He turned to leave, and I didn’t realize I had reached out to grab his hand until he gave Brando a sharp command in Italian to have me release him.
Brando didn’t make a move to have me free him. Not yet. He hated when I touched other men, including this one, but I got the feeling he enjoyed the fear coming from his uncle at my touch.
Lothario stared down at my grasp, his eyes not so sure anymore. I could feel his uncertainty running as freely through his body as his blood.
I licked my dry lips and then swallowed down the chunk of ice that had formed in my throat. “Who do you think I am?” I breathed, hot air coming out in a smoky mist. I didn’t mean to ask, but the question flowed from my mouth.
“I think you mean to askwhat. I do not know for certain.” He did though. It was plain to see. He thought I was a witch, astrega.
“She sent him away, didn’t she?” That was the question I had meant to ask.
Lothario thought this over for a moment, thick eyebrows drawn in thought. The lines of his face had started to crease with years, thickening with the burden of carrying the power of his family. “You are referring to your grandmother? And her lover, Matteo?”
I nodded.
He looked back at my hand, the look on his face more curious than my own—it was almost as though he thought that I was siphoning the truth from him. “I do not know the entire story, I was only a child, butsì. It is common knowledge. She left him and married the rich composer. He took her to America. She did this to protect Matteo. It made no difference. The other man was not the one that she loved. It was Matteo. That is a soft spot no one should be privy to. Not in this life we live.” He glanced at Brando before his eyes returned to me.
“Who killed him?”
He blinked at this, surprised that I knew. He definitely thought I was a witch after that, or more clever than he thought. Which in a way was an insult, but I let it slide.
The theory made sense, paired with Lev and his story, and what I knew of Maja and Matteo’s relationship. Besides, Ifeltthe truth. He had been killed. It wasn’t suicide, as most believed.
“Someone who had found her as a spy, I suspect, though she did not know this. She assumed he killed himself. It was made to look that way. My father hid the facts from her as well as he could. He did not want to hurt her any further. My father did not know who did it. If he did, he never spoke of it.”
“Come,” Brando said, removing the hold that I had on Lothario. “It’s too cold out here for you.”
Lothario moved toward the waiting car with an audible release of breath, glad to be rid of the witch’s touch. I blinked at the light when we entered the kitchen. Just as I thought, my father and mother were at the table, Charlotte beside my mother, eating biscuits smothered in honey. Travis stood with his back to the wall, lost in thought.
Rocco and Donato noticed the tension in the air and decided to gather their troops. They needed to be filled in on current events and new plans.
Brando removed his jacket from my shoulders, and Eunice took it from him, offering us the food she had cooked.
“Tea for Scarlett,” Brando said. “And something to eat.”
“No, only tea for me,” I said, my stomach clenching at the thought of food.
The ashy color of my husband’s face hadn’t improved. Neither had my thoughts. When I thought of what happened to Matteo because of Maja…
Brando relaxed my fists, and only then did I feel that my nails were stuck like claws in my palms. The superficial wounds began to burn.
My sister looked over my outfit and a flash of jealousy lit in her eyes before she narrowed them at me. Her lips were set into what I knew was a sign of battle. Brando pulled me closer to his side, sensing the warning signs ahead of time.
“Scarlett Rose,” my father said, a plate full of food before him, but nothing touched. “Brando Piero. Would either of you like to tell me—” he stood abruptly, fists clenched to the table “—whymyLITTLE GIRL was the entertainment for that room of perverts!”
My father was a big man, wide and tall, and hunched over that way, his shirt seemed suddenly too small for his frame.
“Because she likes it,” Charlotte said underneath her breath.
“You confuse me with yourself, sister,” I said in French, because it was the truth. She would enjoy all those men’s eyes on her. And here was a situation Icouldblame fate for. My sister should’ve had my talent. It was meant for someone like her. Not me. What I yearned for was much simpler.
My father’s eyes met Brando’s. “Men loiter around your home. I say nothing. A man known to one of the biggest and most powerful criminal enterprises follows you around. I say something but get nothing in return. This.” His fists came up, but lightly came down on the table. “I will say something. Is this the life I condemned my daughter to when I gave you her hand in marriage? You allow men to watch her in that—thatway for money?
“When you two were dating, we turned a blind eye to the gossip. Hell, I took up for you! Stone warned me. Why would I ever let my little girl date such a troublesome young man? The answer was simple. You were like my own! Never. Never would I have imagined that you would allow your wife to be used in such a vile—” My father choked up, unable to go on.
I went to say something, but Brando put a hand on my arm. My mother stared at her hands, not even bothering to cut in, to tell him the truth. My sister grinned at me. She was ready to pounce and put her husband in the good light after all was said and done.My husband would never allowmeto do such a thing.
Eunice put the tea in my hand and then wrapped her arm around my back.
