wheels suddenly to face me. “I can do anything you do, sweet girl. I’m not in need of assistance from you or anyone else. I’ll forgive the mishap because we’ve just met, but don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, capisce?”
Her deep brown eyes are fierce and solely set on mine, and I gulp. “Of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… Yes, Mrs. Capaldi.”
I’ve grown up around made men my whole life but no one has ever made me cower like Catalina Capaldi does. I wholeheartedly understand why she could have been perceived as both Mario Capaldi’s strength and weakness.
The accident that took her husband's life and put her in the chair did not break her spirit. If anything, I’m sure it even incensed it.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” She gestures for me to take a seat at the table. While she presides, both her sons flank each side and I feel like an intruder in their rehearsed dance.
Andrea and Nico get up and set up the dishes on the table, fish in a red sauce that smells of shallots and white wine, wild rice with lemons, and Andrea's infamous roasted vegetables. Not that I’m complaining, that man has talent in the kitchen. Though I will complain to his face for sure. He knows I’m vegan.
He’s back at the dinner table almost every night now and I wish the silence would be suffocating, but I’m coming to enjoy the quiet evenings punctuated by genuine questions about how Rouge is fairing.
Andrea gets up to get a small pot of steaming sauce. “Vegan sauce. I wasn’t sure if you ate fish.”
“I… I don’t. Thank you.”
Another sweet thing my husband does for me. It tears the threads of the fabric I wrapped around my heart to protect it from being hurt years ago and threatens to unravel them completely if he keeps it up.
I can’t add another word and eat in silence, observing the family around me that makes me feel… part of it.
The meal continues in a more relaxed atmosphere than it started, and the glass of wine I drink warms my bones and heart. I watch Andrea interact with his mother, how he teases, smiles and ultimately serves. He’s attentive with her needs without being overbearing. He never offers to do anything for her, and answers all the questions she has about his week.
My own father doesn’t speak so freely with me. He and my brother Dom were always huddled together, thick as thieves, and it wasn’t until puberty that I understood I’d never be part of their club and moved my love and affection to my cousin.
Envy is a breathing beast in my chest that I’m trying and failing to tame, my smile coming more flat as the meal progresses. The only time I really feel as at ease as Nico and Andrea are is when I’m with Lana.
By the end of the night, the food has soured in my stomach but it’s not fair to me to put the blame on Andrea so I retire to my room and close the door behind me, stepping into the shower to calm the negative self-talk.
With steam billowing around me, I wrap a towel around my body and walk into the bedroom, eyes on my phone where I see a text from Lana and type a response.
LANA
We still can’t find Igor. Julian’s not the same.
GIULIA