The older woman puts the bowl on the table and sits back down, nodding slowly. Finally, she says, “One question: Do you love Dante or Rico?”
“Dante,” I answer at once. “But I shouldn’t. I know that. I mean—I married him for practical reasons. To save my family’s winery and protect Livvie. Charlie and I are pretty sure he intended to marry her off instead if I didn’t go through with the wedding. I couldn’t let—”
“You married this Rico for love. And you married Dante for practicality. But it seems that things have turned on their heads,” Delores states, cutting to the heart of the matter per usual. “You love Dante. Fight for him.”
Right. As if it’s that easy.
I fall silent again as we begin dressing each ear of corn with pats of butter and her spice mixture. Then we tie them up with hemp twine. I brood, not sure what to say or what to think.
Finally, I set my knife down. “Okay, how? How do I fight for him?”
“Girl, you got the nicest set of titties I’ve ever seen. Use ‘em!”
My eyes go wide, a laugh bubbling out of me in disbelief. “Delores Alvarez! You’re terrible.”
We have a good laugh, but once we’ve calmed down, she gets serious again.
“Frankie, I saw how he looked at you at the pressing event. The whole night, you could just see how much he adores you. He barely took his eyes off you.”
That has me smiling, but then I remember that he only felt that way for half the night. Before Rico’s arrival changed everything. It seems our performance for the rest of the evening was enough to fool everyone—even Delores. My confidence starts to erode again.
I leavethe fruit stand with a bundle of elote to take home, a thank you from Delores for my help. As I drive the short distance back to the Bellanti estate, I form a plan. I’ll go straight to the guesthouse and put on the purple dress that I swore never to wear again—the one that Dante loves so much. I know how good it looked on me and I need every advantage here. I’ll wear my hair down the way he likes. Then I’ll go over to the main house and explain everything, tell him I’m divorcing Rico immediately.
I make a list in my head of all the ways that Dante and I are better together than apart. Of the value we add to each other’s lives. I can’t be punished for a simple mistake on my part, can I? Plus, I’m a middle child, a natural diplomat—and I’m supremely comfortable in a peacekeeping role. I’ve had years of experience talking my way out of things. I’ll make him understand that I made a poor decision, yes, but that it doesn’t have to affect us going forward.
I shower, shave, use body scrub until my skin feels like silk, lotion every inch I can reach, and basically use every trick I know to make my body soft, smooth, and touchable. Then I dress and do my hair, blow-drying it into soft waves that tumble over my shoulders.
Making my way confidently toward the main house, I see Dante standing out on his bedroom balcony, surveying his dominion like the friggin’ Lion King.
There’s no way he can miss me walking down the gravel drive from his vantage point, but his granite face is inscrutable at this distance.
When I get to the front door, I’m surprised to find it already open for me. I step inside and slip out of my heels. Then, taking a deep breath, I tread quietly upstairs.
This is going to work. I just know it. I’m ready to unleash all of my feminine energy and love onto him. He’ll recognize my sincerity and be open to talking things through.
I feel a flicker of happiness, of hope, as I enter his bedroom and stride across the carpet. Through the French doors leading to the balcony, one of them half open, I have a perfect view of him. I slowly walk closer, mentally willing him to turn around and look at me. But he doesn’t.
My self-confidence begins to waver.
I pull the door open wider and then cross the threshold onto the balcony. He’s so close…right there by the railing. My nerves well up and try to get the best of me, but I swallow them down.
I’m doing this for us. I hold my shoulders high and smooth back my hair with one hand. He finally turns to face me, our eyes locking. I’m wearing my biggest, warmest smile. But it quickly fades as my hope drops to my feet.
Dante’s face is completely devoid of feeling.
8
Frankie
The light breezeblows my hair in tendrils around my face. My dress billows around my legs. Neither one of us moves otherwise.
My insides twist in knots and I suddenly realize why I’m so nervous. Dante’s looking at me like I’m prey.
He’s going to devour me, and not in the way I’d planned.
“I—I came to say…” I stutter.
He moves lightning fast, pushing me up against the glass of the balcony door. Before I can cry out, his lips crash onto mine, hard and hot and bruising. As he kisses me, I feel like I’m falling backwards—because I am. Dante has opened the door behind me, and his strong grip on me is the only thing keeping me upright as he devours my mouth.
