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“That’s quite all right,” Julienne muttered to herself, running her hand over her belly to say her usual hello to the baby. “It would be far more surprising if he was here, really.”
And the baby was still sleeping, or unwilling to give her even a little kick, so she heaved herself up and over to the side of the bed. After hesitating a moment, she stole a silk robe from his vast dressing room, then padded her way down the hall to her own suite.
Where, if she wanted to have an emotion or two in her shower or while fixing her hair, that was no one’s business but hers.
She expected to see him at breakfast out on one of the patios these warm, bright mornings, while Tuscany outdid itself with its spring splendor in all directions. But when she made it to the patio in question, Cristiano was nowhere to be found.
That’s just as well, too,she told herself stoutly.
Maybe if she kept telling herself that she’d believe it.
The gardeners had outdone themselves with the rose bushes, and it was strange how little she fancied cut roses, as ubiquitous as they were. And yet here, where they grew exultantly around the villa, seemingly on the verge of going wild at any moment, she couldn’t seem to get enough of them.
And there was a lesson there, likely having to do with the thorns.
But then, all things involving the Cassara family were bad for her in one way or another. And here she still was. With the next Cassara currently inside her, pressing hard on her solar plexus when he was in a mood.
And she knew she was a goner when the image of a tiny little Cassara deliberately kicking at her made her laugh.
“I’ll be mounting a rescue operation,” Fleurette announced later that morning, her voice tense over the phone. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without seeing you. It’s not okay. You know that, I hope.None of this is okay.If I have to storm Tuscany to make it clear to that man, I will.”
Julienne laughed. She had spent some more time with Piero Cassara’s letters after breakfast, but somehow hadn’t been able to bring herself to make any further calls to her contacts. Fleurette’s number flashing on her phone had been a relief—because anything was better than facing her own weaknesses, surely. Even sharp conversations with her sister.
“One does not storm Tuscany, Fleurette,” she said, still laughing. “One flies into Florence, becomes operatic at the sight of the Arno, and loses oneself for days between the Ponte Vecchio and Neptune’s marble penis.”
“I’ve waited in line for the Uffizi, thank you, and it wasn’t worth it. This isn’t a joke that you can tell about penises on Florentine statues, Julienne. We’re talking about Cristiano Cassara locking you away forever. I’m not going to let him do that. And while we’re on the topic, he’s certainly not barring me from my nephew’s birth, either. I don’t care what he did for us ten years ago.”
“Fleurette.” Julienne kept her voice as mild as possible, because she knew her sister well. And she knew where Fleurette’s vehemence came from. “You know I love you. And I know that there are very good reasons that you want to rescue me this time. But I don’t need rescuing. I’m not Maman.”
“Are you sure about that?” Her sister asked, her voice thick with those memories she usually pretended not to have. “Because an addict is an addict as far as I can see.”
And then rang off before Julienne could counter, which might have been childish, but was also effective.
Maybe too effective, because she left Julienne stewing.
So much, in fact, that Julienne was late to her own doctor’s appointment, even if it was conveniently located right there in the villa. She’d been too busy thinking about addictions. About all the different ways a person could give herself over to something more powerful than she was, particularly when it was bad for her.
She’d seen what it had done to Annette. But she’d never given any thought to the fact that before her mother’s many crushes, there was first the exultation.
And she wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that she understood that now.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as she walked into the study that had been made into a remarkably well-furnished doctor’s office, just for her. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
The doctor gave her a slight bow, which struck her as strange.He thinks you’re the new lady of the manor,a voice inside piped up,and now that Cristiano is here, he thinks he needs to treat you with more respect.
Julienne really should have made it clear that she and Cristiano weren’t...anything. Not really, or she wouldn’t be here alone, would she? But she was late this morning. And slightly off balance for any number of reasons, from last night to her sister to her own inability to be as ruthless as she knew she should have been, so she...said nothing. The doctor could think what he liked.
She answered the usual questions, then got up on the exam table and waited while he and his nurse hooked her up to all the state-of-the-art machines Cristiano’s people had installed in here.
Because Cristiano might claim he wanted nothing to do with his baby, but he still made sure that both Julienne and that baby were well cared for. No matter what.
At the very least, that made him better than methamphetamines. Or heroin. Or any of the other things she either knew or suspected her mother had tried in her day. But even as she thought that, she could hear her sister’s voice as if Fleurette was standing there beside her.
Are you really sure that “better than meth” is a decent recommendation?
Shut up, Fleurette,Julienne thought ferociously.
And then startled, there on the table, when the door to the room opened again. And Cristiano walked in.
