Page 51 of That's Amore

She looked at me suspiciously.

“I have clothes.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “But…you probably want me to wear your stuff.” There was defeat in her demeanor, and I realized that I’d been a fucking asshole to my wife.

Disdain and condescension! Check.

“No matter what you wear, you look beautiful, Elysa. I’m”—I paused and took a deep breath and continued—“sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t dress yourself.”

Now that I said it out loud, I felt worse. It appeared that I would be apologizing to my wife frequently in the near future, and I needed to get used to it.

She frowned, obviously puzzled. She wasn’t the only one. I’d apologized more to her in the span of the past couple of hours than in my whole life to anyone.

“Ah…I’m going to…go.” She gestured vaguely to the bedroom and walked to it.

I left Elysa to unpack and take a shower, hoping the time alone would help her unwind after the tumultuous day she’d had. I, on the other hand, had no intention of relaxing. I was fuming.

I texted Lucia to meet me at the Terrazza delle Stelle, the hotel’s rooftop terrace.

The Palazzo del Tramonto was perched high on a hill that rolled gently into the distance, lined withvineyards as far as the eye could see. Every corner of the hotel felt deliberate, from the hand-painted frescoes in the main lobby to the seamless glass walls that framed the landscape like art.

The Terrazza delle Stelle—Terrace of the Stars—was one of its crown jewels, offering panoramic views of Piedmont’s countryside. Guests could sip rare wines beneath the open sky, exchange quiet words, or simply take in the endless horizon, where the world below seemed to fade away.

When I arrived, the late afternoon air was warm and heavy, and the faint scent of lavender drifted in from the nearby gardens.

The terrace was nearly empty at this hour, save for a small group of four seated at the far edge, their voices low and intimate over glasses of Arneis, the crisp white catching the sunlight. Thankfully, I didn’t know them—and I hoped they didn’t know me. I wanted privacy for what I had to say to Lucia, who joined me fifteen minutes after I got there.

I was already seated on one of the plush, ivory chaise lounges arranged beneath a pergola draped with climbing roses. A bottle of chilled white wine rested on the table in front of me, the condensation glistening on the glass. I looked up when she approached, and I wondered how nervous she was.

I gestured to the chair across from me.

“You picked a beautiful spot.” She sat, a big smile on her face.

I didn’t beat around the bush. “I wanted to talk to you about your conversation with my wife.”

“Dante, maybe we should do this in private,” she suggested as she looked around.

I didn’t look at her as I filled two glasses with Pinot Grigio.

I handed her a glass of wine. “This is private enough.”And I will not be alone in a room with you ever again.

She took the wine hesitantly and then tilted her head, studying me with those calculating eyes of hers. “Is that why you summoned me?”

I sipped the wine and took a moment to savor it. I set the glass down. “I’d like to understand why you thought you could talk to my wife the way you did on the train.”

Her smile faltered, but she recovered quickly, drinking some wine nonchalantly. “I talked to your wife like I always do.”

“Lucia, please don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” I ordered.

She swirled the wine in her glass as though she were debating how much to reveal. The faint bustle of the terrace filled the silence—the ring of glasses, the soft rustle of the evening breeze through the pergola. Beyond us, a path of stone steps led down into the gardens below, where the faint trickle of a fountain could be heard.

Finally, she sighed, setting the glass down with anexaggerated slowness. “Dante, I don’t know what Elysa told you, but all I did was ask her how she was doing since she was close to Don Giordano.”

“Did you insinuate to my wife that you and I are having an affair?”

She burst out laughing. “Of course not. I merely said to her that I was very impressed with how she was handling the divorce.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And why would you do that?”

“It’s a difficult time for both of you. I was merely offering support,” she said simply.

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