Romeo had taken the lush sofa in the room and sung quietly to himself. Before we had set sail, Gabriel held an impromptu music session by the pool. Romeo sang the entire time, and surprising us all, played the guitar. His voice was actually smooth. After, half of us stayed on this yacht and the other half took another—Rocco knew a lot of people, and it didn’t take long for him to secure a separate one.
Some of the men were already waiting for us on Tenerife, arriving early to do some recon work, flown in by plane. Since these accommodations were made before more men were added into the mix, we tripled up on rooms to accommodate.
Romeo refused to sleep in the same room with Abree—all of the men did. So they had to fight for the other available rooms.
Since Guido had been injured in the line of duty, he got a pass. He’d be sharing Chiara and Donato’s room, though technically both men shared the room since Chiara and Donato still weren’t together. Come morning I wondered if anything would change between them. It’s hard to sleep in the same bed and not touch.
It was decided that Thomas and Romeo would arm wrestle for the prize of our sofa. It seemed the only reason Thomas held on for as long as he did was out of pure fear of sleeping so close to Abree. Guido said she enjoyed cuddling at night, after you massaged her feet.
“Would you like a chastity belt?” Romeo had asked Thomas as he made his way toward her cabin, cheeks red and lips sucked in.
He turned around and made a rude Italian sign with his hands, before mouthing off foul Italian words.
“Dead man walking!” Guido had called. “Dead man walking!”
Fifteen minutes after Thomas had entered Abree’s room, he took his pillows and blankets and found a spot on one of the decks to sleep. Mitch came out not long after and invited him to use their sofa.
“Scarlett does not snore, she buzzes,” Romeo said, pausing his song to make the comment. “I like the sound of it.”
“Yeah,” I said, taking her hand and kissing it. It helped lull me to sleep most nights. In response to this, her leg around me tightened. I ran my hand down the smooth expanse of it, to her heel. The ‘F’ was raised above the skin. I went hollow at the feel of it.
After she had shown me the tattoos, I started looking down more often. All of the married or attached women had them. Carmen had Dario’s initials—he didn’t notice either until I pointed it out. To say he went soft eyed would have been an understatement. PMP stood out on Violet’s left heel, MM on her right. She said the MM was for Micah “Mick” Mason Lewis, but Scarlett told me one M was for Mitch. He knew it too. (He made some wise crack about her being lucky she didn’t have another child whose name started with an I. Since it would spell “Pimp.”) Even Rosaria had gotten Rocco’s initials.
Romeo sighed, bringing me out of my thoughts. “You cannot sleep,fratello?”
“No.”
Scarlett’s nightmares were a constant thing. It wasn’t a matter of if but when.
Sometimes she recovered from them in a matter of minutes. Other times she would be in a foul mood for a while after, but I didn’t like it when she became quiet. An eerie feeling came with her silence. Like the dream stayed with her while she was awake, and she was afraid to speak out and call it closer.
At night, before the dreams came, I always thought of something that brought me to Ireland. It was natural, I told myself, because that was when her fear really took root.
“Is it the nightmares?”
My back was turned to Romeo, but I could hear him shuffling around, fixing his pillows and blankets. His music player fell to the floor with a soft thump. He made a noise when he picked it up.
“Guido told you,” I said.
“Guido tells me all. So does Thomas.”
Romeo was the most…forthcoming of all my brothers. He didn’t mind talking about feelings or hard subjects. He had no problem sharing or saying things that were not considered “manly.” Heliked the word “bonding.” No matter what he did, he did it without shame or regret, knowing who he was and what he was about. He could sexy dance one minute, and then in the next, hit a man so hard in his windpipe that he’d crush it. Our time in Africa had taught me that about him.
“It would take a fool not to see that Guido has ah, a, how do you say? Crush on your wife. He worries for her. We all do.”
“All have crushes on her.” I noticed that Guido had a soft look about him when he looked at her, even before this trip. I didn’t miss much. But infatuation with Scarlett came and went—she was a good woman and men took notice. She had all the values of the perfect Italian wife. Except it wasn’t all Italian men who wanted her, and looks varied for different reasons. I knew the difference between them. Some were harmless enough. Others made me thirst for blood.
“At one time or another. But you usually send the reminder that she is not for the coveting, you big monster. Your shadow stays around her even when you are gone.”
I laughed quietly. But I was also intrigued. “What about you, brother?” I asked him in Italian. “Have you felt that way about my wife?”
“Sì,” he said, no hesitation. “But…” He hesitated then. “I know she is yours. I would not challenge you like Rocco. He pushed it. Now, if something were to happen to you... All's fair in love and war,fratello.”
He dodged when I threw the water bottle next to the bed at him. His laughter came out raspy.
“Brando?” Her voice drifted through the cabin.
“Yeah, baby.”
