Gina lifted her head, an appreciative smile. “And you?”
He scuffed the heel of his shoe on the carpet. “According to the Colonel, I’m to sacrifice a lamb to ask the gods for forgiveness.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now, now. Let’s not start calling Il Duce a god just yet.” She leaned in, her smile conspiratorial. “He’d wet himself if he heard that.”
He had to smile back, feeling surprisingly at ease. He yearned to have more than this one drink with her. He wanted to just be with her and, at the same time, realised that was exactly what all those men who flocked around Gina Conti wanted. This and more. And he had to wonder whether, like he, they ever got more. He had his doubts. He felt sure they had to settle for titbits like this.
He bent over her, his voice low. “Gina, I want to apologise—”
“Don’t.” She cast another look at the mirror above them. He did too. The general was gone.
Her mood changed once more, this time to something more intimate, as if they were old friends. “I’m going to have a cigarette, and you will light it. We have a little time before our spouses have had enough. But, Angelo, we will not use that time to revisit what happened between us.” She took a step back, her eyes on his. “Besides, I know I am not the first you’ve left behind.”
“But that’s not true.” He felt a sharp prick at the back of his head and automatically scratched the rise of the scar.
She was busy with her handbag and took out an etched cigarette case, flipped it open, and pulled one out before looking at him again. He reached into his pocket for his lighter, but it was not there, and he remembered the day he’d pretended to receive his war medal from Katharina.
“Not true? Then I must take your word for it.” She tapped the end of her cigarette on the bar before holding it to her lips. “Be a gentleman, will you?”
The lighter was in his other pocket. He lit Gina’s cigarette.
“Your wife is watching.”
In the mirror, he saw Chiara at the roulette table. Even in the half dark, he could see she was anxious.
“You really must keep her close to you. She’s your best ally,” Gina said.
“But my wife is not prepared to forgive me unless I leave the party. Which may mean resigning from the ministry entirely. If I am to enjoy any sort of reconciliation, then that is what she will ask me to do. She’s hoping to achieve that on this holiday.”
Gina chuckled. “Quite the dilemma.” She waved the cigarette towards the roulette table. “And quite shortsighted of her. It’s a reaction of the heart, Angelo. She likely believes that if you are prepared to lie to her about your involvement with the party, then you are able to hide a great many things. Things she may never forgive you for.” She dropped her arm below the edge of the bar, and he felt her fingertips brush his thigh. The touch jolted him.
Just as quickly, her hand was back on the bar. She smiled behind her cigarette. “She only suspects. Unless you unmask the evidence, such as your desire for me right now.”
Her touch still searing through him, he remembered her: Naked. On the bed. He looked over his shoulder to see whether Chiara had noticed anything, but without the mirror, he was disoriented and could not find her. When he faced Gina again, she had turned her attention to the inside of the casino.
“Gina.”
“Go to your wife,” she said, looking at him again. “You need her alliance just as much as you need your father’s leverage. If the tides turn in the Socialists favour, she is the one who will protect you. As for her demands on you, plead to her sensibilities. Admit that you have made mistakes. Not necessarily what they were, or why you made them, but just that you have. Make yourself vulnerable to her. She may be moved to save your soul.” Her smile teased him a little, but her grey eyes were solemn.
“Save my soul?”
“The Gleno is not the only thing you’ll have to pay penance for.”
She put out her cigarette, and Angelo looked for the men she’d abandoned for him. They had all drifted to a card game, including the general.
Turning back to him, she said in a low voice, “You are far from having beaten the Colonel, Angelo. Do what you must to ensure that you still can. Move cautiously. The web is thick. Remember that.”
***
O n the beach the next day, beneath the shade of an umbrella, the whispering waves and the hot sun had put Angelo to sleep. What woke him, he did not know. Perhaps his sisters nearby, for when he looked over at Chiara, she was engrossed in her reading in the chair next to him. She did not notice that he was awake, and his eyes roamed over her lean skin, pale and freckled.
He’d made love to her last night. Aroused by Gina at the casino, it had been easy, at least for him, and he believed that Chiara had also been surprised by a feeling of homecoming. Had they waited much longer, Angelo was sure there would have been nothing to salvage.
Francesca said something he couldn’t understand, and Cristina squealed. Laughing, his sisters sprang from their lounging chairs and chased each other into the water, all dark curls and long legs. Angelo laughed, and Chiara bent her paper so that she too could watch the girls. He reached out to touch her, still hungry for lovemaking.
She let him stroke her arm before saying, “Angelo, after this holiday, I’d like it if we could resolve our issues and be a family again.”
He nodded.
