She shrugged again and looked down at her toes. “At least I’ll be ready for the wedding with these toes. I’ll dance all night. Maybe you’ll lend me your fiancé for a dance?”
“Any time you want.” I wondered if Gio even liked dancing, or if we’d just sit around and talk most of the night. Either way was fine with me. But I couldn’t help selfishly wishing I could be his entire focus, even with everyone else around.
Daphne came over and sat in the empty chair next to me. “Rose and Gio looked really cozy on the couch this morning…”
“Yeah? So?” I really didn’t need to hear it again. “You’d probably be friendly too if he was the only other person who spoke your language.”
“A little too cozy if you ask me. All that sign language, and she was totally leaning into him.”
I rolled my eyes, even though my stomach twisted. “You’ve clearly never watched people who sign, have you? It’s so much body language. You have to convey everything with your body because you have no tone.” I didn’t want to think that Gio might actually prefer Rose’s company. That inviting him here could spark a love connection between them, rather than between us.
Not that I thought I could have a love connection with him either.
“I’d keep an eye on him.” She looked down at her hand, twisting her engagement around and around on her finger. “You wouldn’t want a guy like that to stray, right?”
“What do you mean, a guy like that?”
She shrugged. “You know. Gio’s hot. He’s charismatic. And an artist.”
Even though she didn’t say it, it was obvious that Daphne thought he was liable to stray.
“What are you really worried about, Daph? That he might let his eye wander to someone else? Or that he might stray because of who he’s engaged to?” I pursed my lips, fighting the urge to say anything more.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You’re my big sister. The only one I’ve got. And I just want you to be careful, is all.”
I got up, despite the protests of my pedicurist, and slipped my flip flops on. “I need to get some air.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Alone, Daphne.” I crossed my arms over my chest and quickly hurried from the salon, fighting the urge to cry.
It was bad enough that everything they were saying was going through my head too. But I didn’t need it spoken out loud, said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, that a man like Gio couldn’t ever be interested in a woman like me.
Rose tapped me on my shoulder, and I shifted over on the bench outside to make room.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I smiled at her, pretending to be happier than I felt. “It’s just a lot of people, you know?”
Rose pursed her lips at me like she knew I was lying. “What’s really bothering you?”
I sighed and looked down at my feet, even though I made sure to keep my hands visible. “I’m just tired of people asking about Gio. Like they can’t understand how a guy who looks like that is with a girl like me.”
“They’re stupid if they can’t see it. I don’t get the benefit of hearing everyone talk, but I see the way he looks at you, the way his body language is, the cues that hearing people don’t see, because they don’t pay attention. And I see the way you look at him. That’s not just talk, and it’s not just about looks. It’s deeper than that.”
I swallowed hard, not wanting to meet Rose’s eyes, staying focused on her hands instead. Was what she was saying true? Did Gio look at me like there was something there?
Or was he just really good at fooling people, because he could see the same things she did, and knew how to mimic them?
“Come back inside. Finish your toes, get your nails done so I have a flashy color to watch while you talk, since even when you’re not signing, you talk with your hands, and just relax. And if anyone else gives you shit about Gio, tell them to shove it up their ass.”
I let out a small chuckle and signed back, “I’m really glad you came this week, Rose. It always seems like you understand me more than the others do.”
“It helps that you make an effort to understand me.” She smiled and stood, waiting for me to join her before we walked back inside.
As I settled back into my spot, I looked around at the other women in the salon, all in some level of getting polish done. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Rose was right, that I just wasn’t seeing what was already there, or if all the women in this room were right. If Gio really was just faking it because I asked him to.
After we finished getting our nails done, the limo drove us to a winery not far away where Daphne had arranged a wine tasting and dinner.
Mom was the first to the bar, and with a sigh, I followed her.
“You here to stop me from drinking again? I don’t drink that much, you know.” She hardly looked at me, as if she didn’t want to meet my eyes.
I reached over and set my hand over hers. “Last night wasn’t about stopping you from drinking, Mom. You’re a grown woman, and you’re allowed to do what you want. But I…” I frowned. “Why are you drinking so much this week? Every time I see you, it seems like you’ve got a drink in your hand.”
She glanced over at me, and then turned her hand over, so that we were palm to palm. “It’s not an easy week, Hellie. My baby girl is getting married, going to live her life with Marcus. And you… You’ve never really let me be a part of your life. And now you’re engaged, to a guy I never even got to meet. I’m going to be all alone.”
“You’re not alone. You’ve never been alone.” I furrowed my brow, looking at her profile curiously. “We’ll always be your daughters.”
“But Daphne is about to be Marcus’s wife. And then she’ll want to have babies of her own, and I’ll at most be Grandma Scarlet. At least she’ll let me be part of her kids’ lives.” She shook her head. “You probably won’t even let me see your kids on holidays.”
“I’m not having kids anytime soon.” Not even if I could so easily see little dark-haired kids chasing after Gio, signing things to him as they played. “And they’ll know you. I won’t keep your grandkids from you.”
She looked up at me, a deep frown on her face. “But you will. You don’t let me be part of your life. You don’t talk to me hardly at all, and when you do, you’re this obstinate, angry woman. I don’t know what to do with you most of the time.” She sighed. “You’ve never been particularly happy being part of this family.”
“That’s not true.” I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms over my chest. “You don’t make me feel welcome. You and Daphne both, it’s just one judgment after another. I’m never going to be thin enough, never going to be submissive enough, never going to be enough for you. I bring this great guy, a man who is just about perfect, and it’s still not enough.” I shook my head. “What do you want from me, Mom?”
She looked at me, eyes wide, as if I’d just offended her. “I do not judge you, Hellie. I just want what’s best for you.”
“For the last time, stop calling me Hellie. My name is Helena. The name you gave me. I’m not a little girl!” I scowled. “And you do judge. Every damn day, you judge me for what I eat, or what I drink, or how much I weigh. You judge my choice of work, and you judge the fact that my little sister is getting married before me.” I shook my head. “I’m not fighting with you here, not at Daphne’s bachelorette party. We can talk about it after the wedding.” I headed over to some of the other girls, even though I was tempted to text Gio, and see if he would come pick me up. I was tired of being surrounded by these women. I was tired of listening to the judgments and the catty comments. And I wanted to go back to the villa and curl up in his arms again.
Most of dinner, I was ignored by everyone except Rose.
We talked about all sorts of things, drinking wine, tucked into a corner, away from everyone else. It was fine by me, since at least with Rose, I could be myself.
As dessert came around, I covertly pulled
out my phone, looking to see if Gio had called or texted. I was sure he was busy with his art, focused on creating, or finding other things to inspire him.
But still, I grinned when I saw his name on the screen.
Gio: I know you’re busy with the girls, but I wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.
I bit my lip, trying to decide if I should text back or not. If I did, I’d undoubtedly be judged for being antisocial, for being more wrapped up in my phone than I was in the party going on.
But then, it would be rude not to respond, right?
Helena: I miss you. I hope your art’s going well.
I looked around the room, trying to decide if anyone was paying any attention. Since it seemed like they were all deep in conversation, I quickly brought my phone up and snapped a selfie, sending it with the caption, Your muse says get to work.
A text from Rose popped up.
Rose: I saw that. Sending pics to your man?
Helena: Yep. You going to tell on me?
Rose: Nope. I’m glad he makes you happy.
I put my phone away before Gio responded and smiled at my cousin.
She smiled back and signed, “I don’t blame you. This is kind of a lame bachelorette party. Where are the strippers?”
I laughed. “Rose! It’s not that kind of party!” I didn’t mind the lack of strippers, or the fact that I was more or less being left alone, but I could see why Rose would want a little more excitement. I doubted she got a lot of it, especially when family was around.
It was late when we finished up at the winery. It was a good thing we had the limo; we were all a little drunker than we needed to be, and none of us would be able to drive safely.
The villa was lit up brightly, and when we walked inside, I heard loud music coming from the direction of my room with Gio.
“Good God, Hellie, make him shut that off! Is he trying to wake up the whole neighborhood?” Daphne slurred slightly, even as she headed for the stairs. “I’m going to find Marcus. By the time I do, he should have that music off.”
I rolled my eyes, but I followed her up the stairs, looking for Gio.
He was shirtless, an easel set up on the balcony, and he was obviously focused on the art, his brush flying from palette to canvas and back again.
Before I turned down the music, I leaned in the doorway, watching him.
He moved so gracefully, but with a frantic fury as paint flew here and there, somehow, miraculously contained to the canvas. If it had been me, I was sure I would’ve had paint everywhere.
With a sigh, I found the speakers connected to his phone and turned them down.
Gio spun around, and the smile that spread over his face was contagious.
He reached up, presumably to turn the microphone back on, before he said, “Helena.”
I gasped as I saw what he was painting.
The swaths of color, the textures and patterns were almost abstract, but parts of it looked so familiar.
And from the distance I was at, I could tell that it was a portrait of me, despite the crazy colors he was using. The blue and black butterfly shape was a dead giveaway.
“Gio…”
He glanced at the painting, and then back at me. “It’s not done yet.”
I dropped my purse, crossed the room, and threw my arms around his neck as I kissed him hard and hungry. It was incredible, amazing, and whether it was the painting or the amount of wine I’d had, I gave in to the kiss, letting myself melt into his touch like I’d wanted to all day.
17
Giovanni
I intended to have my painting stashed away before Helena got back. I didn’t know what this was going to become, if it was something that I’d eventually sell or if it was just for me, but I had to get it out while she was gone.
I hadn’t expected that to be her response.
She kissed me like she wanted more, like there was nothing, no one in the world she wanted to kiss like she was kissing me.
I couldn’t seem to get enough. She was incredibly sexy, and with her inhibitions not as rigid as they usually were, I was going to let her take what she wanted.
But first, I had to clean up.
Breaking the kiss with a groan, I said softly, “I should clean up.”
Helena nodded, putting space between us again. “I shouldn’t have interrupted your process.” She reached up and pulled the clip from her hair, letting the brown waves fall over her shoulders again. “I should probably shower before bed anyway, since I didn’t have time this morning to do it.”
I groaned softly, thinking about her naked and wet. Part of me wanted to let her know that I got more condoms while I picked up art supplies in town, but I didn’t want her to feel pressured, especially knowing she’d been drinking all night.
Instead, I said with a garbled grunt, “Have a nice shower.”
She nodded, her brow furrowed, and I watched as she walked back into the main part of our room, tugging down the zipper on her dress as she went.
I loved that she wore so many dresses. And I hated it. All it did was give me ideas of what I could do with her in those dresses, what we could do without even getting her naked.
As if I needed more reasons to be hard as a fucking rock around her.
When she had disappeared into the bathroom, I started to clean up the mess I’d made on the balcony. Luckily, most of the paint remained on the canvas or the palette and hadn’t made its way onto the villa at all. But I wasn’t done with my work, and if I knew how long I’d have before Helena finished with her shower, I would’ve been tempted to finish the piece. The acrylic paints were drying quickly, faster than other mediums I used in my studio, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and traveling with any art supplies other than my sketchpad and pencils grew difficult with all the restrictions. Plus, I didn’t want paint exploding inside my suitcase.
The brushes were cheap, the canvases not the best, but it got the job done. The pieces inside of me that filled with anxiety and fear when I wasn’t diving into my art were quiet once again.
I fully intended to take advantage of the bursting inspiration.
Especially with my limited time with Helena.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d have with her after the wedding, or if she’d ever want to talk to me, see me again. Even if we did see each other, it would have to be in secret, away from the prying eyes of her nosy sister and her derisive mother.
Losing my muse would be nothing compared to losing Helena.
I cleaned everything up and stashed away the canvases I’d worked on, and then headed back to the bedroom.
Helena was sitting on the bed, brushing her hair, wearing nothing but a robe, as far as I could tell.
She looked perfect. Like everything I’d ever wanted.
When she noticed me, she smiled, her demeanor relaxed and easy as she set her brush aside. “You disappeared.”
“I figured I’d wash brushes in the kitchen. I didn’t want to disturb your shower.”
She patted the bed next to her. “I want to hear all about your day.”
I chuckled. “I assure you, there wasn’t much to it.” I sat next to her and picked up her brush, running it through her hair gently. “I’m sure yours was much more interesting.”
“If by interesting, you mean stressful and irritating, sure.” I could practically hear the frown in her voice, and I was tempted to wrap my arms around her, hold her until she was smiling again. Or until she was moaning my name with need.
“What happened?”
“I’m just tired of everyone in my family looking at me like I don’t deserve as much, like I’m not worthy of the love and devotion that others are, just because I’m independent. Or worse, because I’m fat.”
I let my hands separate her hair into three sections, carefully weaving them into a braid. “You’re curvy, and you’re gorgeous. As long as you’re happy, nothing else matters.” I kissed her cheek before I worked one of the hair ties off the handle of her brush and secu
red the plait. “And independence, the ability to take care of yourself is a commendable way to live. Not something to be ashamed of.”
She leaned back against me, and I couldn’t help but let my hands wrap around her waist. “Why is it that when you say things like that, it makes perfect sense, but when you’re not around, the other voices drown yours out of my head?”
I shifted, making more room for her to move in closer, and I pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “My voice hasn’t been around long enough to be louder in your head yet. You’ve had to live with all those other voices, all that negativity, for years before fate threw us together in L.A. You’ll just have to hang out with me more, so that I become a stronger voice.” I squeezed her slightly. “Or we’ll sign more, and you’ll have to drown out the negativity with a visual.”
She let out a sound that was almost a purr, and she turned, until she could press her cheek to my chest. “I like the sound of that.”
I let her snuggle in close, resting my chin on her head. She fit so perfectly against me and melted into me like I was exactly where she wanted to be. There was no way I was going to want to let her go.
“What do you say we get in bed? We probably have big wedding plans tomorrow, right?”
“Actually, tomorrow’s a free day.” She looked up at me, a wicked smirk on her face. “I guess Daphne and Marcus want some time alone before they have to separate for tradition’s sake. The day’s ours, for whatever we want to do. We’re not scheduled on the bride and groom’s plans until the day after tomorrow, at four, for the rehearsal and then dinner.”
I grinned. “Well then, I’m going to have to come up with something for us to do, something memorable.” I would’ve driven her all over Italy, if it meant getting to see her smile, see her laugh.
“Or we could just stick around here. I don’t want you to feel like you have to entertain me. You were clearly busy with your art today. I’m sure you’d like more time for that.”
“Trust me, I’ve got plenty to work on when I get back to New York. I’m on vacation, just as much as you are. And I intend to enjoy it.”
The Fiancé Agreement Page 14