Dario scrutinizes me for a few seconds before handing me over to Dante. I guess he’s pondering whether or not it’s appropriate for me to hold his son in my arms.
I understand.
He’s been alone these past few months.
It’s something that, as coldly as he expresses it, I know it must not have been easy to raise the baby alone and come to terms with the loss of his wife in the same way.
“Do you know how to hold babies?”
“No.” I can’t help but be honest. I’ve never held children after adulthood.
With my sister, me being three years older, I don’t remember if I ever carried her at all. But, nevertheless, I have always wanted children, perhaps not so soon, and obviously my own, but the fact that this baby does not carry my blood and that his father paid off my father’s debt with the commitment to marry him has nothing to do with Dante.
The baby watches me, curious. His eyes are the same color as his father’s: blue-gray. His hair is jet black like the night. His cheeks are round and plump.
My heart instantly softens.
I will love this baby as if it were my own.
“Don’t be afraid. I don’t have butter hands. He’ll be fine.”
“I trust you not to drop him.” Dante’s little hands touch my face.
His lips are pink, and he gives me a smile, which I feel like I’m bewitched by.
This baby has bewitched me. And he laughs as if he realizes the effect he’s had on me!
“He likes you.” Dario stands behind me. His son looks at him for a moment and then returns his gaze to me.
I feel my husband’s presence on the back of my neck. His breathing is slow, and his warmth reaches my vertebrae, causing me to melt inside. I don’t know how he can be so familiar and strange to me at the same time.
“You’re the most beautiful, mischievous baby I’ve ever seen. I’m sure you’ll have lots of girlfriends when you grow up.”
“Just one,” Dario growls. “We Magghio only truly love once in a lifetime.”
I don’t know what comment to make after hearing that.
Where does that leave me? Will he never get to love me? What does that mean?
It warns me from now on, from our first day, that he is not going to love me and that I am a trophy, something he won.
“Sir.” The knock on the door startles me, and I press Dante to my chest.
I turn and see Donatella standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a gray dress with white sleeves and a spotless white apron.
“What’s wrong?”
“You have a visitor.”
“Who’s here?” he questions with a frown.
I see the woman’s uncertainty before she says who it is, “Mr. Dawson.”
I wonder who the hell this Dawson guy is and why my husband is clenching his fists without realizing it. Dario turns and asks me to stay with Dante. Besides, he assures me he won’t be long.
“But…”
“You said you could. Take care of him. Anyway, you two should get to know each other. You’ll be spending a lot of time together from today on.” He reaches over and kisses his son on the forehead.
He stops in front of me.
I smell his scent on my nose, forest, and cinnamon. I immediately remember my lover, the man from last night, the one who loved me without measure and promised me, real love. The one I foolishly believed to be my husband.
His eyes go to my lips. I’m not ready for him to kiss me. I don’t feel prepared to play my role as a wife. He is very cold, very closed. He seems to notice my discomfort as he pulls back and avoids my gaze.
“Have fun while I’m back.”
He leaves trails off his absence as he exits, as well as a strange feeling in my heart. How is it possible for this man to behave like this? I know it was him, something in me tells me so, and it screams at me that the man who took over my virginity, my body, and my being is the same one I married a few hours ago.
How could he forget? How can he treat me with such coldness? How can he look me in the eye and not be tempted to kiss me, as I am tempted?
I squeeze my eyelids together and try to hate the despair coursing through my veins. I don’t know if now, having given my body to Dario, it is worse than before to think of myself married to a stranger. But, assessing the circumstances, I no longer know what to think, nor do I know what to believe.
A sound of discomfort makes me return to the bedroom.
I have no choice but to accept the fact that he doesn’t remember that night. I am ashamed of having believed in birds in the air and empty promises. I can see that men are capable of anything to get us into bed.
“What’s the matter, Dante? Are you uncomfortable? Do you want some water?”
The baby stares at me with his big, beautiful gray eyes. I feel it pierce my soul. He places his hands on my cheeks and smiles at me again.
“We’ll be fine. You and I will get along just fine. You’ll see, sweetheart. I’ll be the best mother in the world, and I’ll make you happy.” The promise comes out without thought, but it’s real. I will protect and guide this baby the best way I can with all the love I am capable of giving. “I think you are thirsty. Let’s go see what we can find in the kitchen.”
I walk out of the bedroom, and down the same staircase I came up. Kitchens are usually downstairs in two-level houses. With this castle, it will most likely be no exception. I reach the lower level and hear a voice that I immediately recognize as Dario’s. I approach the office from where the conversation is being overheard to find out where to get some water or juice for the baby.
When I open the door, I am shocked.
There are two of them.
“Tatiana, come in. I want to introduce you to my…”
“Twin,” I complete before I feel like fainting.