The door to Natasha's room opened silently. Renoldo Pezzini walked across the plush carpets to stand over his older sister's only child.
She was lying on the bed. Her dark hair spread out over the white linen of the bedspread. Her face was turned toward her right hand the other arm flung out to her side. Several strands of hair clung to her cheeks. He stepped forward and brushed them away, leaving her face completely bare.
He could tell by the light residue of makeup staining her cheeks, and his bedspread, he noted
with a grimace, that she had been crying in her sleep. It bothered him that she had been in pain.
He gazed at her face and recognized the traces of the gawky, dusky skinned. ten-year-old girl who used to follow him around. He laid his hand on her cheek and her darkly lashed lids lifted to reveal deep blue eyes. He sighed. There was so much of his sister, Angelina, in her.
"Uncle Renoldo?" she whispered.
He nodded and smiled. "Mia Bella Natalia."
She shot up and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. "It's Natasha." She mumbled and felt his chuckles deep within his chest.
He held her a moment then stirred to reach into the pocket of his black slacks and held up a white silk handkerchief. She took it murmuring her thanks.
Renoldo pushed her away a little, lifted her face so he could see her. She pressed her cheek back against his chest. She didn't want to look at him, or have him look at her. His shirt was wet. She didn't even realize she had been crying. She wanted to apologize but instead found herself telling him absolutely everything, leaving nothing out.
"It's over now, little cat." He said soothingly, using his childhood name for her.
She was crying again, with huge heaving sobs that racked her body. He said nothing for a while. Finally she pushed back from him, sat up and wiped at her tears with the handkerchief. She smiled faintly, abashedly. She should be embarrassed. She should get up and wash her face.
Renoldo looked intently into her face and brushed his fingers over her cheek. He smiled faintly. "Do you remember when you left Italy? Angelina and your father were packed and ready to go. They were all ready to take that cab to the airport, and then a plane to London, and then another to America? And just when they were about to leave, you disappeared. No one could find you anywhere. They missed their first flight. It was back when we lived in the countryside and the markets were still crowded. For hours and hours everyone searched for you but you were nowhere to be found." He lightly touched the tip of her nose. "Then I had an a thought. I went back to the villa, got down on my knees, and guess who I found hiding quietly under my bed?"
Natasha smiled a genuine smile. "I didn't want to leave."
Renoldo grinned and chucked her playfully under her chin. "But you're here now. In Italy where you've always belonged."
***
Gianni grimaced as he turned the handle and the french doors opened. It had been far too easy to get to the balcony. Yes, there had been a twelve foot wall, cameras, guard dogs, and yet here he was. It had been a simple matter of climbing the trellis and vaulting over the balcony.
Moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains. A breeze swept through the room and the curtains billowed out like pale ghostly specters. He could make out the outline of furniture in the darkened room. A huge four poster bed was on the opposite side of the room, the posts hung with light gossamer.
The air inside her room was thick with the eucalyptus and lemon. Gianni went to her bedside. His hand brushed over a tray on her nightstand. He paused. It was filled with Vicks, cough syrup, aspirin, and a thermometer. He tenderly touched the rim of a half empty tea cup where her lips would have rested. Could a simple illness have filled him with so much fear that he risked coming to see her?
The moon cast a silver light across the bed where Natasha lay, the white sheets twisted around her legs. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow. She wore a white tank and black cotton pajama pants that stretched across her hipbones.
Gianni edged around the furniture, and then knelt beside her and touched the dark curls on her pillow. He had been drawn to her since the moment he saw her. She had cared about him, wanted him. Even after she knew who he was and what he was capable of. But as much as he wished otherwise, she didn't belong with him. They didn't belong together.
He traced a finger down her arm to her hand. Her fingers uncurled as if they welcomed his touch. He wanted desperately to take her hand. Their relationship was beyond hope. She couldn't help what she was born into, who her mother was. He couldn't change his blood, how he'd lived his life. He might struggle against it for a while, but the life always drew him back.
She stirred as if she sensed his presence. He gazed at her beautiful face. A frown marred her brow in sleep and she shifted slightly, the pajama top moving up to revealing her flat, golden stomach. His hand hovered over the tiny silver hoop piercing the flesh above her bellybutton. Her skin radiated sweet warmth
She moaned in her sleep and her eyelids fluttered. She was waking. Gianni quickly rose and retreated into the shadows.
Without warning Natasha bolted upright in bed. "Gianni?" She kicked back the covers and sat on the bed and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you're here," she whispered.
He was silent.
"I can feel you." She turned and surveyed the room again. "I know you're here."
Gianni stepped out of the shadows and heard her quick indrawn breath. He came to stand over her. She gazed up at him unmoving, her eyes bright with fever, her cheeks flushed. His eyes on her face he reached out and traced his fingertips over her brow. It was hot.
"Gianni?" Her words were soft. "What are you doing here?"
Without a word her swept her up into his arms and held her against him.
"I came to see you."
Natasha raised her eyes to meet his. His eyes were still dark, but the fire in their depths warmed her soul. She fought the tears that threatened. "I hope you don't intend to breeze in and out of my life like some long lost friend."
He brushed his knuckles over her cheek in a caress that nearly burst the damn inside her heart. How much more did he think she could take? She already felt like all the oxygen would disappear from the room when he left.
"Natasha..."
That soft verbal caress was the last torture she intended to let this man inflict on her. "Stop it!" She slapped at his hand, frowning when his quick reflexes kept her from connecting.
She stepped out of his grasp and put some space between them. "I'm not going to play this game any longer, Angiolini. Maybe you get off on torturing me, but you can forget it if you think that I'm going to stand there and beg you to stop hurting me."
She glared at him, her tone sharp. "I'm going to make this unmistakably clear to you. Angiolini. Unless it's going to be every morning next to me when I wake up, I don't want to see you again. Ever." She pointed a finger at his chest. "Get it?"
One side of Gianni's upper lip lifted in a sneer. "I get it," he growled.
Natasha nodded sharply. "I'm going downstairs to the kitchen. Be gone when I get back." She then turned on her heel, intending to march out of the room without looking back. It wasn't going to go the way she'd planned.
Turning back, her beautiful cerulean eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady. "If you had asked me to give up everything to be with you," she gave a bitter, humorless chuckle, "if I had to go to Hell and back to be with you, I really think I would have. But you didn't give even me a choice."
Natasha choked back a sob, once again pointing a finger at his chest. "If I ever see you again, it better be because you made a choice. And don't bother me if it's the wrong one. Got that too?!"
Gianni's voice shook with anger, love, too many emotions to name. "If you see me again, Natasha, it will be on the other side."
Not caring to let him see her crumble further, Natasha spun on her heel. The quick movement sent the room spinning and she weaved. Moving quickly, Gianni caught her in his arms and cradling her against his chest he carried her back to the bed. He pulled the sheet up over her legs.
