The ship docked at the Port of Livorno, its massive hull gliding smoothly into place with a gentle lapping of waves against its sides. The passengers began to disembark, streaming down the gangway like a colorful, chattering river.
Marco and Dominic walked ahead, caught up in their never-ending discussion, leaving the youngsters behind.
Though they walked side by side, a noticable distance seperated them, a subtle reminder of the unresolved tension that lingered.
As they reached the dock, two sleek black cars waited, engines purring softly. The chauffeurs, dressed in crisp black uniforms, stood beside the cars, their eyes fixed attentively on the approaching group.
Salomé's sudden rush towards the reserved car left Giovanni standing alone, a melancholic pang echoing through his chest. His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, a look of resignation swirling in his eyes.
An inaudible sigh escaped his lips before he shook off the momentary distraction and made his way to the other vehicle.
The two men, oblivious to the thick tension that had settled between their children, halted mid-stride and turned to face each other, their eyes locking in a brief, charged moment.
"First car to get there?" Marco asked, his voice low and challenging.
Dominic smiled slyly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Has to wash the loser's feet for a week," he replied, his voice dripping with mock severity.
They stared at each other for a moment, their faces set in determined grins. Then, in perfect sync, they yelled: "Go!"
The chauffeurs, who had been watching the exchange with interest, nodded respectfully and slid into their respective driver's seats.
The cars' engines roared to life, and with a smooth, synchronized motion, they glided smoothly away from the dock, disappearing into the winding streets of Livorno.
Before long, both cars, one after the the other, pulled up in front of the luxurious Hotel Mediterraneo, its elegant facade gleaming in the sunlight.
The chauffeurs exited the vehicles and sprang into action, efficiently unloading the luggage as the group stepped out onto the pavement.
As they entered the hotel lobby, the warm glow of crystal chandeliers and gentle murmur of conversation enveloped them. With their arrangements already settled, they made their way to the elevator. The doors slid open, and they stepped inside, the soft hum of the elevator filling the air as they ascended.
"I'm stuck washing your feet, huh?" Marco sighed, resigning to his fate.
"Seems so." Dominic chuckled, his eyes glinting with triumph.
*
Salomé had just stepped out of the shower, and stood in front of the mirror, gently blotting her damp dark blue hair with a towel.
The sudden knock at the door startled her. Her eyes flicked towards the door, wondering who it could be at such an hour.
She placed the towel on her neck, her mind racing with possibilities. But of all, one especially stood out. She couldn't help but feel it was him. A flutter if anxiety danced in her chest as she made her way to the door.
She peered through the peephole, and her guess was right. Giovanni stood on the other side of the door, his eyes were cast downward and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked...nervous.
Salomé's instincts yelled for her to leave him standing there, to not face him. But a part of her, a small part, wanted to hear him out.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart and slowly turned the handle, opening the door to face him.
"Why-" her words were cut off short as he began to speak.
Giovanni stood straight, his eyes fixed on a point just above her head, his jaw clenched in a determined expression.
"I'm here to apologize," he said firmly, not a hint of emotion could be heard. "For last time. I acted out of line. I was wrong."
Salomé's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze piercing as she stared at his face. But Giovanni's gaze didn't waver, maintaining its position and not for once, meeting her eyes.
The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken emotions. Salomé's chest rose and fell with each slow breath, her eyes never leaving Giovanni's face. She was searching for something, she wasn't what, maybe an emotion of some sort.
There was none. His face was without expression and for some reason, this time, it made her angry.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Salomé spoke. "I accept your apology," she said, her voice firm but neutral.
She turned and closed the door behind her, leaving Giovanni standing alone in the hallway.
The sound of the door clicking shut was like a punctuation mark, a clear indication that the conversation was over.