Chapter Eleven
Scarlett
The two brothers eyed each other with enough suspicion that it was almost comical, though there was nothing remotely hilarious about the situation. Each brother stood the same height, had an almost identical build, and when their eyes turned serious with intent, men became lethal beasts.
Brando and Rocco were like two lions prepping for a fight over a piece of the Serengeti.
Then, every so often, their eyes would burn with some recognition of the other—perhaps Brando noticed that their noses were the same shape, or Rocco noticed that, below the skin, their bones held both the regal and rugged history of their ancestry.
Rocco had left the door slightly ajar when he came out to greet me. He turned his mouth, not his eyes, and a sharp command flew out in Italian.
Three men came at his call, all wearing suits with suspenders. All fit to become the next Italian muscle man. I noticed that they, too, couldn’t help looking between Brando and Rocco, probably seeing what everyone else saw all along.
Rocco shot off more commands. I caughtmoglie, his tone less than friendly. Not long after, Rosaria Caffi strode out. The look on her face told me that she had witnessed the entire exchange from the comfort of her window. She opened her mouth to speak, but before the words were out, Rocco turned on her, forcing her against the wall. His face was a kiss away, and his powerful fingers wrapped around her throat, minuscule in his presence, though she wasn’t a short woman.
He spoke in Italian, slow and poetic sounding, but I was able to catch a few words.Mio fratello.My brother.Il mio sangue.My blood.Non mi hai detto.You didn’t tell me.
Rosaria couldn’t respond because of his hold around her throat. He glanced at me for a brief second, and then he said something to her that made a slow smile come to her face. She didn’t look afraid. She looked…turned on. He bit at her nose and promised herlater.
“Ah,” Rocco breathed, turning back to us. “It seems we have business to discuss.” He looked at me but spoke to his brother.
“Seems that way,” Brando said.
Rocco and Rosaria entered the castle together, Brando and I right behind them. My heels tapped on the marble floors. The house was cool, the air smelled of cherries, and my eyes narrowed in reflection to all of the crimson and gold. It was also filled with at least fifteen men, all of them similar in looks to the first three, and they watched us carefully as we walked. Those suits were so familiar—the cut of them. Even down to the cologne that lingered.
Brando pulled me to his side. More in a show of male proprietary, I thought. It wasn’t an act born out of tenderness. There was a distinct feeling of possessiveness to it.
Rocco must have noticed the men’s stares. He waved a hand and told them,leave us. It sounded ominous, powerful, and for the first time I felt a stab of fear.Why were those men afraid of Rocco?
The men, who mostly stood around eating, took their food and disappeared.
Rocco led us through the expansive compound—it must have been at least ten thousand square feet—and then through a door that led to a glass-enclosed room that housed numerous, and probably highly valuable, Ferraris. A showroom.
Rosaria took my hand and led me to a set of four red-leather and chrome stools. Brando and Rocco stood before a curved line of cars, face to face, just enough space for me to fit in between.
Dear God, side by side, it’s the same carving but separated by two bodies and different colored eyes.
Rocco began the conversation in Italian. “Sapevate che condividiamo sangue?”Did you know that we share blood?
Brando shook his head.No.
Rocco: Father never mentioned it?
Brando (responding in Italian): Never. You?
Rocco: Never. Do you understand what goes on here?
Brando: I am well informed.
Rocco: Do you race, my brother?
Brando: That is a term earned from respect. I am nothing more to you than an enemy.
“We agree.” Rocco nodded at this, thinking it over. “A wager then. If respect is earned.”
“Give me the game.”
At this point, the conversation lapsed back into English. Though Rocco asked the questions, Brando set the tone.
