44. DANTE

“So this guy I know gets a call from his feed supplier one day,” Ike says. “They appreciate his business so much that they’re sendin’ him to one o’ them all-inclusive places in Mexico for a week.”

“Right,” I say.

“So he gets there and this place is top notch, I’m talkin’ five-star all the way. He’s there for a week, and he comes back home and he’s tellin’ us all about it. The food, the tequila, the resort, it’s all incredible. And he’s lordin’ it over us because he buys so much feed that this company sends him all the way to Mexico.”

“Sure,” I say.

“I can’t wait to get back home and tell him my son-in-law is the prince of friggin’ Morova,” he says with a grin so wide it threatens to cut his face in half. “And that I flew in a private jet to the family villa in Rome. He’ll bust.”

I chuckle and shake my head.

“I’m sure he’s heard already, Dad,” Amanda says from her spot on the larger of the living room’s sofas. “It was kind of all over the news.”

“What’s friggin’ Morova?” Vito asks. “Is that a district?”

Amanda flashes her father a sour look.

“Ike was just making up words, honey,” she says. “He thinks it’s funny.”

The villa is nestled in the hills of Rome, only a few blocks from the Coliseum. The family has owned it since the sixteenth century, but it goes back to ancient times. Legend has it the home once belonged to Brutus, of Caesar back-stabbing fame, but I think that’s just a tall tale.

Now that we’re down south and the mercury is above 100 degrees, Ike has finally replaced his blue jeans and boots with golf shorts and sandals.

We’ll make a native out of him yet,” I say to Amanda as Ike and the children head outside to the pool.

“Maybe,” she says.

She’s been giving me one- and two-word answers all afternoon. I wonder if she’s angry because we’ve brought her father and the children with us on our honeymoon.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, sitting next to her on the sofa.

“No,” she says in a voice that means anything but.

“Are you thinking we should have just come on our own?”

“What?” she asks. “No, not at all. I’m glad Dad and the kids are here.”

“So what is bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

I don’t pretend to understand women, but I do know that the word “nothing” rarely means nothing.

Then it dawns on me.

“You had lunch with Isabella. What did she say?”

“Nothing.”

“Amanda, I know neither of us were prepared for it, but we’re married now. We need to talk to each other.”

She sighs and looks at me. Finally.

“You’re right,” she says. “And yes, it was Isabella. She was talking about royal marriages.”

“What about them?”

“She pointed out that a lot of them can’t survive the constant scrutiny. And the weird lifestyle that royals lead.”

“Weird?” I ask. “It’s different, to be sure. But as your father pointed out, not many people can fly to Rome on a private jet.”

“You’re right,” she says. “Besides, it’s not like either of us knows where this thing is going, anyway.”

I shake my head. “Bloody Isabella,” I say. “I don’t understand why she feels the need to talk about things like that.”

“Don’t blame her,” Amanda says. “She didn’t invent the situation; she was just telling me the facts.”

“What other ‘facts’ did she tell you?”

“That your mother and father weren’t the perfect couple.”

“Who is?”

“Did you know that your mother had her virginity tested, too?”

Whoa.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s true, Dr. Sabine told me about it when she was testing me. Which, just for the record, wasn’t a hell of a lot of fun.”

“So what are you saying?”

“How do you know your parents’ marriage wasn’t arranged?” she asks. “Your dad obviously knew he needed to marry a virgin. Maybe your mom was the only one available. Just like me.”

This is starting to careen towards a cliff. I don’t want to get into a fight, but now I’m agitated.

“We don’t know that,” I say. “Besides, just because a marriage is arranged doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

“It sure seems like the odds are higher, though, wouldn’t you say? I mean, do you know of any that lasted?”

“Why are you so concerned?” I say. “You just told me neither of us knows where this is going. What difference does it make whether it lasts? You’re free in a year to get on with your life.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Why did I say that?

Amanda’s eyes fill with tears.

“Amanda, I didn’t mean…”

She turns and stalks off to the master suite. I wait a few beats. What should I do? In the past, whenever I’ve argued with a woman, I’ve just broken up with her. I rarely ever got to that stage in a relationship anyway.

But Amanda is different. I don’t care about being right with her, I only care about her being happy. I can’t just sit here and let this stew.

I knock on the door.

“Come in.”

I walk into the expansive suite. The walls are done in a historic fresco that a dozen universities have begged to study, but I’ve always said no. This villa is a private place that’s just for me.

Correction: for us.

Amanda is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I lie down beside her and take her hand.

“You were right,” I say.

“About what?”

“That neither of us knows where this is going.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I want us to work. I want us to have the happily ever after that the fairytales promise.”

As she rolls over to look at me, I see tears shimmering just behind her eyes.

“You do?” she says in a small voice.

“More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

I clasp her hands in mine and kiss them.

“I want you to know something: ever since we ran into each other outside my office, you’re all I can think about. The moment I saw your eyes, I knew, deep down, that I was your puppet.”

Her eyes go wide. “You’re just saying that.”

I raise my hand. “Swear to God. With each passing moment I spent with you, I was hooked deeper. That time in the gardens – it was never like that with anyone else. And our wedding night was magic.”

She leans in and kisses me desperately. I grab her hair and press her even more tightly to me.

“I felt the same way,” she says when we finally part. “That’s why I acted like such a goof outside your office. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of you.”

“Then do we agree that we both want this to work?”

“Yes,” she says. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” I say. “And as much as I want to pull off your clothes and have my way with you on this bed, your father and the children are right outside.”

We both rise and walk out of the bedroom hand in hand.

“Did you really experience all that just from looking in my eyes when we first met?” she asks, laying her head on my shoulder.

“Well,” I say. “Your wet tits had something to do with it, too.”

She giggles and punches my arm. “Good luck getting any for the rest of this trip.”

“Oh, please,” I say. “You won’t be able to make it to the end of the night, let alone the end of the trip.”

She sighs. “You’re right. I’m already thinking of a way to get Dad and the kids out of here so you can fuck me in that pool.”

“Ike! Children!” I call, my eyes lighting up. “How would you three like to go into town and get us some gelato?”