Sweet Temptation(74)

She wasn’t what I’d wanted in a wife, but hell, if she wasn’t exactly what I needed.





“Is Dad a bad man?”

I almost fell off the ladder, my breath lodging in my throat. Daniele had said one or two words at the most in the two weeks since his birthday, and now he chose the morning before Christmas Eve for a loaded question like that. I waited for my initial shock to fade before I hung up another ornament on our Christmas tree. Then I slowly climbed down.

Daniele sat among the boxes with Christmas decorations, which I’d bought because I worried Gaia’s old things would bring back too many hurtful memories, while Simona ripped apart the silver tinsel that she discovered in one of them.

I sat down beside Daniele, searching his face. He was spinning a red ornament on the floor, watching it with a little frown. Loulou had dashed off the moment Elia had carried the tree into the living room this morning and refused to go anywhere near it. “Who’d tell you something like that?” It couldn’t be something he had decided for himself. He was too young.

“Mom.” His voice was a fluttering whisper and my heart ached hearing it. He still didn’t look at me, only at the ornament.

“What did she say?”

“That Dad’s bad. That he hurt Andrea and that made Mom sad.”

I bit my lip, trying to decide what to say. I bid my time by taking a piece of tinsel out of Simona’s mouth, which led to an angry cry, but I was too distracted to react. Put off by my lack of reaction, she fell silent.

Daniele lifted his eyes, meeting my gaze head-on. He trusted me enough to ask me this question, a question that must have weighed heavily on his thin shoulders in all these months. The truth was out of the question. And if I was being honest, I wasn’t sure how to answer his question truthfully. All I knew was Daniele deserved a happy childhood after everything he’d gone through. Lies were a slippery slope that eventually made you stumble. “Your uncle betrayed your dad. He ran away because he didn’t want to be punished for his mistake. That hurt your mom very much. She wasn’t herself after your uncle left her. That’s why she didn’t know what she was saying, Daniele. Your dad does everything to protect you and Simona because he loves you. He’d never hurt you or your sister.”

“He didn’t hurt Mom?”

“No,” I whispered. It was the truth and a lie. A lie that would help our family heal. Some lies we told others to protect them or ourselves; others we told ourselves for the same reason. Today’s lie was a bit of everything.

“You?”

“He doesn’t hurt me either.”

Simona crawled toward the tree and made a move as if to drag herself to her feet with a branch. I jumped to my feet and quickly snatched her away then carried her over to Daniele. “Will you keep watch over her?”

He nodded, and I put her in his lap. He hugged her to his body, and she seemed content for the moment. “You see,” I said softly. “You want to protect Simona, and I want to protect you, and your dad wants to protect all of us.”




After I was done decorating, the kids and I went into my paint room. As had been our routine over the last couple of weeks, both children got brushes, watercolors, and paper so they could entertain themselves while I finished the painting I’d started for Cassio. It was almost done. I wasn’t quite happy with the spray on the waves rolling onto the beach. They needed to appear more vivid. I wanted Cassio to smell the ocean air and feel the refreshing breeze when he saw it. He had a photo of the exact same view in our bedroom, but I hoped he’d love a canvas.

Loulou sniffed at the door, but she kept running over the paper and through the paint pots, spreading colorful pawprints everywhere, so she wasn’t allowed inside anymore.

Daniele dragged the brush over the sheet, creating blue lines, as if he, too, was painting the ocean.

I put down my brush and walked over to him. He didn’t look up as I sank down beside him. Simona hit the floor with her own paintbrush over and over again, splattering paint everywhere. My overalls and bare feet were already covered in a myriad of colors. Daniele had returned to his quiet self after our conversation this morning, pondering what I said. I wished I could glimpse into his head.

“Your dad would love a painting of the ocean for Christmas. Why don’t you give it to him?”

Daniele dipped the brush into the blue paint and continued drawing jerky lines. “Okay,” was his soft reply.

“Nothing would make your dad happier than spending time with you and hearing your voice again.”

Kissing Daniele’s temple, I rose to my feet and returned to my canvas.




We hosted Christmas Eve dinner for the family. Luckily, Sybil cooked most of the feast. Even Ilaria and her husband came over with their kids. Mia was still heavily pregnant. I had a feeling she’d get a Christmas baby, and I could tell that she desperately wanted to give birth. Mia’s and Ilaria’s kids were more boisterous than Daniele, but they got along well, despite Daniele’s selective muteness. When we settled at the table for dinner, one topic was definitely off-limits: Gaia. I didn’t mind. Too much of her presence still lingered within these walls.

Mansueto watched Cassio and me like a hawk. He was obviously protective of his son. “When are you going to bless us with another grandchild?”