“Tell me, nephew. Does the family want you? Ah, say no more. They do.” He nodded at this. “Not only did they want to see what Nemours made a fuss about, but what you were made of. A test.” He thought about this for a moment. “It is a business made of monsters and men, and only an angel can tell the difference. To be sure.”
“What do you do in this business of monsters and men?”
“Ho salvato.E ho preso.”I have saved. And I have taken.“Mostly, I sit around with my books or my puzzles. Unless I am called upon.” He studied his puzzle for a moment, eraser to his lip. “You must be very powerful, nephew, for them to have come at you this hard. Ah, I'd say even more powerful than your father. I see a good bit of Marzio in you as well. I see both men in one body. That tells me a lot. IfI were to offer my opinion, Ettore arranged this.”
A light tap, and then Rocco entered. He brought two glasses of whiskey, one in each hand. He held one out to me. I was tempted to refuse, but gave in. I downed it in one swallow, releasing a hot breath afterward.
“Tell me what happened in that room,” I said.
Rocco rested his back against the wall, sipping his drink. “You do not want to know.”
I rolled the glass, watching the thin line of amber liquid circle the cup. “Tell me.”
“She, ah, danced like she does, in the secret clubs, but more freely. But by no means is she—well, no matter how she dances, she does not belong here, or in any similar place. She was brave. Rosaria has tough skin, but if she sees a spider, she will scream. There were more than spiders in that room.”
“The men.”
“A few tried. As I knew they would. I stopped them. No one touched her.”
“Their decision,” I said.
“They have not come to one. I believe Scarlett has made an impression onNonno. She called him a misguided angel.”
My head snapped up.
“He is taken with her,” Rocco explained.
I smirked, offering him my glass. He called for one of his men and the man refilled it. He also said that Violet was outside, wanting to talk to me.
“Before I let her enter, there is something I have to say to you.” Rocco went to the door again, retrieving a box the same length as a short hand, but deeper.
He watched Scarlett for a minute or so before he sniffed and took a swill of whiskey. I saw the savage in his eyes then, and my neck prickled, almost wanting to challenge him.
“I’ve failed you,” he said to me, but he looked at Scarlett. “For that, I owe you blood.”
He handed me the box. A severed hand was in its center, placed on a cushion of cotton. It had been disconnected right across the pulse point.
“He will not be able to poke another woman again,” he said, his voice full of ice and honor. Then he showed me his tattoo. He had cut himself in the sacred heart.My word is as good as my blood.He shed his blood because he felt he had failed.
I nodded, placing the box on the side table. I held out my hand to him, and he took it sideways, and we held tight.
“Grazie, fratello,” I said.
He nodded and we let go.
“I will allow Viola to see you now.”
“And I will take a moment to speak to Rocco. If you need me, I will be right out—” Dr. Sala pointed toward the other room.
“Brando?” Violet said, shutting the door. “How is she?”
“Sleeping.”
“I—” She plopped down on the seat Dr. Sala had been occupying. She inhaled and exhaled. “Scarlett knew.”
“About?”
“She knew this was going to happen.” She put her hands up in defense. “When she asked for me, before she went under, she wanted me to be her confessor. I thought it was just nerves. But she knew. She knew something. I promised to tell you things in case she couldn’t.”
