In the midst of the madness, a gold ribbon fluttered by, stained with dust. It was a decorative touch on one of the dressessomeonein our villa had packed for me. One of Giovi’s women had taken it to wash. The movement of it, the color, sucked me in, not allowing my mind to go where the trap of reality waited to close with a final blow.
“Scarlett?”
I looked up to find Donato staring at me.
“What is it?” he asked.
“You know damn well what it is,” I said, eyes narrowed on his, voice low and lethal.
Reality comes with no escape when one soul is connected to another.
The blow came then with such savageness that it was like a boot to the lower spinal cord. All that resided inside of me, belonged to me, flew forward and outward, ejecting me from the only home I had ever known.
I took off, breaking through the wall of Giovi’s men and the French, ignoring the calls from Donato and Vincenzo, ignoring the sounds of fighting as men tried to stop them from getting to me. I heard the crush of bone and knew one of our men had caused it, because a few steps later, both men caught up with me. Vincenzo took my arm in one hand, his gun in the other. Donato put his hand to my back.
“Don’t touch me!” I hissed.
The hand retreated but he grew even closer. “He ordered—”
Donato’s words were lost to the bright sunlight and the sight of my husband surrendering to the dark shadows.
“No!” I screamed, catching the entire group off guard. I stopped short right before I made it to Brando, almost causing Donato to collide with me. I flung Vincenzo’s hand off my arm. “No!” I screamed once more, my arms waving madly. “I won’t go! I won’t take one step further, unless you call this off! Do you hear me?” This question was posed as a statement.
The men’s voices started to rise, none of it understandable to me.
“It’s me that you want, Giovi!” I almost screeched. Fear and panic set into my bones, holding me prisoner to the moment and the circumstance. “Not him! I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll—I’ll tell you whatever you want to know! I’ll visit a million different men and tell you the truth a million and one times!”
My words were translated in two different languages, French and Sicilian.
Giovi shook his head at the words.No deal.He wanted Brando.Not me. The murder of his son, the desecration of his body, held no comparison to a woman who could feel the truth.
“Brando didn’t kill your son!” I shouted, my voice almost hoarse. “Aurélien did!”
This caused a stir. Low murmurs started to weave through the group of men, eyes darting to the left and to the right. Four men hovered closer to Brando than they had before.
For the first time, I noticed Rocco, Dario, and Guido. They had somehow appeared—from the back of the villa?—and all three men stood like guards. Their stone faces revealed nothing, but I felt it. They were prepared to act if something went down. They were closer to the side of the villa.Another route to a waiting car?
Giovi’s man interpreted my words, and the leader stared at the ground, sweat dripping from his head, listening. His crazed eyes were as solid as black marbles.
The French were shaking their heads, already denying the charge.
Liars, all of them! Sneaky, filthy snakes, not bloodsuckers!None of them had the integrity of the Faustis. None of them could be held to their word.
Before Giovi shook the French’s hand, a middle-aged man in a designer suit, I knew it was over. I turned, attempting to run back into the villa, to hide inside, but Donato and Vincenzo stood side by side, one impenetrable wall. “Let me through!” I wailed, attempting to push them apart. “Now!”
“Scarlett,” Brando said, calling me to him. He didn’t shout, nor did he whisper, but the solid tone of his voice forced me to stop fighting. I kept my back to him. “Look at me, baby.”
No. I can’t—I can’t. Don’t turn around. Don’t!But I did. I had always been his to command, to react to, his and his alone.
He nodded. “That’s it.” He held his hand out to me. “Come to me, my baby. Come.”
I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. Our eyes held and connected, pulling me to him without conscious thought, though my feet stood rooted to soil. I’d plant them in the ground and grow leaves and fruit if it meant staying close to him.
He said one word that sent me running.Please.But it was more than the word. It was the intensity of his eyes, the certainty in his tone. Was he trying to tell me he had found a way out? Was that why more of our men had arrived? Did he have a plan?
I wasn’t sure.
At that moment, he was all I could see—nothing else mattered. I couldn’t even hone in on his feelings. I was a being made up of nothing but emotions. If there were even the slightest chance he could getusout of there, I’d take it. If not, I’d sink claws in and hold on for dear life.
