Page 46 of Storm and Sea

“What you can do is get this backwood’s dairy farm out of my square to make room for a real gelato shop.”

He raised his boot and crashed it into the glass display, sending shards of glass into every bucket of flavored cream.

“Alvise!” Marina yelled, shoes crunching on glass as she positioned herself between the two men. Signore Rossi cowered behind the counter, his face gone white as his entire stock of cream was ruined.

The leader of the troupe turned, his expression softening into one of pleased amusement. Alvise Vincenzo regarded her like one might a beloved dog they hadn’t seen in a long while.

“Marina~” He purred her name with a velvet grin. “I worried the storm would delay you.”

“And here, I’d hoped it swallowed you whole.”

Alvise laughed loudly like it was the funniest thing he’d heard in an age. “Oh, how I missed your sharp tongue. Unfortunately, my yachts don’t yield to trivial storms.”

“Pity.”

His eyes ran up and down her again, more slowly this time. She resisted the urge to cover herself. Marina was curvier than most, with wide hips and a well-endowed chest. But she was never ashamed of it - that was until Alvise looked at her like that.

He ran a tongue over his lower lip, eyes lingering on her bosom for too long. “How I’ve missed you.”

“Get out of here, Alvise. You got your gelato; now beat it.”

“Oh, this?” He gestured to the ruined buckets of colorful cream. “It can’t be considered edible. Why don’t you return with me to my estate in the valley? Yeah? I’ll share some real gelato I’ve had delivered from the mainland.”

“I’d rather drink actual cow-piss.”

He tutted. “So un-lady-like. The women in my circles would never allow such unpretty words to come from their mouths.”

Marina let out a mirthless laugh. “Women? You mean the caged peacocks wearing nothing but diamonds?"

Alvise grinned, showing too many perfect white teeth.

“Oh, they are not caged, my dear. Women line up at my door, hoping to be chosen and added to my—” he searched for the right words, “guest list.”

“More like your collection.”

“And I only collect the most beautiful.”

He took a confident step forward, invading her space. So fast she couldn’t smack his hand away, he grabbed her chin with strong fingers.

“And you, island mutt, can’t hold a candle to even the ugliest of them. Shame these beautiful locks are wasted on a face like yours.”

Marina twisted her head, teeth clamping together as Alvise barely yanked his hand back in time.

He laughed despite nearly losing a finger. “But that’s what I like about you,” he said, straightening his suit. “You have fire. And something in me stirs when you burn. I wonder what kind of blaze you’d make with the right touch.”

“Go to hell,” Marina growled.

“Only with you, my dear. Only with you.” He leaned close enough for her to smell his cologne, which reeked of money. “My offer from last summer still stands. When you and your geriatric family are starving, my estate is always searching for a maid.”

Before she could hit him, he pulled away. Alvise jerked his head, the movement a commandment for this groupies to follow.

“Oh,” Alvise turned to the shop owner, who looked like he was trying not to pass out. “Consider this an eviction notice.” His eyes slid over Marina one final time, “Arrivederci, my dear.”

The door slammed shut, and the broken bell clattered to the floor.

The smell of fish, salt, and sweat filled Atreus’s nose as he lifted the heavy chum barrels from the dock and onto the bobbing boats.

“That should do, boys. Thank you,” the toothless fisherman hollered, his boat puttering away.