“Don’t be upset with Guido. It’s obvious your parents’ big surprise is important to him and to them.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Twenty-one hours one way takes a lot of fuel. Round-trip means thousands more dollars being paid out from the public coffers. It isn’t right.”
She sat back while she sipped her coffee. “I agree, and I admire your desire to change the dynamics of the L’Accardi family’s spending habits. But for now, why don’t we decide to be Jack and Jill, two normal people who got married on a whim, and have just been given a windfall from their oil-rich uncle in Texas who wants to make us happy.”
“Oil?”
“Why not? When we return to civilization, that’s the time to start trimming the budget.”
When she didn’t think it was possible, he chuckled. “Jack and Jill, eh?”
She nodded. “One of the American girls from Texas at the boarding school had the name Jill, and her brother’s name was Jack.”
By now his eyes were smiling. “I’ll go along with that idea. What do you say we go to one of the bedrooms and watch a movie where we can be comfortable?”
Each bedroom had a built-in theater. She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’ll find my suitcase and change my clothes.”
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I’m sorry you’re not able to show off that lovely white outfit in Paris.”
A warm smile broke out on her face. “Don’t be.” She wouldn’t forget the way he’d stared at her when he walked out on the terrace earlier that morning. Christina had seen a glint of genuine male appreciation in his eyes that brought her great pleasure. “We’ll do Paris one of these days.”
Feeling his gaze on her retreating back, she walked through the compartment and found the bedroom where both their cases had been placed. She took hers and crossed the hall into the other bedroom.
After putting it on the queen-size bed, she found a pair of lightweight pants in dusky blue and a filmy long-sleeved shirt with a floral pattern of light and dark blues combined with pink. It draped beautifully against her body to the hips.
The white suit went in the closet before she slipped into her casual clothes and put on bone-colored leather sandals. After removing the pearl tipped sticks from her hair, she exchanged the pearl studs for gold earrings mounted with star-shaped blue sapphire stones. As she was applying a fresh coat of lipstick, she heard a knock on the door.
“Antonio?”
He opened it but didn’t enter. “Come on over to the other bedroom when you’re ready.”
Her heart started to thud. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
* * *
Antonio had changed into jeans and a sport shirt. Normally he would have put on the bottoms of a pair of sweats and nothing else for the twenty-one-hour flight. But out of consideration for Christina, he needed to make his way carefully for this journey into the unknown. Their honeymoon was in the process of becoming a fait accompli.
He’d experienced two heart attacks already: one at the altar when his fiancée appeared in her white wedding dress and lace veil. The other attack happened this morning when he first saw her on the terrace ready for their trip to Paris wearing a stunning white outfit. When he heard her call out his name just now, he should have known to brace himself for the third attack.
“Enter if you dare,” he teased. Antonio had stretched out on the bed with his head and back propped against the headboard using a pillow for a buffer.
“Ready or not,” she countered, and came into the room. The incredibly beautiful woman dressed in blue appeared, and the sight almost caused him to drop the remote. With her shiny hair, she lit up any room she entered. How could he have ignored her for so long? The few phone calls and visits to her had been made out of duty. The busy life he’d been leading in California had included hard work and one certain woman when he had the time.
Thoughts of his future marriage for the good of the country had only played on the edge of his consciousness, as did the woman who’d been thousands of miles away in Kenya. He couldn’t go back and fix things, but he could shower her with attention now. They didn’t know each other well yet, but had made a start last night when their passion ignited.
Antonio recognized that he needed to treat her the way he would any beautiful woman he’d just met and wanted to get to know much better. He patted her side of the bed. “Come and join me. We have a choice of five films without my having to move from this spot.”
She laughed and pulled a pillow out from under the quilt. The next thing he knew she’d thrown it at the foot of the bed and lain down on her stomach so she could watch the screen located on the other side of the bedroom. “Why don’t you start the one you’d like to see without telling me what it is?” she said over her shoulder.
Christina made an amazing sight with those long legs lying enticingly close to him. “What if you don’t like it?”
“I like all kinds of movies and will watch it because I want to know what makes my husband tick.”
His heart skipped a beat. “You took the words out of my mouth.” He clicked to the disk featuring a Neapolitan Mafia gangster film. “I only saw part of this when it first came out.”
“I’m sure I haven’t seen it. Italian films are hard to come by when you’re out in the bush. This is fun!”
He found it more than fun to be watching it with the woman he’d just married. She made the usual moans and groans throughout. When it concluded she turned on her side and propped her head to look back at him. “I heard that the Camorra Mafia from Naples was the inspiration for that film. Were there really a hundred gangs, do you think?”
“I do.”
“Did any cross the water into our country?”
“Three families that we know of.”
“Do they still exist?”
“Yes, but were given Halencian citizenship at a time when our borders were more porous. They’re no longer a problem. What I’m concerned about is creating high-tech jobs. Tourism and agriculture alone aren’t going to sustain our growing population. I have many plans and have been laying the groundwork to establish software companies and a robotics plant, all of which can operate here to build Halencian industry.”
“So that’s what you’ve been doing in San Francisco all these years. No wonder you didn’t come home often.”
“Are you accusing me of being a workaholic?”
Her eyelids narrowed. “Are you?”
“I make time to play.”
“Since I won’t be able to go to sleep for a long time, what can I do for you, my husband?”
“How about reading to me?”
The question pleased her no end. “You’d like that?”
“I saw a book in your suitcase. Have you read it already?”
“I’m in the middle of it.”
“What’s it called?”
“Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton. He wrote about South Africa and the breakdown of the tribal system. It’s not the part of Africa I know, but it’s so wonderful I’m compelled to finish the book.”
“I never got around to reading it,” he said.
“Tell you what. I’ll read you the blurb on the flyleaf. If it interests you, I’ll read from the beginning until you fall asleep.”
“I’m