“It’s a wool cardigan,” I corrected. “And I’m not sure. He’s…a bit different, for her. Seems nice enough though.”
He jingled our hands for a moment before he told me to show him the next surprise. He appraised the land in an approving way as we made our way, and when we came to the pool, he grinned. The lowering sun danced over the aqua water, almost calling to us with its cool magic.
I should have been suspicious when he took the handkerchief off my head and threw it on a nearby lounge chair, and when he kicked his boots off, but I was too busy enjoying the moment. He lifted me in his arms and all I could manage was “BRAN—!” before we were both submerged in blissful coolness.
When we surfaced, me still in his arms, I spluttered, trying to talk and catch my breath. “Water got your tongue, Ballerina Girl?” He laughed, floating me around the pool like an exotic shark.
“You could have takenmyboots off first!” I splashed water at him.
He instructed me to lift my feet, and he removed boots and socks, setting them on the rim of the pool.
“This is nice,” I said, wiggling my free toes above water, relaxing in his arms. I closed my eyes, breathing easily, drifting. “This is heaven.”
“Yeah, the water is nice.”
“That’s not what I was referring to,” I said, my voice as weightless as my body. “I meant being with you.”
He was silent for a while until he cleared his throat. “Thank you, baby.”
I slowly opened my eyes to him. He stared down at me, still swimming around.
“For this? I thought you would enjoy it. I know how much you love the water.”
“That’s not what I was referring to, even though it deserves the same.” He blinked away the water on his full, true raven lashes. “Thank you for being mine. For loving me despite me.”
“Oh,” I said, trying not to cry. When he was that sincere, it was hard for me not to sob. It was those unguarded moments with him that carried me through the ones where he erected the barriers.
I leaned forward and kissed both of his eyes and then his nose. He laughed, real low, but with his admission and the way I looked at him, he was becoming uncomfortable. He placed me close to the wall and went under the water, making laps back and forth.
He could stay under for a hell of a long time. His lungs were strong, stronger than the average man’s, and he seemed to exercise those quite a bit too. I lost count of the minutes before he finally came back, pinning me against the side of the pool. He had just removed my tank top when Maggie Beautiful came running, yelling for him.
“Romeo’s here! So is Mick!”
Brando cursed in Italian, before lifting me out of the water, him right behind me. He took in my bra for the briefest of seconds, before telling me to stay put. There was no way that I was, so I grabbed a towel from the small stone pool house, covering myself before I ran, sloshing water along the way.
Brando met them outside of the villa, along the long driveway. He dripped water, small brown bubbles making puddles around his feet. Romeo and Mick glared at each other. Maggie Beautiful pulled Violet to the side so that the object of their affection was out of direct eyesight.
Romeo might have been more playful than his older brothers, but he was still a Fausti. And Mick, who had grown more muscles since I had last seen him, wanted nothing more than to pummel the man he saw as a challenge.
Brando introduced them, and once each man realized who the other was, the heat didn’t retreat, but their coiled bodies relaxed some. Mick turned his glare on Violet and then took his bags into the house. Violet followed not long after. Maggie Beautiful went back to Aberto.
Romeo turned to Brando, the fierce look still in his eyes. “Rocco sent me.” He glanced at me, not wanting to go any further unless Brando gave him the okay. Brando held out his hand for me, and we stood there like two connected water faucets.
Romeo nodded. “There has been a change. Rocco cannot make it here, as previously planned. He has been called away, for a short time. He will be in contact soon.”
I looked at Brando, not understanding, but something passed across his face that I didn’t like. He seemed to be reading beyond Romeo’s spoken words. After a minute or two, Brando nodded, thanking him for making the trip. Romeo left not long after, a stone-cold look on his face, his ego still inflamed over Violet, I assumed.
Brando stood there, watching his brother go. He didn’t move even after Romeo disappeared.
“Brando? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice distant, eyes reflecting. “But whatever it is, I don’t fucking like it.”
Chapter Twelve
Scarlett
A week had gone by, and I thought Brando was going to pop from the pressure. He threw himself into demolition like a man out for blood. At the pace he kept, it would only take a week or two to complete the entire job.
