Being passed around didn’t seem to bother me. I found it easier to pretend I was there, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, like our lives were as normal as the guy across from me, drinking Campari and inhaling prosciutto.
Brando stood at my side, a strong drink in hand, but his mind was a million miles away. Although we had been quiet with one another since the meeting with Giovi, Brando had been as vigilant as ever keeping an eye on me. He might have been upset with me, but he loved me, and I knew that was where his true concern came from. The thought warmed me, along with a glass of rosé, and I took his hand, holding it tight in mine, catching him off guard. I heard the air go out of his lungs and he squeezed back.
During our socializing we had somehow gravitated toward the front of the mansion. Romeo, Guido, and Vincenzo were stationed there, passing the time smoking cigars.
Brando leaned in close. “I’m going to talk to Rocco about leaving tonight. Stay here with Romeo. Don’t move.” He gave me a quick kiss and then gave Romeo a look that communicated all he didn’t have to say. Not long after, he disappeared into the crowd.
“Ah, Scarlett,” Vincenzo said, making his accent even heavier, almost growling out my name. “Come. Stand next to me. I do not bite.”
“You better not,” I said, going to stand next to him on principal. “I bite back.”
Guido finished his cigar and gave his brother a menacing look. “Vincenzo, come with me. We have things to do.”
“No.” Vincenzo sucked in a lungful of cigar smoke, slowly blowing it out, making rings in the golden mauve light. “I will stay here.”
Guido hesitated a moment, his eyes flickering between his brother and Romeo, before he took off. Romeo stood in the background. He seemed to be feeling Vincenzo out, attempting to figure out the scope of his interest in me.
“I did not get the chance to tell you how proud I am of you,” Vincenzo said. "You stood up to one of the most ruthless leaders. I believe you do bite back.” He slipped a cigar out of his pocket and offered it to me.
“No, thank you. I’ll pass.”
He stuck it back in his suit pocket. “So polite,” he muttered to himself, almost as though he was trying to compare this version of me with the one who stood up to Stone Face. “I did not believe a woman assoftas you would stand up to such a man, a man that is known as one of the most ruthless leaders ofle sanguisughe. But I see what you would do in the name of love. You are loyal. I admire that.”
“Were you the one who went after Nemours and the men he works for?”
“I was instructed to leave Nemours, if I happened to find him. But yes, that was me. A few others as well.” He leaned in closer to me. “Shh, let us not discuss business tonight.” He grinned and his eyes sparkled.
I was speechless for a moment. The grin transformed his face. There was no taunt in the gesture, only a man having fun and being a bit flirty. Here was the catch—he wasn’t an ordinary man.
He sucked in the last life of the cigar and then stomped it out. The sweet smoke seemed to belong next to leather and whiskey. He lifted his big hands, palms up to me.
“I do not have blood stains on my hands at the end of the day. It is just me. A man. The monster keeps until I tell him it is time to go to work.”
I wiped my clammy palm on my dress and nodded. I didn’t know what it took to kill another human being, whether from self-defense or cruelty, but Vincenzo had whatever it took. And to me, that made him more than a man—or less, depending on the way you looked at it. He was missing something—something that made other people hesitate before taking someone else out of this world.
He tilted his head. “Would you like me to prove it to you?” Before I could react, he had my hand in his, putting it to his chest, over his heart. A steady beat proved the theory, but I couldn’t get past the feelings he emitted. The hairs on my arm stood at attention, a clear and definite warning from some primal part of myself that he was dangerous. Perhaps not to me, per se, but to the world.
Romeo stepped out of the shadows, removing my hand from Vincenzo’s heart. The two men stood face-to-face, eye-to-eye, and it made me nervous. From past experience, I knew that it was futile to even step in between, to try and talk them down. Romeo was built from the same mold as Brando. Vincenzo was from a similar one, but with different components. Though I wasn’t Romeo’s to protect, or to take offense in honor of, he felt the right was his. Brando had left me to his care, but more than that, I was as close as a sister to him.
Romeo snapped off something low in Sicilian. Vincenzo responded in the same language. I had no idea what they had said, not even a hint. It seemed like I had lived the expanse of two lives in the second it took for Romeo to relax and nod his head.
He took his spot on the other side of me, looking out over the lawn, his eyes serious, and his mouth set in a severe line. Vincenzo had already recovered, relaxing with his hands over the ledge, a more serene look on his face.
“Tell me something,” he said after a few minutes.
I shivered. The night air had grown colder, the wind picking up. A few lanterns had been lit, and their fires danced with the breath of the wind. I tucked a piece of wayward hair behind my ear and nodded.
“What is it that bonds you to your husband? It is more than vows. There is something else.”
Determined to explain correctly, I had to think this over. I slid the glass of rosé back and forth against the ledge, the sound of thin glass against stronger cement crackling. The contents swooshed a little, glowing fierce blush in the darkness. I took a deep breath in, exhaling on a rush. I could smell the fumes of alcohol on my tongue, warm against the cool night.
“It is his looks,” Vincenzo said, taking my silence as refusal to answer and answering for me. Baiting me.
The glass stilled and I set my eyes on him. He kept his eyes forward, but I knew he could feel me staring.
“No,” I said eventually. “It’s not his looks.”
“Bugiardo,bugiardo,” Romeo sang, and I hit him on the shoulder for calling me a liar. He laughed. “It helps.”
