Page 129 of Thorns of Death
“Signore Paganini, thank you for seeing us so early,” I greeted him.
Isla’s eyes landed curiously on the store owner. “Paganini. As in… Niccolò Paganini?”
The old man grinned. “That was my great-great grandfather.”
“No!”
“Sì, he was.”
Isla clapped her hands. “And you?” she questioned, taking two steps to get closer to him. “What do you play? Or do you compose?”
Signore Paganini chuckled goodheartedly. “I only listen. I’m afraid that gene skipped me.”
My wife’s face fell, disappointment washing over her. “What a bummer.”
The old man’s face twisted in confusion, and I explained in Italian that it was just an expression.
“No matter,” Signore Paganini exclaimed. “I’ve heard you play. And I have just the thing for you.”
The old man scurried away, and we waited while my blood pumped with adrenaline. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on her face when she saw it. Signore Paganini was back in no time with a case.
“Per te.”
When she gave me a confused look, I translated. “For you,amore. Your wedding gift.”
She shook her head. “But I didn’t get you anything.”
“You did,” I assured her. “More than you’ll ever know. Now make me an even happier man and open your gift.”
Slowly, Isla took the case and placed it on the nearby table. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it, and a gasp filled the air. Her mouth opened and closed several times before words came out.
“I don’t understand,” she breathed.
“It’s a violin that used to belong to Niccolò Paganini,” I told her softly. “I know how much you love your violins and this was the fastest way to get you one.”
“And I’m grateful. I really am. But I can’t go without my own violin,” she muttered. “It’s a part of me, and it’d be like replacing one of my limbs.”
It made sense. Everything I’d heard about musicians told me this was the case.
“We’re still going to get this one, but I’ll have your other violin brought in.”
Her eyes darted from me to Signore Paganini, then back to me. “But… but… it’s too much. I couldn’t.” She found Signore Paganini’s gaze. “This belongs to your family. I can’t take something so meaningful.”
Signore Paganini grinned. “Your husband bought it, it’s yours.” Her eyes widened and her head whipped in my direction.
“Why?” she breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I have plenty of instruments. And this one… I couldn’t. It’s too much.”
“It’s my gift,amore. You won’t refuse me. Will you?”
Signore Paganini must have been worried I’d ask for my two million back if she refused it, because he chimed in. “I wouldn’t sell it to just anyone, Signora Marchetti. In your beautiful hands, the instrument will make music again.”
Her delicate fingers traced the wooden grains of the violin. She wanted it, I could tell, but something was holding her back. I motioned for Signore Paganini to give us a minute, and he disappeared in the back.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her, coming up behind her and wrapping my hands around her waist. I kept an eye on the glass display across us to ensure no threat came from behind. Certain habits were hard to kill. “Don’t you like it?”
“I love it,” she murmured. “I just don’t feel comfortable receiving such an expensive gift without having one to give you in return,” she admitted softly.
I leaned closer, my mouth nibbling on her earlobe. “You’ve given me more than I can ever repay,piccolina.” She jutted her ass, brushing against my pelvis. “But if you insist, you can give me my gift tonight. In our bedroom.”
