Livio’s eyes bulged, his mouth came open, and after the shock had worn off, he seemed affronted on Scarlett’s behalf. She would’ve been pleased by his reaction. There were times she still struggled with my past. No doubt her father’s extramarital affairs had something to do with her nature to hold on to such things, but then again, I had no room to talk either. I was a jealous bastar—I looked up.Give me strength.I was jealous. Possessive. Obsessive. When it came to mine.
“How? Have you seen her?” Livio asked, a serious look on his face. He wasn’t messing around about this.
Turning back toward the crowd, I found her again. She was dressed in a leotard top and a tulle skirt that showed off her small waist. It flowed out, ending right above her ankles. All such a delicate pink that it made her thick, wavy hair seem more auburn than chestnut, setting off her skin. Her heels were gold and high, the straps winding around her finely sculpted ankles like vines.
Her eyes glistened in the soft sunlight pouring through the church’s windows. I could see how green and vibrant they were. “Moody eyes” was how Maggie Beautiful described them, depending on the light, her clothes, and how she felt.
Today they were deep and thoughtful.
She looked especially gorgeous, almost too beautiful to stare at for long periods of time. I ran a thumb across the bottom of my lip.Mine.All mine.The newFinitial ring on my little finger stood out and felt almost alien against my skin.
The “Fausti Four,” as we were referred to, all had similar rings, and apart from thefamigliatattoo, they symbolized who we were.
I inhaled and let it out in a slow push. The air in the church was cool and smelled of incense, candle wax, and flowers, but I could’ve sworn the scent of her drifted in the air and lingered underneath my nose. Her perfume, and not just the one in a bottle, made me lick my lips. I knew how she smelled. All over.
“Yeah,” I said, the word catching. “I’ve seen her.” So has everyone else—every man in the church noticed her, and one from the Grassi side walked over, reaching out a hand to shake hers.
The wedding ring on her right hand shimmered in response to the natural light and the stained-glass windows. So subtle that she didn’t notice, he checked out her left hand but didn’t seem to care that my rings claimed both of her third fingers. He hovered regardless.
“Then why would you ever…?”
“There was a time in my life when she wasn’t around,” I said. “She’s younger than me.”
Romeo squeezed my shoulder, following my line of sight. He laughed in my ear.
“Myfratellomight not have saved himself for the gorgeous Scarlett Rose Fausti, but I bet he never sweated over anotherbella donnathe way he does hismolglie.” He made a kissing noise at me. Then he turned back to the church. “We have suitors! Now there is one lined up for the lovely Rosaria!”
Rocco came to stand behind us, narrowing his eyes.
“There is another for the amazing Carmen!” Romeo went on, stirring up trouble for the fun of it.
Dario popped up, crowding us even further.
“Another! This one for Chiara!”
Donato growled deep in his throat. His chest puffed against my back, attempting to become the biggest lion in the pride.
“There is one for Collette,fratello,” Dario said, going for payback, but Romeo laughed it off. That was how we all knew he wasn’t serious about her—he didn’t care. She didn’t either. She was the most aloof woman I’d ever met.
Rocco made a taunting noise. “It seems the father is alone as well. He is attempting to put his charms on Aunt.”
“What!” Tito cleared us all out of the way. “That—”
“Now, Uncle,” Romeo said, laughing even harder. “We are in a church!”
Tito slapped at Romeo, having enough of the bullsh—and us. Then he reminded us that Livio was getting married, and he was waiting to have the man-to-men talk.
“First rule: Do not allow another man to talk to your wife. It can only lead to debauchery.” Romeo punched the groom on the shoulder. “Men and women cannotjust be friends. Take it from me. I am the friend.” His lip curled up at the thought.
Livio nodded, but it was clear that he disregarded Romeo’s advice. He had never been married and had more lovers than his age.
I narrowed my eyes. Livio started to look pale. “You’re not getting cold feet,” I said.
“No! Of course not! I, ah, am nervous about tonight. I thought, perhaps, you would understand.”
He seemed disappointed in me—he idolized Scarlett, and it dawned on me that he considered our relationship ideal. It was, but it wasn’t without its struggles. What relationship is?
“I seem to remember a young man in the French Quarter ready to claim his manhood.” Donato let that thought linger, and Livio’s face turned red.
