“Destinies can be changed.” He looked up and smiled at me, his cheeks going pink. “Especially when they are connected to another’s.”
* * *
I had come to find that when it came to understanding Brando’s motives, I could be really late on the jump. I attributed this slowness to the fact that I was so caught up in him, I was blinded by him, even after all of this time.
Time did nothing to settle my feelings. Quite contrary. I felt even more than I ever had. Even walking to the pool to meet him made my stomach flutter with butterflies. But I was also a bit perturbed.
Submerged under the azure water, he glided underneath like a shark without a fin. I found the football he and Mick tossed to one another and threw it at his head. The water broke the ball’s impact, but it made enough of a splash to grab his attention. He came up gracefully, wiping water from his face. Subtle waves lapped against his waist, and droplets ran down his polished skin.
“You rang?” He smiled, and then he frowned. “What is it? What did I do?”
“What did you do?” I raised a brow at him. “Feeling guilty?”
“I know that look.”
“Tell me something.” I paced, keeping my voice level. “Remember the night you asked me to be your wife? Or, more precisely, told me that I was going to be your wife?”
“Vividly.”
“Good.” I nodded. “Let’s start there. Do you remember the deal we had? If you took the money from Luca Fausti, then I had to marry you.”
“We’re on the same page.”
He knew. I had figured it out.
“Why didn’t you TELL me? If you took the money from Luca, then he had you, didn’t he? Without all of this—” I waved a hand around, meaning all of the mess we were in.
Nemours was my bad—an unlucky incident from fate, messing things even further. I had figured out a part of it back then—accepting the money had been like accepting a gift from his devil—but the extent of it didn’t come close to anything imagined.
“You were going to accept the money knowing that you would be in his debt. And I would be a mobster’s wife! If that’s even the correct term! These people act like they’re royalty! If I’m to use the correct term, I’d be the Italian ‘prince’s’ wife!”
They were considered royalty, and not just in their beloved Italy. My husband was the son of one of the most notorious sons of Marzio Piero Fausti, one of the most ruthless leaders in their history himself.
“Would it have made a difference?” He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back.
“Would I have still married you, you mean?” I narrowed my eyes. “What if itwouldhave made a difference?”
“We had a deal.”
“Full disclosure, Fausti. There’s a loophole you didn’t consider. What if I want out now?”
“A little too late. You were always meant for me. I dare you to fucking try.”
“All right,” I admitted, knowing he had called my bluff. “Yes, I would have still married you.”
“I see no problem then.”
“Were you even going to tell me?”
“Eventually.”
“Eff, Brando! It just doesn’t seem like you to do something so…dangerous. And to have me around it.”
“This would’ve never happened if I had taken the money. I’d be in and you’d be free.”
“And the women? Would we be Rocco and Rosaria right now? Would we have a marriage without boundaries? And what about your role—Violet told me what she saw in that box, Brando. I know what they do, the reality of it. I felt it in that room. But to think of you in dangerandbeing a part of their ruthlessness…” My voice broke, and I used the residual anger as a shield.
He stood motionless, not even the water disturbed by his presence. It settled around him, like he was a perfectly carved statue made for the pool. After seconds ticked by, he glided toward me, taking my ankles in his hands when he reached the edge. I was so used to him, sometimes it shocked me just how much bigger he was than me. I was minuscule in comparison.
