I slumped down in the chair beside the fire, disappointed by his dismissive tone.
The old man wasn’t going to help me, then, and I wasn’t the sort of person to try and break an elderly man’s hip, fighting to get away. Besides, there was something about Paolo that warned me he’d be a better fighter than I assumed. He might be old, but hewas solid and spry. There was real strength in his gnarled grip. While I was just me. As weak as always.
I sipped the tea and treasured the way the warm amber liquid slipped down my throat, soothing me from the inside out.
The day had turned gray outside, but inside this house, the warm, intimate atmosphere was only heightened by the darkness. I enjoyed the fire warming my side. The seat was velvet and overstuffed. I could close my eyes and sleep for a week, but I couldn’t afford to...
Because I didn’t know where I was or how I came to be here. Rationally, I should be more upset about that than I was, but there was part of me that was just resigned.
Confusion was something I felt instinctively used to, as sad as that was.
Also, there was something about this place that felt familiar. Not the house, or Paolo, or the view from the window, it was something else. The smell? That would be a weird thing to be used to. The man whom I woke up beside?
Yes. Him. There was something familiar about him. A thread I couldn’t stop pulling at to unravel the knots in my memory. He felt like the key to all of it. And while he was intimidating, terrifying, really, I wasn’t afraid of him.
I wandered around the room, taking in the rich, antique furnishings.
“Massimo had this entire place restored, brought it back from the dead. He stopped it all from being forgotten. Sometimes people ask to rent out the place, or to film TV shows here!” Paolo chuckled.
“I take it he never lets them?”
“Massimo is a private man. The most private I’ve ever met. You won’t catch him opening his home up to just anyone. In fact, you are the first woman he’s ever brought here.”
“Did he just move in?” I mused.
“No.”
Oh, okay. That knowledge made me feel odd inside, and I ignored it soundly.
I walked to a long sideboard and picked up one of the photos there. It was a group of men in military uniforms. They wore heavy helmets and sunglasses, but even then, I recognized Massimo. He was the tallest and broadest. While the rest were smiling for the camera, he was just straight-faced.
I set the frame down and glanced over the others. There was a picture of him at some kind of ceremony wearing a suit and collecting a medal.
Paolo appeared beside me. “For bravery. He was the only man, during a bombing at a school, to run back inside while the bombs were still falling.”
Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I saw him. Dressed in black, startling against a white backdrop, staring back at me for a moment before running into a burning building.
I set the photo down.
“He doesn’t like to remember the past too much, or his accomplishments, I guess, but I do. Since I’m the only person here most of the time, he humors me and lets me put up the frames.”
Next on the shelf was the medal, propped open in its box. The writing below the medal read:
Medaglia d’Oro al Valor Militare
Next to a name:
Massimo Lucciano
I stared at those words before my hand rose to my neck. I pulled the long chain out of the top of the cashmere sweater Paolo had given me and inspected the dog tags.
There it was.Massimo Lucciano. I’d noticed the necklace just a little while ago when I’d gotten dressed.
“Ah, his dog tags. I’m not surprised to see you wearing them,” Paolo said. “If he values you enough to bring you home, then he certainly values you enough to give you those. Now, are you hungry?”
I found myself nodding before I could help it.
Paolo beamed again.