“Charlotte did this.” His eyes scanned over my face, taking in every bump and bruise, lingering over the busted lip. Good thing he couldn’t see what hid underneath clothes. I was pretty sure that my back had grown a swollen hump.
“Well,” I said, almost dangling from his grip. I felt foolish, like a busted-up rag doll. “She tripped me, but the stairs actually did the damage.”
He took a deep breath out of his nose, about to breathe fire. “We need to get the rest of our things,” he said, matter of fact.
“No! Let’s have Guido and Nino get the rest of our things. I just got here!” I kicked some and he set me down, but he had taken my hand in his, already pulling me toward his old truck. “Brando!”
“Get in the fucking truck, Scarlett.”
He opened the door, and in direct sunlight, I caught the wince he tried to hide. Catching sight of myself in the side mirror, I winced, too. Either I had been in the ring with a prizefighter, or my husband had abused me—that was going to be the rumor at the gossip mill tomorrow, if I made any public appearances.
Sighing, I put a tentative hand to the bulge formerly known as my lip.You didn’t want to leave the house anyway, I reminded myself. Not entirely the point though.
“Brando,” I said, blinking up at him. He looked down at me, unexpressive, keeping his arm on the door. “Can we stay home? I don’t want to go back. I just got here.”
“This is our home, Scarlett,” he said, with more forbearance than he truly had at that point in time. “It has a door, made to open and close, for going in and out. We’ll be right back.”
“Give me your word.” I held tight to his shirt. “We’re only going to get our bags.” My camera! Damn. I hoped she didn’t smash it to pieces.
He lifted me up, setting me in the truck, and shut the door. He gave Guido and Nino instructions to follow. He put the truck in reverse, deftly moving backward, until he was far enough to take a left and go grill-forward out of our driveway. He took his time on the road, careful of each turn, acting as though we were taking a scenic drive through town.
This scared me most of all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brando
I couldn’t bear to look at her. Guilt ate me up like acid. In my selfish attempt to get her home, to see her walk through those doors without a fight, I had left her to the wolves, and I wasn’t there when she had been attacked. Whenwhat ifcame throughmy thoughts—her neck, her bones—
The stairs at her parents’ place were high and steep, and it was a miracle that she looked as good as she did, all things considered. If “looking fucking good” included bruises covering the expanse of her face, along with a busted lip and who knew what hid beyond her clothes.
“Brando,” she whispered, staring at her hands. A bruise had blossomed above her knuckles. It looked like she had punched an iron wall. Her skin was perfect, but it almost looked too thin, and she bruised so easily. “You’re scaring me.”
I took her left hand and placed a gentle kiss above her wedding rings, feeling the air from my nose blow hot against her skin. Her fingers were cool, and each of her bones could be traced, the shapes so apparent. “I’m sorry, baby.” I hoped the apology covered a multitude of sins—for leaving, for not being there, for future premeditated peccadillos to be committed.
Guido and Nino stuck close, and before long, we were turning into her parents’ long driveway. Tension seeped from her side of the truck, and to dispel some of it, I kissed her hand again before parking the truck.
She went to get out, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Stay here.”
“Brando—”
The crackle of more wheels made her turn to look. Romeo and Juliette pulled up behind Guido and Nino. Romeo hopped out of the car, flinging his glasses off, setting them on top of his head. Juliette rushed out behind him, coming to the truck, attempting to hide the shock when she saw Scarlett’s face. Romeo appraised her with eyes blazing.
Guido must’ve made a phone call or two. Later, or soon, I’d be receiving calls from the entirefamiglia.
Juliette’s presence was needed; she took Scarlett’s attention away from me.
Sampson and Delilah announced our arrival. Mitch came out of the door right after, followed by Pnina.
Mitch nodded at me, going for the truck to check on Scarlett.
“How is she?” Pnina asked, stopping me. “She left before we could even check on her.”
I nodded toward the truck. “See for yourself.”
While Scarlett waved off the issue to her mother’s face, I had the men gather around. I ordered Guido and Nino to start gathering our things.
Scarlett took two things with her wherever she went: the music box I had given her before she left for Paris—which I had already taken to the house on Snow—and her camera. I ordered Guido to hide the bag with the camera underneath another in case Charlotte noticed the bulge.
