Page 111 of Claimed
In my mind, I imagined Gianni and his brothers feasting with his mother. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Three. They were at the wedding. Don’t worry you will meet them today. Let’s see. There’s Stefan, he’s the oldest at forty. Then there’s Fabio, who’s thirty-five. I’m the next one in line, and then Corrado is the youngest at twenty-five.”
“She had a baby every five years?”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“She was from San Benedetto del Bosco. Have you ever heard of that place?”
“No.”
“It’s a small, secluded village nestled in the hills of central Italy. Surrounded by forests. Tons of centuries-old stone houses with rooftops covered in moss.”
“Sounds timeless.”
“Every time I go. . .I feel that way.” He looked off in the distance. “Anyway, San Benedetto del Bosco is a place where superstition runs deep, passed down through generations like sacred lore. The villagers still leave offerings of bread and wine at the foot of oak trees, believing that the spirits of the forest will protect their homes.”
I sat there, completely captured by his words.
“Once when we visited my grandmother there, she told me that the church bell, which rings at midnight every full moon, wards off all the evil forces that lurk in the surrounding woods.” He looked at me. “My grandmother was known as astrega—a wise woman believed to possess otherworldly knowledge. Long ago, my father’s father would fly to this village to consult with her, before making any important decisions.”
“Oh. Is that how your father met your mother?”
Gianni nodded. “That is how. He saw her tons of times as kids where they would run off and play. But as they grew up, those visits changed to heart filled ones where they would sneak off and do what teens do.”
My heart warmed from the story.
“I remember. . .” He looked back off in the distance. “My grandmother would have these red ribbons tied to her doorway. Bundles of herbs would be hanging in her windows to protect against the evil eye.”
He went silent for a few minutes and then cleared his throat. “Anyway, my grandmother told her that she should wait every five years to guarantee a healthy pregnancy, and uh. . .”
“What?”
“She wanted a little girl.”
“But she never had one.”
“She did.” This sad expression fell over his face. “I was a. . .twin.”
I blinked, and that was when I remembered him talking about being a twin at the reception yesterday.
“I had a twin sister named, Genny.”
My voice went low. “Had?”
I sat there, my hand still in his, watching as Gianni's gaze drifted off into the distance.
There was something in his eyes—a shadow that fell over him when he mentioned his twin.
The air between us turned heavy.
I squeezed his hand gently, hoping to pull him back from whatever dark place his mind had gone.
He cleared his throat, almost as if to steady himself before continuing. “It was summer and. . .we were ten. My parents took us to this small coastal town in Italy for vacation. I don’t even like to. . .”
I quirked my brows.
