He looked me up and down, a slow roam that had a stronger power than the champagne and warm air. His hand joined the journey of his eyes.
“Amo questo colore su di te,” he whispered.I love this color on you.
Juliette had picked out varying shades of purple, and mine was close to mauve. The material flowed nicely in the wind, and the arms were draped—really romantic.
“I can move in this dress, too,” I said, keeping my eyes low, my voice even lower.
“Dance with me,” he said, using his finger to lift my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. Before I could answer him, he took my champagne and set it on a passing silver platter, and then led me to the dance floor.
Brando was tall and lean, nothing but pure muscle, but the man could move. He didn’t flail, and he didn’t make a move that wasn’t sensual. He wasn’t trained, but he had the right rhythm, and his moves were a clue to his bedroom mojo.
Out of all the men I had ever danced with, he was my favorite partner. He made me feel what no one else could, and in terms of dancing, I had journeyed the entire spectrum.
I had no idea how long we were out on the dance floor, but long enough for me to feel flushed, as if I was Ginger Rogers and Brando was Fred Astaire, both of us dancing on air while the stars twinkled in a vast, black-velvet sky.
A slow song took the faster rhythms’ place, and our steps followed the rhythm.
“Nice moves, Fausti,” I breathed against his lips when he lowered his forehead to meet mine. I refused to close my eyes, not wanting to miss a second.
Even lost in my husband, I felt the intrusion beforehemade it to us. His sudden appearance was going to put an end to Brando’s mood. It was rare that he was this way, not feeling the burdens of life, and in return, keeping the shield up to protect us both. But this was going to cause some strife, and I had no idea why he chose that moment to interrupt.
At the tap on his shoulder, Brando stiffened. Livio. Brando and his brothers didn’t want to invite him, but we—the women—wanted to invite Cerise, and since she had chosen to invite him as her plus one, the situation became awkward.
I reminded Brando that even though he would be there, it would be all right. I had forgiven him long ago for putting his hands on me after Spataro had abducted me.
It wasn’t just that Livio had put his hands on me—he had done it to prove to Spataro and Enzo that he was one of them—it waswherehe had hit me. Right in the gut, where he knew I was sensitive after Nemours had hit me in the precise same spot and took the life of our son.
I had felt it in that moment, the resentment and the anger. His wife had died, and I hadn’t. Though I had warned him, and so did Brando, that something felt off before he had married Santina, he had accepted the responsibility willingly.
Looking back, I still remembered, but I had found it in my heart to forgive him. Livio had been through a lot. Raised in an orphanage from a young age, among strangers, then to being taken in by Marzio, who created a life full of danger and opulence—he had been enchanted by the life until he paid the ultimate price for it. He had lost his wife. Santina had been his first chance at establishing something that was his, and she had been taken from him much too soon.
Cerise had somehow blown down all of his defenses, whether with her personality, or by growling alone, I wasn’t too sure. He wanted to be accepted into the family again, though if he was turned down, it wouldn’t shatter him the same way it would’ve before.
“I—” Livio swallowed hard, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “I mean, Judas—” he gave me a knowing smile “—would like to cut in?”
Brando—who was tall and much wider than Livio—was formidable, and sometimes I was thankful that I wasn’t a man just for the fact that I would never have to face him in that particular arena. I had seen what his presence alone could do. He could make a man move without touching him. His fists seemed lethal.
That being said, I didn’t want a fight in my honor, not today,not ever, but I also didn’t want to dance with him either. My stomach clenched at the thought. Setting my hands on each of Brando’s arms, I restrained him, silently pleading with him to remember where we were.
Cerise stood off to the side, her eyes hard on the scene, but her hands twisted around each other.
“I can see that is a no,” Livio said, and his face overwent a transformation. He could go from affable to hard in under a second.
Whatever he saw on Brando’s face, he attempted to match with his own fierce reaction. Livio had lived rough for a while. He wasn’t the same man that we had known. But I could see that he was trying to find middle ground. To live amongst the living, but still keep the sharp edges that kept most people at bay.
I wanted to intervene, to say that I would dance with him, but I couldn’t find the words. Perhaps, somehow, I could bridge the gap. In time. If I couldn’t forget, how was Brando ever going to be able to forgive?
Brando hadn’t spoken a word, and neither had Livio, but somehow they were speaking to each other without words. The intensity of it made my hands tremble.
Livio nodded once. “Così sia.”So be it.Then he turned, almost knocking a woman over behind him, and cut through the crowd, using his sharp edges to keep people out of his way.
Cerise put up a hand to stop him, but he blazed right past her. She had a helpless look on her face, and then it changed into determination. I had seen that look on her before, when she couldn’t conquer a dance move.
“Brando…” I said, my voice full of warning, as she charged toward us.
She stopped suddenly, her dress flaring forward, and glared at Brando through a thick fringe of blonde lashes.
“Il essaie!” she said through clenched teeth, attempting to keep her voice down. She didn’t have to worry. It was low on level, but high on growl. She turned on her heel, chin up, and then tromped off (for a ballerina) through the crowd, probably in search of Livio.
