Ciro was Lothario’s right-hand man. He gave him council on all things, like Tito had counseled Marzio, my grandfather.Sanguisugameans leech in Italian, orsanguisughe,bloodsuckers, which meant the men that Ciro was in contact with could be bad news. Back in the day, when the Fausti family first got their start, a group of men formed against them and had been a thorn in their sides ever since. They wanted to be what the Faustis were, and any chance offered was a chance taken. The family called them leeches for a reason. They had been out for Fausti blood since the beginning.
“For Lothario?” I said.
“No.” Rocco shook his head. “For his own reasons.”
“You think he’ll challenge Lothario?”
Rocco thought about this for a moment. “It is possible. Nothing is certain. Though I do not believe Lothario suspects Ciro will double-cross him. His eye is on you. If Ciro does, he will do it in such a way that Lothario will not see it coming. He knows he is not strong enough to take him outright. He will cut off his arms and legs before he goes in for his neck.”
We walked for a minute or two in silence, digesting all of this.
“Father is holding Ettore back,” Rocco said. “For now.”
Romeo quickly glanced at me and then turned his eyes forward again.
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s getting curious.”
“He is also waiting for you to come to him for help,” Romeo said.
I nodded. There would be nothing Luca would want more than for me to go to him for council. Even that would cost me.
“He does not like what he is hearing about Lothario. Father and Ettore know Lothario is not a born leader. If not Ciro, it is only a matter of time before someone else challenges him. If they do, and they win—” Rocco shrugged again, not finishing.
Marzio’s line had led thefamigliasince the beginning of the Faustifamiglia. It would bring great shame upon our lineage if Lothario would lose it to another. That bothered me, but only to a certain extent.
I didn’t trust Lothario for my own reasons. He raged war against his brother for his father’s honor, and he had been in touch with the French in my son’s honor—but I wasn’t sure how far he’d go. Or what he was willing to sacrifice for a man who could challenge him and win. His motives were two-fold, and time would only tell what he’d do. He might put me in a situation that meant my life to eliminate me from his. Violence was only a portion of what went on behind the golden gates. War strategy had to be strong in order to survive the attack.
“We have heard stories of war.” Romeo shook his head. “Never have we seen it until now. Not like this.”
I agreed. Marzio’s death shifted the ground, and not a damn thing was settled.
“The other situation has been taken care of as well,fratello,” Romeo said.
I glanced at Rocco, but he kept his eyes forward.
“Nick Lomas has been taken care of,” Rocco said.
I nodded. “Dario.”
“Yes,” Rocco said. “It was an honorable death, if such a thing can be said for a man who destroyed weaker beings than him.”
Romeo spit to the side, disgusted with the thought of Nick Lomas. My feelings were in line with his. I wondered if Carmen would ever know what her soon-to-be husband did in her honor.
Rocco reached the stone shed before me and opened the door, gesturing Romeo and me inside. Dario and Donato stood with their backs against the wall, watching three men stand around something in the center of the room.
When they moved, I saw who sat on a chair in the center of the room. Romilda. She was the nurse who had been alone with my wife after she almost died. She had no idea how close she had stood to death. My wife was the only force that stood between her and the other side.
The Faustis had rules—women were not to be harmed. But even they had exceptions. If a man hurt one of our women, his would be harmed in retaliation. Then he’d be a dead man. If the woman was the enemy, it was usually her husband, lover, son, or father who received our retribution. Romilda was a special case though.
This woman came into my wife’s room when she wasn’t supposed to. She premeditated doing irrevocable damage in retribution of her own anger and hurt. And she had.
“Why is this woman here?” I snapped in Italian.Though “woman” seemed like too good of a term for her. I knew what she was—a fucking snake with two venomous heads.
She smiled at me, her dark eyes almost glowing in the darkness. The men had lit torches, and with the light, she reminded me of an evil thing in a velvet blue dress. My eyes narrowed. A blue rose stuck out of her cleavage. I couldn’t tell if it was made from paper or the same material as her dress.
She pointed at Rocco like she was cursing him.“I am glad you decided to join us, lover,”she said in Italian.
My gaze moved from the rose to her face again. She either had had too much to drink, though I didn’t smell anything, or she was on something. Her pupils were dilated, making her eyes seem black.
