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When I announced I was bringing Alessio with me, my father had forbidden it. I’d chosen to ignore him. Quietly, I said, “No, you refused to discuss it. And I’m not coming here without him. So it’s either the both of us or neither of us.”
The lines in his forehead deepened. “I am uncertain I like this independence of yours. This is my home and I decide—”
A feminine throat cleared nearby. “Our home, you mean.” Frankie lifted a single brow in her husband’s direction. “And I told Giulio his boyfriend was always welcome at the castello.”
A muscle jumped in Fausto’s jaw as the two of them stared at each other, but he said nothing. Frankie was a badass, meeting my father’s hard stare with one of her own. Marco broke the tension by standing, exclaiming, “Giulio Ravazzani, the king of Málaga!”
Chuckling, I kissed Marco’s cheeks. “A slight exaggeration. Ciao, Zio.”
“Presents, mamma!” This was from Noemi, who was eating tiny grape pieces at one end of the table.
“Okay, baby girl.” Frankie gestured with her hands. “Everyone sit. Let’s do cake and then she can open presents.”
A large cake was brought out, and it was decorated with characters from a television show I didn’t recognize. Noemi loved it and we all sang to her. After everyone finished eating, Frankie handed my little sister presents to open. Paper started flying. It was mostly boring kid stuff, toys and coloring supplies. Clothes and jewelry.
When Noemi finished, I said, “Wait! You didn’t open my present!”
“Or mine,” Alessio added.
“Whose present do you want first?” I asked Noemi. “Mine or Alessio’s?”
“Yours,” she told me, as I’d known she would.
I got up from the table and jogged around to the side of the castello, where her present was hidden. Grabbing the remote, I pressed a button, starting my present up and maneuvering it around the corner.
Frankie gasped, while Rafe yelled, “Che figata!” Yes, I knew my present was cool.
Noemi’s eyes were the size of saucers. She eased down to the ground and came closer to stare at my gift.
I guided the child-sized pink electric convertible Lamborghini onto the patio. “What do you think, Mimi?”
“Giulio, what the hell? Are you trying to kill her?” Frankie said sharply, slapping her palm on the table. “Fausto. Do something before I strangle your oldest son.”
I beckoned Mimi over. “It is perfectly safe. Lamborghini made it especially for her. It has seat belts and can’t go over ten miles per hour.” The door slid up toward the sky, like a real Lamborghini. “And it has parental controls that can override the driver at any point.”
As I helped my little sister inside, Rafe appeared. “I want one, too! Papà, can I have a car?”
“Absolutely not,” Frankie answered. “And we’re not keeping this one.”
“Dolcezza,” Fausto said, rising to inspect the car. “You cannot take away the girl’s present. Let me see it.” He took the remote from my hand and studied it, then examined the car itself.
“They assured me it was safe for her,” I said just for him. “I told them who it was for.”
“And you went through my contact there?”
“Sì, certo.”
Bending, he asked Noemi, “Do you want to take a very short drive to see if you like it?”
She nodded her head and gripped the tiny steering wheel. “Per favore, Papà!”
“Fausto, I swear to God,” Frankie said. “If something happens to that child, I will make you regret it.”
Fausto closed the door of the tiny car. Noemi waved and he gave her a thumbs up. Then he started it forward. She laughed, her smile the widest I’d ever seen it. After a few seconds my father stopped and Noemi protested. “Again, Papà!”
“Later, polpetta,” he said and helped her out of the toy car. “What do you say to your brother for your present?”
“Grazie, Lio!” She hugged me and we all went back to the table to sit down.
