Resisting the urge not to laugh at his tone—he could be so traditional sometimes—I decided for levity instead. I also swallowed down the wordsmy husband won’t be farbefore they could escape. Brando would stay close, despite his father’srequest.
“I don’t need a chaperone. After all, I’m not going alone. Your father will be accompanying me. I know what I’m doing. I’m married to one of the most headstrong Fausti men there is. I’ve had two of his children.Robustchildren, at that. I’ll survive a walk.”
Bad choice of words. He visibly tensed. Then his face turned even harder.
Gazing at him, I felt a sense of deep longing and sorrow sweep over me. Dismissing his fears did nothing to calm his nerves. Too many times, his family had taken me into their care and delivered me back to him bloodied and bruised. “Trust issues” described the situation with mild words.
Luca was different, though. God only knew he had his ways, but as far as my safety was concerned, I had no concerns. Luca, for whatever reason, liked me. And if he protected a woman he didn’t care for just for the sake of his honor, what would he do for me? I had no doubts on the matter, but my husband…
“Come to me, my wife,” he said in Italian, and his voice left no room for discussion.
Slipping on the white-gold bracelet done in the special tulle technique Brando had given me years ago, right before the dinner that had earned our freedom through Marzio, I stood and then closed the gap between us.
My wedding band and the bracelet perfectly accentuated each other, and when I rubbed my hands along the black of his shirt, the white gold popped, and the diamonds burned against the darkness.
“Please don’t worry, Brando,” I whispered. “I think he wants to talk to me about Maggie Beautiful.”
He sighed, and I smelled whiskey and cinnamon on his breath. A dangerous combination.
He was supposed to be joining the other men for a party for Nino, who had decided to ask Dr. Musa to marry him. After he was almost killed by Primo Bruno, the boxer, she’d come to his rescue and helped save his life. When his eyes blinked open, he saw stars inhereyes and fell in love, he’d told me.
Using my slap hand as motivation, I finally stopped the men from calling them Mr. and Mrs. Oscar the Grouch behind their backs. Grundgetta for Dr. Musa, specifically.
I had a feeling Brando was going to miss the festivities so that he could spy on me and his father, though.
“Go,” I said, but I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me. “Have fun, Brando. By the time you’re done there, I’ll be done with the walk.”
“This alone makes me want to control all of this.” He used his chin to encompassall of this—meaning the Fausti kingdom. “No one should be able to tell me what they’re going to do with my wife.I request a walk. I request that she make this for me. I request that she tells me how she feels about this. Fuck requests.I’m done.”
“I know you are.”
What else could I say to that? We were here, and unless Brando decided to start something during another war about to explode with Lothario, he had no other choice but to do as history demanded.
“Let’s get through the party in Venice,” I suggested, “and we’ll reevaluate and go from there.”
Another reason Luca probably wanted to speak to me alone. The party in Venice was all but planned, a few finishing touches here and there, but for the most part, it was all settled.
The women were kept out of the loop of whatever Luca had been planning on that side of the gate. Some days I could only feel thankful; other days, curiosity got the best of me, and Brando gave me specifics. Either Lothario showed up on his own, or this time, the request turned intoor else.
The thought alone gave me a qualm that sat in the pit of my stomach like a rock, and my palms became clammy.
“The party in Venice.” He came close to a bitter laugh. “I’ll be lucky if I survive five minutes of this party for Nino. They’re planning on getting him hammered and sticking him into a garbage can to deliver to Grundgetta.”
“Brando!”
He caught me before I slapped the back of his head.
“Dr. Musa,” he whispered, his eyes lowering to my lips. “Better?”
I nodded, but he kept my wrist in his iron hold.
“Promise me you won’t let them do it,” I said. “It’s so mean!”
His eyes rose, studying mine for a second. “What will you do for me? Since they’ll try stashing me in another one for stopping them.”
I smiled, nice and slow, imagining them even trying to stuff Brando Piero Fausti into anything.
Taking his other hand, I guided his big palm along my dress, underneath the hem, to the silk underwear underneath. The heat of his body caused goosebumps to pucker my skin, and I shivered.
