My hand came over his, trying to hold the feeling again. I met his eyes for—I wasn’t sure for how long—but then turned to look up at the sky, not able to match the intensity.
“Don’t do that with me,” he said.
“Do what?” I continued to watch the fireworks.
He turned my face and I met his eyes. “Look away.” He searched my eyes, but I wasn’t sure what he was searching for. But I felt it when he found it. The lock turned, and the sound of something inside of me opening echoed through every part of me.
“Amadeo.”
Capo stared at me for a second longer before he turned to face one of the guards. I refused to look at the guard. I refused to give him a second of our time. Guards only meant unrest, and whatever war existed outside of the gates, it wouldn’t touch our night—not then, not a hundred years from then.
My eyes scanned the party while Capo and the guard spoke in Sicilian. People were still dancing while the fireworks continued on. Harrison danced with Gigi. Every so often, his eyes would search the crowd. It seemed like he was looking for someone.
“He’s trying to make you jealous.”
I blinked, realizing it was Capo’s voice, and only then did I look away from the night and at him. “He—what?”
“Harry Boy. He’s dancing with Gigi to make you jealous.”
What about you? Are you jealous that she’s dancing with him? I was going to say, but again, she wasn’t getting any space in my property. It didn’t matter if Capo was jealous or not. We’d made a deal. He was going home with me.
“He’s wasting his time.” I hesitated but had to ask. “Everything okay?”
He sighed and stood, picking up my shoes, holding the straps in his fingers. Then he held out his free hand for me to take. After I gave it to him, we started walking back to the reception. Even if Capo denied it, I knew something had changed.
More guards were headed toward the front of the property. The ones who stuck closer seemed to be on higher alert. A few of them had taken positions around Nonno, who was so drunk that he laughed at nothing and everything.
Capo made a dismissive motion with his hand. My shoes hung from his fingers and they clanked. “A guest that wasn’t invited.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No.” He stopped for a moment in the midst of the crowd. “How has your night been, Mariposa?”
“This has been the best night of my life,” I answered honestly. “If I had the power to stop time, I would’ve stopped it at the grape arbor.”
“The end?”
I nodded once, but I was trying to figure out what that meant, exactly.
“I need to use all of the words.” He spun me around to the tempo of some fast song that played. “Are you ready to call it a night?”
“Ooh.” I laughed. “Yeah, if you are.” It was his party, too.
He looked at his grandfather, smiling from ear to ear, enjoying a cigar with Uncle Tito and a bunch of the Faustis, and then at the men going for the gate.
“One more song,” he said, and it seemed like he was determined to do what he wanted. It almost seemed like he was daring the uninvited guest to cross the gates and try to stop him.
After four more dances, my feet still bare, my dress smudged with stains on the hem, we held hands while a line of sparklers sent us off to a private villa somewhere on the property.
The villa hidden deep on the property was old school and small, but whoever had come in and prepared it made it as romantic as possible. The air felt warm against my skin, like the night air had clung to my dress and filled the glowing space. Hundreds of candles clustered in an arched brick fireplace brightened the darkness. I had only seen pictures of setups like that in magazines. The smell of orange blossom almost overwhelmed.
I knew then that Capo’s aunts had come in and made the place extra special. They had four signature candles that they sold in their stores. Orange Blossom. Lemon. Pistachio. Chocolate. I had connected the dots to the chocolate smell at The Club. Capo must’ve bought the candles in bulk.
A huge wooden bed with a carved headboard sat in the center of the bedroom. The gold sheets were crisp, but the cover was thick and soft and had been turned down. Between two equally large pillows, a single, perfect red rose had been placed. Above the bed was a simple wooden cross.
“You or me?”
“You or me…?” I turned around to find Capo staring at me. His tie had been draped over a chair in the corner, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows since earlier.
In front of the fire, I had to admit, he made me nervous. No matter how I looked at him, he was intimidating, and not only in physical appearance.
All of the fear from the grape arbor hit me hard and knocked the wind from my lungs.
“Shower.” He nodded behind him, toward an open door.
I looked down at my feet. They were still bare and dirty, but luckily, I hadn’t stuck anything in them on our walk to the villa. This was because Capo had insisted on carrying me. He went to step right over the threshold with me, but I’d stopped him.
“Aren’t we supposed to kiss or something for good luck?” I’d said.
His laughter had been low and raspy, but he had kissed me. It was over much too soon, but then, being inside the villa gave me insane butterflies.
“You first,” I said. “I’d like to stay in my dress for as long as possible. I only get to wear it once. It seems like such a waste to—”
He stepped forward and kissed me. His hands fisted into my hair and he kept me solid against him. When he pulled away, my eyes were still closed. “Your mouth is fidgeting,” he said.
I smiled, but my bottom lip trembled. “And you refuse to allow that, Capo.”
Before I could open my eyes, he was leading me away from the bedroom and toward the bathroom. “What are you doing?”
“It’s safer if you stay close to me. The bathroom doesn’t have any windows.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“People keep showing up without an invite.”
People? More than one? “Do you know who they are?”
He released my hand and went to the simple shower, turning it on. Once the flow started to trickle, he threw his shirt over the chair in front of the mirror. He undid his pants, throwing them over the shirt. His socks came off next. And then his boxer briefs.
I felt like one of those cartoon characters when their eyes bug out. He was lean and had muscles in all of the right places. And I was right about him being a python. His size only added to my anxiety. I was so out of my league. He was beyond fine.
I didn’t realize I’d been gawking until I met his eyes. “I didn’t mean to stare—”
He grinned. “You didn’t mean to? Or you wanted to and did, and now feel guilty for getting caught?”
I shrugged. “I’ve heard that it’s impolite to stare.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “It’s only impolite if it doesn’t belong to you.” Then he sighed, but in a good way—like he had enjoyed the release. “I like when you stare at me, Mariposa.”
“I like when you stare at me, too,” I whispered as he stepped into the shower and shut the door. He was almost too big for the small space. He was tall and his shoulders were wide. At least the tub next to it was big enough for two.