“He’s not… I mean. He wouldn’t…” I started to falter over my words, so shocked. Because it was clear—Niccolo was going in for lonely-cat-lady night sex.
Romeo moved my chin, so I was forced to look at him. “He will make love to her.”
I laughed, but tried to keep it quiet. Romeo wasn't laughing.
“I would have. Before.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Ah. Out of pity. Perhaps after tonight she will have her hair done. Or smile more often. Manifesting other good things to come in her life, yes? He will not tell her he loves her. He will only offer her desire—the power to feel wanted.”
“Or perhaps she’ll stop making pasta in the middle of the night and sharing it with all of her cats?”
He laughed, the first true laugh since Juliette. “Perhaps. Or if she gains another lover, he shall feed it to her, ah? I have found older women to be the best lovers. They teach. They give. Their pleasure is never a question ofifbutwhen.”
My attention automatically went to Brando, who was deep in conversation with Rocco and Lothario as we continued forward. His first lover had been older. Morbid curiosity made me wonder how much she had taught him. Then morbid fascination forced me to wonder if it was some Fausti right of passage for the men to explore older women, to have them as their firsts because they could.
You have a lifetime of experience but...I'm a Fausti.Nature already gave me instructions.
All of the earlier emotions came rushing back to me. Brando glanced up at me and I caught his eye. His narrowed in return, in challenge of the violence he read in mine.
No, I turned away,it’s not his fault. My father's sins were not his.
Romeo had become quiet watching me watch Brando. “Your mamma. She is a beautiful woman, as you are. I would have made love to her.”
“Ew.” The sound came without hesitation.
He grinned at this. “Not out of pity. Out of want. Your father, he is an intelligent man. Clear enough. But he is not wise, Sissy. My brother is a wise man.Capisci?”
Romeo had a way of reading people. Perhaps that was what made him such a good detective, or what was the equivalent in Italy. He was part of the DIGOS—they investigated everything from murder to terrorism. I had heard rumors about him through the men. For as young as he was, he was some sort of hotshot legend among that world.
Part of that was because of who he was. Men talked to him out of fear of his name and what it could do. The other part of it was that his instincts were on point and he was as sharp as a knife tip.
“Speaking of intelligent…” I brought the conversation back to him. “Why are you not going afteryourwoman?” I lifted a brow.
“It is not the right time.” If the flash of hurt and anger that rippled across his features was any indication, it was. He held back.
I had wanted to ask before but had refrained. Since we were being so candid, I decided to. I might not get Romeo alone again to bring it up. “What happened, Romeo? Between you and Juliette?”
He sighed. He seemed to have to release the pressure her name evoked. He stroked my cheek with his thumb before putting the finger to his mouth. “So curious,” he muttered to himself before he straightened up. “I told her who I was, about myfamiglia. I did not know how much she knew—our name is known beyondItalia. Still, I will not hide who I am. I wanted to share. I asked her if this was why this Sheriff Stone—” He threw out an arm, and it was then that the beast in his eyes flared. Romeo was the most calm of his brothers, but the animal wasn't buried deep. “—did not want my brother with his love. If our name is why he hates my brother. She did not answer, or perhaps she said yes. I fell asleep after with her in my arms. I woke up and she was gone.”
Romeo had inadvertently shed some reality in the bedroom, and Juliette knew the stakes. The Stones and Faustis had been enemies ever since Luca came to town years ago. Word on the street was that one of the Stone brothers, younger than the sheriff, had been in love with Maggie Beautiful. Luca arrived and he was all but forgotten. Then Luca kills the sheriff's wife. It was a horrible, horrible accident that could have been prevented. Still, it wasn’t Brando's fault. Somehow the bad blood had been smeared over my husband, and he became the sheriff's target.
Years later, Nick Stone made some kind of claim on me, though I caught him in the pantry at my mother and father's house feeling up my sister. A young mind can't make sense of situations in a young life, but considering the situation with an older mind, I realized that even if Nick would have survived, I was not meant for him.
The truth was, Nick hadn't survived and Brando had, and this was another point of contention that seemed to stick in the sheriff's mind. I had saved Brando's life. Not Nick’s. Again, he blamed Brando.
If Romeo took another thing that the Stones felt belonged to them, it would be all-out war. Juliette might have recently moved back to Natchitoches, but she knew the history and how the story went. The Stones never made their dislike of Luca and Brando a secret.
Actually, dislike was being generous, I thought. Sheriff Stone had tried to talk my parent's out of allowing me to marry Brando. But I was over eighteen, and even if they had tried, we would've had a small ceremony with the two of us. End of story.
“I will not allow her to marry him,” Romeo whispered, forcing my full attention back on him. In the same vein as his older brother, those eyes belied the tone. “I do not make idle threats. She knows this. She is a woman now. Mine. No matter how far she travels. She has always had a part of me with her.”
I nodded, only knowing too well that his words were the truth. It would take the mind of an innocent girl not to understand the danger behind them.
Poor Juliette! I knew she had to be going crazy without him as well, but scared out of her mind at the situation she faced. “Romeo,” I said, barely breathing his name. “Brando asked you to take care of me if something were to happen to him, didn’t he?” I knew Brando had, he had admitted that to me, but I was hoping to get specifics out of Romeo.
“Sì. Before we left Africa. However, he could not speak it. It was too hard for him to even ask. The thought ate at his heart and soul. I made it easy for myfratello. I gave him my word. However.” At this, some of his playfulness was back, his eyes full of dark mischief. “When he was able, he gave conditions. I could marry you, to give you my name and my protection, but I am not allowed to make love to you. I am not to allow anyone to sweep the cobwebs from your dusty frame. He tells himself you are to become an old maid, pining after him in black funeral garb for the rest of your days. I refused to give him my word on this.”
