Rocco released a deep sigh. Rosaria’s face grew heated. The conversation lowered to murmurs, hard to hear over the chatter of the restaurant and the man named Jan singing “Endless Love.” He was singing both parts since he couldn’t find a willing partner.
“I need to take a piss,” Brando said low enough that only I heard. He downed the last of his whiskey before he patted me on my hip, his way of urging me to stand.
He nodded to the men at the table once up, silently telling them to keep an eye on me. They all nodded. He placed a kiss on my head before he disappeared in the crowd. Women and men made room for him to walk—watching him even after he had passed them up. It was hard not to.
Some people stared at him because they assumed he wassomebody. Even in a sweater and jeans, he had a certain aura about him that people read as powerful. His looks only added to the intrigue.
It was the same for his brothers too.
The Fausti four were each beautiful in ways that connected them, but also in ways that were unique to each man.
Nino stood closer to my side, probably because Brando had ordered him to, shielding me mostly from Rosaria’s view. I mostly kept quiet unless spoken to. I was honestly too tired to ward off any sarcastic remarks disguised as playful banter.
Yawning, I blinked back the wetness that came to my eyes, catching Brando as he moved toward our table. The owner stopped him before he made it, shaking his hand again, and the two started to talk.
“You smile at him as Mona Lisa had once smiled for Leonardo da Vinci.”
Throwing a hand to my heart, I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Vincenzo had taken the seat next to me while I was preoccupied. Carmen and Dario had vacated the seat to wait in line for a turn at karaoke. She had finally convinced him to do it.
Once my heart settled, I asked, “Was I smiling?”
He nodded, downing a glass of whiskey.
“I hadn’t realized.”
“You never do.”
“Oh.” What could I say to that?Why are you watching?I didn’t want to go down that road.
Looking around the place, I found Sylvie standing with Dario and Carmen, Guido taking a turn with her instead of Vincenzo. He wasn’t the singing type. In fact, I didn’t like his mood. It seemed to reflect whatever was going on in the depths of his heart.
I smiled when Sylvie and Guido started to sing. Dario forced them ahead of him and Carmen. “She’s really great.” I attempted to change the subject. “You make a beautiful couple.” I was compelled to add that, because I felt the truth of it.
“What makes you burn forhim?”
A beat or two later, I realized that he was on the verge of drunk. The words came out in a whiskey-scented cloud, mingling with his cologne and shampoo. His hair was slicked back, showing off his ruggedly handsome face, secured with a band.
I narrowed my eyes at him before shaking my head. Why did it matter?
Brando came up to the table then, motioning for me to rise so he could sit and I could take my place on his lap again. After I stood, I told him I was ready to go. He looked between me and Vincenzo, then he met the men’s eyes around the table. They had all been watching.
“I’m really tired,” I said, handing him his coat that had hung from the back of the chair.
He slipped his on and then helped me slide into mine, but he’d seen the truth on my face. His eyes missed nothing. That was the only reason he let the issue with Vincenzo slide.
It wouldn’t be long, though, before Vincenzo ditched the idea that one day he would have to take care me, and replace it with the fact that he had a wife to take care of.
I sometimes wondered if Brando regretted starting that mess. If he didn’t,he should. It had caused more trouble than it had peace.
The cold shocked me when we stepped out of the restaurant, and I trembled. In the darkness, the world had turned white with cold. It was as though we could see the air we were breathing. Snow made flurries around our bodies.
Brando tightened his hold on my hand, worried about the slickness of the ground. He lifted his hood up, covering his hair, preparing for the cold. Snowflakes collected on his thick, black lashes, and a few slipped down his cheeks like tears from his warmth.
We stood outside for a minute or two, watching the wintery scene like a movie. Brando had his eyes lifted to the sky, and he turned to me, dusting some snow off my hood.
“You look beautiful in this weather,” he said. “Like you belong here. An exotic creature in the snow.” He took a deep breath, inhaling a lungful of air. “I can smell you in the air, and it clings to my lungs.”
We made eye contact, and I could sense he had something else to say, when the door to the restaurant opened and Rocco and Rosaria stepped out.
