“I’m just sayin’.” She reaches over, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Her fingers are warm and sure and the gentleness of it hollows me out. “I been in this house a long time, dawlin’. Watched a lot of people come and go. Some of ’em wanted the name. Some wanted the money. Some just wanted to survive.”
She cups my face. Her palm is rough and certain.
“You the first one who wanted him. Just him. And that boy knows it.”
I don’t trust my voice. Just nod.
Nonna Rosa pats my hand, then stands. “Eat somethin’. Giada’s on her way with enough champagne to float a boat, and you gonna need your strength.”
She pauses at the door, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “And don’t let that bath water get cold,cher. Someone went to a lot of trouble givin’ me very specific instructions.”
She’s gone before I can ask what she means.
I finish the coffee. Pick at the beignets. The powdered sugar leaves traces on my fingers, sweet and fleeting.
Don’t let that bath water get cold. Very specific instructions.
I cross the room. Push the bathroom door open.
And stop breathing.
The bathroom has been transformed. Candles line every surface, unlit but waiting, their wicks fresh. The massive soaking tub is filled with steaming water, the surface scattered with jasmine petals floating like small white stars. Glass bottles crowd the edge. Oils that smell of honey and vanilla. Bath salts that shimmer pink. A small dish of what looks like raw honeycomb.
On the marble counter, a bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket already sweating. One crystal flute. A silk robe I’ve never seen before, the color of cream, draped over the towel warmer.
And a note. Folded once. My name written in his handwriting, the letters sharp and slanted.
I pick it up with fingers that won’t hold still. My pulse drums in my wrists, quick and skittering.
I unfold it.
Tesoro,
I’ve taken a lot of things. Territory. Power. Lives.
You’re the only thing I’ve ever been given.
Today you choose me in front of everyone.
I need you to know: I’d burn this city to the ground before I let anyone take you from me.
Soak. Relax.
The next time I see you, you’ll be walking toward me.
I’ll be the one who can’t breathe.
Yours, D
I read it twice. Three times. My vision blurs on the fourth. My hands tremble against the paper, the tremor running all the way up to my elbows.
I fold the note with care. Tuck it into the drawer where I keep precious things. Then I light the candles, pour the champagne, and sink into water that smells like flowers and jasmine and him, somehow. All of it him.
By the time I emerge, skin flushed and loose-limbed, the candles have burned halfway down. I wrap myself in the cream silk robe he left for me and pad back into the bedroom, still warm from the water.
Giada arrives like a hurricane wrapped in silk.
“Don’t even try to tell me you slept in your own room last night.” She sweeps in carrying two bottles of Veuve Clicquot, a garment bag over her arm, and a woman I don’t recognize trailing behind with a professional makeup case. “Nonna Rosa found the study couch rumpled this morning. The whole house knows.”
