Looking down at my dress, picking at a piece of fabric, I shifted a bit in my seat. “Constantia?”
“Yeah, she killed her—”
Squeezing his hand, I said, “I know.”
“Giacomo wanted permission to put her straight in with Ettore.”
Giacomo was the second in charge, Nino being the first, but he made the call when decisions needed to be finalized. Coming from Brando’s mouth, with an Italian accent—the longer we stayed in Italy, the stronger it became—the name sounded closer to “Jackamo.”
The thought of them putting her in, without even finalizing her death—did she have family, children?—made me want to sob. What if she could still be saved? Or…didn’t she need to be washed? Everyone deserved to go to the grave with clean hands and a sense of dignity.
The thoughts overwhelmed me, and my head came forward, resting against the cool pane of the glass. Instead of giving in to the strong urge to cry at the insanity of it all, I closed my eyes, clutching the cross around my neck, holding on for dear life.
42
Scarlett
Brando paced around our room, head down, not making eye contact. Occasionally, he’d roll his shoulders, like his suit had become too tight.
He reminded me of a lion, preparing for a fight.
I thought that analogy summed him up well—a big, stalking cat.
For the longest time, he had stood against the wall, watching as I readied myself for the day. He’d somehow found peace in the litany of my morning and nightly routines. It seemed to calm him as much as it used to do me before I took the stage. When I could stand no one else in the room with me, I could stand him. Most of the time he reminded me of a settling breath during chaos.
That man had gone, though, and in his place, this apprehensive creature tensed to spring.
I caught his reflection in the mirror—it was hard not to, when the man stared as he did—though I acted as if I hadn’t.
It was better not to let him know.
Over the years, I’d perfected the subtle gesture—catching without him knowing. If he knew, words would start to come, and at this point, what was done was done.
His eyes narrowed as I dressed. Pale pink cashmere dress, pewter belt, pink heels high enough to give me a few inches.
Luca’s rules under his “roof” still held strong.You dress like a woman who belongs to the Faustifamiglia.
His sons had this responsibility too, dressing as gentlemen, and as their wives, one of our duties was to play our part.
It was important that we carry the patina of the Fausti family, as their reputation had taken a hit in light of Lothario. We would help resurrect what had been lost—then take it and make it even stronger.
Romeo joked that we were allreali, Italian royalty. Even Vincenzo had started to call me “duchessa.” On occasion, Guido and Lou curtseyed to us, mostly to make Brando fume out of fun.
There was some truth to their statements and behavior, though.
Luca ran his family as a king would run his kingdom, and he hadn’t even officially taken over yet. That power struggle was a silent one, but it was there, nonetheless.
It took someone living in a galaxy far, far away not to feel it in the air.
Slipping the heels on, I glanced up at my lion from underneath my up-curled lashes. A sigh escaped my lips that I couldn’t contain. Perhaps words were needed at this point.
“Brando…” I waved the perfume bottle around. “You knew this was coming. So did I.” I spritzed the floral scent on the main pulse points. “He wants to talk to me.Talk, that’s it.”
“He requested that I not be there. He seems to forget that you are a married woman. Your husband should be there to accompany you.”
“Request” held a different meaning to the Faustis. The words Luca spoke were formulated to mimic a request, but most of the time it was a simple formality. Brando was the best at reading between the lines and answering in the same language—walking a tight rope, indeed.
From what I could gather, outside of thefamiglia—even inside of its confines—a man didn’t want a request to turn into an order. The requester was doing a favor by offering it, giving a sense of dignity in acceptance, because the alternative was simple—do it or else.
