That’s my fear, I wanted to shout, but unable to speak, I held him closer.
Chapter Thirteen
Scarlett
The final meeting had been set up, but I was still not included in its proceedings. We were set to meet Rocco at the pool for two o’clock.
I paced the floor of the villa, listening to the easy rocking of the water below. The temperature seemed to hover around a hundred degrees, at least. My face was flushed, and my skin dripped with sweat.
Earlier, I had thrown on a white, scalloped-edged, vintage bathing suit with a pair of frayed jean shorts, and I had wrapped my head in a brightly colored floral headscarf to keep the sweat from my eyes. My feet were fine bare.
Brando sat on the bed, staring down. He was dressed in a suit, though it was near scalding, and he looked both kinds of hot.
“Violet told me that a storm is coming through. I want to leave.”
He looked up at me, more than pity in his eyes. “Tell me how to accomplish that and I will. If putting you on my back and swimming us out of here was an option, I’d take it, baby.”
“This can’t be safe!” I pointed up, though I meant being over the water like this. “If the weather gets really bad, it will tear these huts right up!”
Why was I freaking out about the weather? It had never really bothered me before, unless a ghost showed up.
“We’ll take shelter in the main building. It’s up to code. All of those rich and powerful bastards wouldn’t risk their necks. If it wasn’t safe, they’d be long gone.”
“Yes, if they can find their way out of drink, drugs, and sex!”
“We’ll only get some rough water, at the worst.” Brando leaned over his legs again, sighing hard, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Time to go.”
We walked through the central building, and I stuck my Ray-Bans on, pretending that more than a few scantily dressed women were not staring at my husband as we passed. A few of them started to pant. At least three touched themselves in places I’d rather forget about.
I pointed out Violet and Rosaria, who were lounging in the shade once we were outside. They had saved me a lounger under a covered area. Donato stood behind them, a man on each side of him, guns under their arms. That seemed to be a trend—other men around the area were dressed similarly.
“Scarlett, you are going to die of a heat stroke,” Violet said, putting down her drink. She was proudly flaunting the leopard-print bathing suit again. “Take your shorts off.”
“I am.” I shimmied out of them, placing them on top of my bag next to the lounger.
Brando’s hands came around my waist, and he pushed me forward from behind, forcing me to sit down.
“Tell me, what part of‘clothes that won’t get me killed’didn’t you understand.” He ran his finger underneath the edge of my top, pulling it up.
“Compared to—” I lifted a hand around “—I’m fully clothed.” I was thankful that I left the red one behind.
He sat down beside me, his face inches from mine. “Those—” he seemed like he was going to use a different term but thought better of it “—women are not mine.”
He looked up at Donato and snapped off an Italian command. Something about keeping me here and breaking fingers if anyone came too close.
I narrowed my eyes. He seemed altogether too comfortable giving that order.
“Brando…”
He put a hand to my neck, fingers moving underneath my hair. He took a fistful and gently pulled my head back so I was forced to look up at him. “I don’t need a reason to be worried. I’m drowning in it. Have mercy on my heart.Behaveandstayput.”
“All right,” I whispered against his lips, kissing him. “I’ll stay right here. I promise.”
Lifting my glasses, I watched him walk away, a line of women forming behind him. When he met his brothers and their group, he turned to me, giving me a sharp look.
I held up my hands, wiggled my eyebrows, and mouthed, “I promise.” Then, “I love you.”
He nodded once, turning to speak to Rocco, who had been watching us again. A few of the conga line women strayed to find other nibbles, but a few approached Brando’s group, running long fingers along their shoulders, or trying to touch their hair. Like a chain reaction, each man shrugged them off, concentrating on the conversation.
