The Giuoco Piano

Chapter 54 - Dead End

"When I began to talk with him, I could not help thinking that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise by many, and still wiser by himself."

Apology ― Plato 

Stefano is sitting at the head of the table when Marlena walks into the dining room. She is wearing a fitted satin evening dress in dark purple with a mermaid skirt. Silver and purple beading around the straps and down the edges of the low-cut back glitter in the low lamplight and flickering candlelight. Her hair is pinned up, her eyes smoky and her lips painted a striking dark pink.

Diamonds sparkle at her throat and her ears and the rose and amber scent she wears shimmers around her like a cloud. Her feet are covered by the hem of the dress, and she must hold the skirt up as she walks. Each step reveals a flash of purple slingback peep-toe heels which are stitched with the same silver and purple beading as her dress.

Stefano stops reading the document in his hands and looks up as she enters. He regards her for a long moment, taking the time to appraise and appreciate her appearance. The purple underlines the regal elegance of her bearing and he thinks for a moment he should have had her wear a tiara. Then he smiles to himself. That indeed would be a little overkill for a mere dinner date. But she is his Queen, after all, and he will spend the rest of his life accentuating her beauty in every way he can.

"Ah, Marlena. You look every bit as exquisite as I imagined you would." He places the papers on the table and stands. She says nothing as he walks toward her, drinking her in with his gaze. She is perfection, her beauty and her intelligence are unparalleled. And her strength. He has never known anyone as strong and as resilient as she is. When planning this intrigue, he had half expected her to crumble partway through. He had certainly never imagined she might kill a mob kingpin like Moretti. Or that she might take such pleasure from seducing the beautiful Lidiya Vassilieva.

He almost regrets setting her this last task. Almost, but not quite. This melody he planned, although complex, was a simple set of tasks, of possibilities. Beneath her touch, it has become a symphony, and he has fallen more deeply in love with her during every stage. She is exquisite, not just in her beauty and her stature but in every aspect. In her fiery devotion to her children and her family. In her stubborn refusal to give up. In her ability to make a success of any terrible situation. In her laser-sharp intelligence.

And now with this last challenge he has set her, she will prove once and for all that she is his. She is as single-minded in her protection and love for her family as he is in his pursuit of her. And one day soon, she will love him like that, with that determined devotion. He will hand her the world on a platter, and she will devote herself to him, to building their kingdom, their empire. With her at his side, he will be unbeatable.

"Come," he pushes out his chair and stands to pull out the chair to his right. Then he walks toward her, holding out his hand.

She says nothing, but he is pleased that she takes his hand without comment, without so much as a flinch. Her skin is warm and soft against his and he feels a shimmer of greedy desire run through him at her closeness. He desperately wants to take her in his arms, to bury his nose in her honey gold hair, to nuzzle at her neck, smelling the floral earthiness of her. He wants to taste her skin, feel her lips against his, her tongue in his mouth.

He clears his throat as he shakes himself out of the sudden ardor that swamps him, and he leads her to the table. Still wordless, she lowers herself into the chair and he pushes it toward the table. Then he places his large, powerful hands on her shoulders, the rough feeling of the beading on her dress contrasting with the softness of her golden, freckle-spattered skin.