The Villa

careful. That family keeps you in diapers. Let's go outside."
    "You go to hell." She rammed Sophia hard against Don. "You, and all of you." Her voice spiked, causing several heads to turn. Sophia managed to drag her to the doorway of the ballroom before she broke free.
    "If you cause a scene here," Sophia said, "it'll cost you as much as the rest of us. Your children are Giambelli. Remember it."
    Gina's lip quivered, but she lowered her voice. "You remember it. You both remember it, and that what I do, I do for them."
    "Don. Damn it. Go after her, calm her down."
    "I can't. She won't listen." He moved behind the doors, took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty brow. "She's pregnant again."
    "Oh." Torn between relief and annoyance, Sophia patted his arm. "Congratulations."
    "I didn't want another child. She knew. We fought about it. Then she tells me tonight, as we're dressing and the children are screaming and my head's bursting. She expects me to be thrilled, and when I'm not, she rips at me."
    He shoved the cloth back in his pocket.
    "I'm sorry. Really. Very sorry, but impressions tonight are vital. Whether or not you're happy about this, you have to fix it. She's pregnant, vulnerable and her hormones are raging. Added to that, she didn't get in that condition by herself. You need to go to her."
    "I can't," he said again. "She won't speak to me now. I was upset. All during the evening she sulked or reminded me it was God's will, a blessing. I needed to get away from her. Five precious minutes away from that nagging. So I slipped out to make a phone call. I called—There's another woman."
    "Oh, perfect." She didn't bother to curse. "Isn't that just perfect."
    "I didn't know Gina followed me. Didn't know she'd overheard. She waited until I was back inside to confront me, to accuse, to claw. No, she won't speak to me now."
    "Well, you both picked your moment."
    "Please, I know what I have to do, and I will. Promise me you won't tell Zia Tereza of this."
    "Do you think I'd go running to Nonna like a tattletale?"
    "Sophie. I didn't mean it that way." Relieved at her angry claim not to be a gossip, he took her hands. "I'll fix it. I will. If you could just go after Gina now, convince her to behave, to be patient. Not to do anything rash. Already with the investigation I'm under such pressure."
    "This isn't about you, Donato." She pulled her hands away. "You're just one more man who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. But it is about Giambelli. So I'll do what I can with Gina. For once, she actually has my sympathy. And you will fix it. You'll break it off with the other woman and deal with your marriage and your children."
    "I love her. Sophie, you understand what it is to be in love."
    "I understand you have three children and another on the way. You'll be responsible to your family, Donato. You'll be a man, or I'll personally see you pay for it. Capisce?"
    You said you wouldn't go to La Signora . I trusted you."
    "La Signora isn't the only Giambelli woman who knows how to deal with cheats and liars. Or cowards. Cacasotto."
    He went white. "You're too hard."
    "Try me, and you'll see just how hard. Now, be smart. Go back in and smile. Announce to your aunt that you're about to bring another Giambelli into the world. And stay away from me until I can stand the sight of you again."
    She left him there, quivering with rage. Hard, she thought. Maybe. And maybe part of her rage had been directed at her father, another cheat, another liar, another father who ignored his responsibilities.
    Marriage, she thought, meant nothing to some. No more than a game whose rules were broken for the thrill of it. She hurried through the family wing, but found no sign of Gina.
    Idiot woman, she decided, and was unsure who she disliked more at the moment, Gina or Donato.
    She called out quietly, peeked into the nursery where the children and the young woman hired to tend them for the evening slept.
    Thinking Gina might have taken her rage outside, she stepped out on the terrace. Music from the quartet drifted out into the night.
    She wished she could drift herself, just leave it all to work itself out. Enraged wives, straying husbands. Cops and lawyers and faceless enemies. She was tired of it, all of it.
    She wanted Ty. She wanted to dance with him with her head on his shoulder and all her worries in someone else's brain for a few hours.
    Instead she ordered herself to go back and do what needed to be done.
    She heard a faint sound from