Cara Mia

by Denise Verrico

  “Gaius made an offer for you to Brovik when we saw him in Rome.”

  “Brovik? What kind of offer?”

  “To buy you of course—for me.”

  I was flabbergasted. The door opened and Ethan and Gaius stepped inside. Ethan frowned, looking about the room curiously.

  Gaius barked, “Dirk come.”

  After they left I was called upon to explain myself. Ethan paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “Are you mad? Letting them in?”

  “You told me to be polite to him.”

  “You can’t be so incredibly naïve. It’s a good thing it was Gaius and not some other. He knows better than to try something.”

  “So, what did Brovik have to say? Dirk told me they’d seen him in Rome. He said Gaius made an offer for me.”

  “Don’t be frightened. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Is he coming here?”

  Ethan shook his head. “He wants us to go to Norway.”

  “Will we go?”

  “No. You must be prepared when at last you meet him face to face.”

  “Why?”

  “He’ll reach inside and pluck your soul from within, without a blink of an eye—all the while with the most serene and beautiful of smiles on his fair countenance.”

  “What does he want?”

  Ethan kissed my forehead. “Just business—nothing you need worry about, my dear. Now run upstairs and get ready for bed. I must make a call.”

  I obeyed as usual, but this patronizing treatment was really staring to irritate. He told me nothing, like I was a child. How bad could this Brovik be?

  EIGHT

  If there were others in this house of ours, Ethan never told me about them, but Brovik apparently was curious about me, and sent his first emissary just a few months after our arrival.

  We stood on the balcony, my head against Ethan’s bare chest, his arms wrapped loosely about my body. Twilight is called Magic Hour in the movies and so it was, the closest we ever came to standing in the sun, a moment of connection for us, silently drinking the beauty of the surrounding hills and bay, purple streaked with orange, watching day winding down and night stirring.

  Suddenly Magic Hour was interrupted by the sound of a small sports car whining up the steep road. Ethan cocked his head to the side. “Get my robe.”

  I went inside, grabbing his heavy silk robe and pulling on a simple dress before joining him again on the balcony. “Gaius?”

  “No, come here,” he whispered, smiling.

  The car pulled into the drive in front of the villa and parked. I scented the newcomer now, male Immortyl mixed with nice cologne. His feet hit the ground lightly as he jumped from the car, gravel crunching under his feet as he stealthily crept up on us. Something scraped the tiles on the roof.

  “Look up,” Ethan instructed, tilting my head back to look up at the red tiled roof.

  Sitting gracefully among the tiles was a tall figure brushing dust off of his leather jacket. A tumble of neglected dark curls framed a face brimming with malevolent mischief. “These tiles are loose. You ought to have them looked at,” he said, in a British accent, sending one crashing down toward our heads.

  Ethan ducked us out of the way, laughing.

  The stranger landed beside us. “You’re in a sad state, Byron.”

  “One can’t remain a vagabond forever.”

  “Let’s have a look at you then, love,” our visitor said, moving about me in an exaggerated imitation of a horse trader. “Not quite your usual wine my friend, still an intoxicating libation. Local vintage?”

  “American grown from old European stock.”

  “Intriguing blend of flavors. Is she mute?”

  Ethan laughed. “I should be so fortunate.”

  I had to speak up. “To his unending delight, I have a tongue.”

  “Mia, this is Philip. It’s all right, this one doesn’t bite.”

  I offered my hand. He made a show of bowing and kissing it. “Your devoted slave, madam. Exactly what you need, Beatrice to your Benedick—she’ll keep you on your toes arrogant monster. And she hasn’t been presented yet?’

  “We’ll discuss this later.”

  “Keeping secrets? Not a wise idea, they develop a diabolical habit of listening at keyholes.”

  “Later, Philip.”

  “As you wish, there’s an eternity for the dreary business I’ve been sent for, besides I want to know this fascinating creature better. Where did he scare you up, wench?”

  “The theater, I was an actress.”

  “At last!” he proclaimed. “Another in this deadly dull company who understands life! A tedious lot, Mia—except for our Kurt—he’s an artiste if of a silent disposition. I don’t wonder Ethan keeps you far from him. You’d fall for his amazing, azure eyes.”

  “Philip,” Ethan said.

  “Don’t be a bore, Ethan. We’re going out to peruse the menu! There’s a perfectly luscious bellboy at my hotel. Are they all so delicious?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Show him around while I’ll dress.”

  Philip offered his arm, leading me into the bedroom. “Pity we can’t linger…”

  “She’s not your flavor,” Ethan jibed.

  Philip paused before the mirror to give a perfunctory run of fingers through his curls. “One enjoys a departure from the usual and Southern cuisine has a certain spice in either flavor.”

  “And the North?” Ethan challenged.

  Philip struck a pose. “Substantial fare, but much too heavy on the palate.”

  That broke them both up.

  “Where’d you two meet?” I asked.

  Philip’s brown eyes widened. “Haven’t you told her anything?”

  Ethan cleared his throat. “Philip and I are…brothers.”

  I looked from Ethan to Philip and then back again. “Brovik made you both?”

  Philip wrapped his arm about my throat, pulling me close to him. “She invokes the name of the deity, how shall we punish her?”

  “Lock her in a room with you for a few hours. Your punning will turn her into a mass of jelly.”

  Philip dipped me backward like a tango dancer. “She’ll forget you, I guarantee it.”

  Ethan smiled smugly. “Somehow I doubt it. You’re going to stay here?”

  “I’m at the hotel.”

  “I won’t have it said I didn’t offer hospitality to my own blood.”

  “Very well, you’ve convinced me.”

  I took Philip’s arm. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  The villa was small and it didn’t take long. Philip questioned me about my origins in the theatre and how I liked Italy. He was relaxed and humorous. I adored him from the first.

  “Lovely house,” he commented. “Very congenial.”

  “It’s lonely,” I said. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

  He wrapped his arms about me. “It can be a cold world for us. It’s good to find friends.” He bent his head close to my ear. “There’s another anxious to befriend you.”

  Ethan descended the stairs, dressed in a fine, dark suit. “Corrupting her?”

  “You’d be disappointed if I didn’t.” Philip suddenly grimaced. “You aren’t wearing that? We’re going for a leisurely stroll through town to absorb the local color not a night at the opera. How do you expect to mingle?” Philip shook his head in disgust. “This hackneyed image, the suave aristocrat with the deadly secret—you’re not happy unless women drop at your feet as you walk by.”

  “This is as dressed down as he gets,” I put in.

  “Quick Mia, muss his hair, loosen his tie, make him appear a mere mortal!”

  “Impossible,” Ethan drawled. “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he warned me as my hand reached out to his freshly clipped, smoothly combed black hair.

  “It’s so sexy when that lock of hair strays into your eyes.”

  “He’s beyond help, Mia.” Philip offered his arm. “Come, we’ll have a good time in spite of Lord
Ruthven. You must promise to show me the lifeblood of this place. He wouldn’t understand.”

  “Ethan always knows where to find that.”

  Our eyes met for a moment. Philip looked about to say something.

  “See Philip, completely besotted, dull as I am.”

  Philip stood there shaking his tousled head. “There are stars in her eyes yet. Wait until she figures you out monster. Lovers—how hopelessly banal—these dreary triangles, the old ones, the alphas, the little ones, all bound together in a ghastly morass of obsession.”

  “Don’t you ever stop?” Ethan interrupted.

  “Only at sunrise, when the cock crows, I cease to. We’ll take my car.”

  “It’s a two-seater,” Ethan complained, as we stood in the drive, surveying the sharp little Bugati parked there.

  Philip’s smile was all sweet viciousness. “Put her on your lap, I’m sure that she’s well acquainted with it.”

  The saying is, “See Naples and die.” At this time, she was still badly scarred by the war, but valiantly rallying to her feet, with one of the most beautiful natural settings, yet the worst slums in the Old World. Crime was a way of life, commerce a bustling street bazaar of oriental proportion. The Greeks first settled in the hills above the bay, naming their city Parthenope after the mythological Siren. I for one appreciated the irony of the city’s origins.

  We spent a lively evening in Naples at a jazz club with the loquacious Philip who, as it turned out was, in his former incarnation, an actor of Elizabethan vintage, which naturally sparked my curiosity. I asked if he knew Shakespeare and Marlowe, had he ever seen Gloriana herself?

  Philip’s syllables came trippingly off of his agile tongue, “Why would a magnificent butterfly want to remember life as a lowly caterpillar? Bad food, plague, and cutthroats on the roads we traveled, not to mention the stigma of my profession—what did I have left—another ten, fifteen years if I was lucky? Brovik was a god. I’m eternally grateful to him.”

  “He’s as much of a liar as the rest,” Ethan said, with a snide little smile.

  “This is where your ravishing protector and I part company, Mia. He’s far too wrapped in his mortal raiment. Wear the mask by all means, especially if it’s so diabolically appealing in design, find the role you are most comfortable playing…”

  “The fool in your case,” Ethan said.

  “Motley is the only wear. Give no offense—yet speak the truth. You’d be wise to follow my example, Mia. Ah, there’s that waiter again.”

  We stayed out as long as we dared until false dawn lightened the sky, but still Philip rose early the next evening to go out. When he returned, I bounded out to meet him. He’d fed. His pallor was deeper, cheeks fresh and pink, looking even handsomer than the night before. The dark curls were neatly brushed, looking quite respectable by Ethan’s standards, but his suit was flashier, his tie louder and his manner anything but subdued. He leapt out of the car and landed on his feet before me, sweeping me into his arms in a parody of a passionate embrace. “Mia, come away to Venice and leave your moth-eaten lover to pine!” I burst into laughter. He released me, and I took his arm as we headed off to the house. “Where’s the old monster?”

  “Reading.”

  “Some boring philosopher, I’ll reckon?”

  “Poetry, actually.”

  “There’s some hope for him.” He burst through the door. “Sound the trumpets for my entrance!” He made a deep flourishing bow. “Good evening Ruthven—or is it Byron?”

  “Do I hear bells?” Ethan said, not looking up from his book.

  “Aye, they toll for thee, ungrateful son of the blood,” Philip said, ominously creeping up behind Ethan’s chair.

  “Where have you been?”

  “In search of the ravishing waiter from last night—Vincenzo.” Philip reclined on the sofa Mark Antony style, as I draped myself around the back of Ethan’s chair. “As you see, I took a page from Ethan’s book and dressed to dazzle his mortal eyes.”

  “That tie is blinding,” Ethan commented.

  “Somber weeds are for mournful Calibans like you. I’m a spirit of the air!”

  Ethan smirked. “From ear to ear that is.”

  “Go on,” I urged Philip.

  Ethan glanced up from his book. “Ten-thousand lira, he let him go.”

  Philip ignored him and continued to elucidate on his conquest, “I again descended to the temple of Jazz, and spirited lovely, young Vincenzo away to a small hotel.”

  “No mean feat, considering how you terrified him last night,” Ethan remarked.

  “I expressed my admiration for his breathtaking beauty.”

  Ethan smirked. “And his soon to be corrupted innocence.”

  Philip sighed, contentedly, as he sank back against the sofa arm. “He’s simply too delicious to take so soon!”

  Ethan shook his head. “Told you so.”

  Philip closed his eyes, blissfully smiling, “I shall delay the gratification of my Immortyl desire and enjoy his more earthly charms.”

  “He’ll live to a ripe old age,” Ethan interpreted.

  Philip grabbed a bunch of grapes from a bowl on the table near the sofa. “If we kill all the beautiful ones what’ll be left?” he asked, as he popped a grape into his mouth.

  Ethan watched Philip chew and swallow the fruit. “You have a point.”

  “Interested in sharing him?” I proposed.

  Ethan was scandalized. “Mia!”

  Philip grinned. “Wicked—only I don’t think Ethan is keen on it. He wants to keep you to his selfish self.”

  “You’re a corrupting influence on her.”

  “Your tercel may be hooded and her jesses firmly in your grip, but perhaps she isn’t content to fly for you alone?”

  “Mia, what do you have to say about this?”

  “He’s my life,” I said, with proper awe.

  “They all say that at first. That is all I’ll say on the subject. A little brotherly advice, little brother.” He snatched up Ethan’s volume of poems and declaimed loudly about the room, “What’s this rubbish? Dylan Thomas? How very moderne of you Ethan! Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.” He convulsed into laughter. “Melancholy monster! What a picture you are, looks that any of us would open our veins to have, even this handsome devil pales in your shadow, a lover of legendary prowess, even among us… Am I correct Mia?”

  “Assuredly.”

  “The wits and ability to take whatever he wants, which he does without scruple… A deadly killer, a remorseless predator.”

  Ethan grinned. “Stop reciting my virtues.”

  “I’m through—have a little modesty. All of this as well as a sensual morsel of a child who loves him without question and still he broods. Living corpse!” Philip made a cross with his fingers, wailing like a banshee. “Nosferatu-u-u!”

  I collapsed on the sofa laughing so hard tears came.

  Philip gestured to me dramatically. “Look at that! Is that a dead thing? She laughs, she cries, her flesh is warm.”

  “So it is,” Ethan mused

  “Arrgh! Nineteenth century ghouls with your graveyard poets and gothic tales, you’re all obsessed with death!”

  “Life’s but a walking shadow. I believe those words were written in your day?” Ethan chided.

  Philip grinned. “A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

  I giggled. “Must you quote the Scottish play?”

  Philip heaved me up over his shoulder. “Pardon me, as I carry this female bastard hence and bear it to some remote and desert place quite out of our dominions.”

  I laughed but as he recited the passage I had a premonition—this was what Leontes said when he banished his daughter Perdita in A Winter’s Tale.

  “And that thou should leave it without more mercy

  to it’s own protection and favor of the climate.

  As by strange fortune it came to us

  I do in justice charge thee on thy soul
’s peril and thy body’s torture

  that thou commend it strangely to some place where chance might nurse it or end it.”

  Philip carried me out the back door to the terrace, dumping me unceremoniously into the fountain. “Your baptism, lady!”

  Shrieking and sputtering I leapt from the water, diving at him full force. It was like hitting a brick wall, but he fell backward off of his feet and crashed to the pavement stones. We laughed and wrestled, as I tickled him.

  “Ethan help, your falcon has mistaken me for prey!”

  Ethan stood over us, shaking his head. “Mia, do act like a lady. Let him go. He’s not man enough for you.”

  “I can take on a dozen like her a night,” Philip boasted, pinching me extravagantly on the bottom.

  “But you don’t.”

  “That’s fine talk coming from you. I like her… She’s divinely endowed high and low.” He rolled over top of me. “Shall we make the beast with two backs?”

  “You aren’t fit for polite company,” Ethan scolded.

  I scrambled from beneath Philip, announcing loudly, “I’m going in to change.”

  Philip sighed. “Like a Directoire beauty—frock all wet and clinging.”

  “You’re a libidinous nightmare,” I told him.

  I went upstairs and threw on a new dress, before I went downstairs to join them, finding them looking out at the moonlit bay from the terrace, chatting. Then Philip said something really interesting.

  “The money will be wired shortly. Find out all you can.”

  “Quiet. We’re watched sometimes. Dirk’s being positioned for second in command. The alphas uniformly hate him but Gaius keeps him close.”

  “Thoroughly nasty sort.”

  “Worse. He’s got his eye on Mia.”

  “Gaius pesters Brovik for her. Let this play out. She could be the key for us. Brovik could put Dirk’s obsession to good use. Careful though—we don’t want her hurt.”

  “I wouldn’t allow that.”

  “I could stay here on this terrace under the moon, smelling the perfume of these roses forever.” Philip sighed and looked over the water. “The view here is magnificent at twilight.”

  “One wonders how it is by day.”

  “You two are a picture of melancholia,” I said.