The last time I’d seen my uncle, Lothario, who was the current head of the Faustifamiglia, he had asked to speak with me after my daughter’s christening in December. We hadn’t parted on friendly terms. He had asked me and my brothers to stand against our father.
We’d denied his request.
We knew Ettore had come to Italy, unofficially, on Luca’s orders. Around the same time, Aberto, Maggie Beautiful’s husband, had his still beating heart ripped out of his chest.
The timing was no coincidence. Nothing Luca ever did was by chance.
It had been possible at one time for Luca to escape his sentence. But Marzio was a man of integrity and honor. Luca had killed the sheriff’s wife and unborn child, and for those sins alone, Marzio refused to intervene on his son’s behalf. Serving time behind bars was Luca’s penance for an irrevocable decision. An innocent woman and child had not been spared; therefore, Marzio would not spare even his most powerful son.
The son who had been promised the honorable title of Head of the Faustifamiglia.
Though Marzio was no longer with us, Luca respected him, and had decided to serve his penance like a man. But with his father gone and the family in jeopardy, due to Lothario’s failing leadership, there were decisions to be made. And depending on what that final word was—was where we stood in this life.
Basically, where I was—in the darkness, watching two of my uncles, Osvaldo and Niccolo, at our party. Rocco had come to me, asking that they be allowed to celebrate with us.
Osvaldo and Niccolo were the last two spares, and they floated whichever way the tide moved. They were brought up to follow their older brother, their leader, and their presence was more telling than the meeting with Lothario or the fact that Ettore stood on Italian soil.
The two brothers had abandoned Lothario to be here with us.
A smart man would ask why. A brilliant man would already know.
A change in leadership was close.
But change could wait—for the time being.
What had stolen my attention was Niccolo dancing with my mother-in-law. A simple dance didn’t bother me. It was thewhowithwhothat did it. Niccolo was the eternal bachelor of the brothers. The one we all thought Romeo would turn out to be.
Niccolo was known as the Casanova of the Faustis. Tales about him were legendary. He slept with women for much less than pity, and he had his sights on Scarlett’s mother. Not out of pity, either, but out of pure want.
He had asked about her before, when he noticed her around our villa, but after Rocco had a talk with him, he knew she was off limits. She was consideredfamiglia,since she had a husband, and he was my wife’s father. But since Everett and Pnina hadn’t mended their relationship, Niccolo felt all was fair in love and war.
It would start another battle when Everett showed up and found out. He hadn’t come for her yet, but he would. He had been calling, though she ignored them, and was getting more desperate as the days stretched between them.
This—if Niccolo fell in love with her, there was no telling what would happen. The last thing we needed was another conflict between families. And over my wife’s mother. It was bad enough that Osvaldo eyed Maggie Beautiful from the side of his eye every time she passed him. His wife gave eye too—the evil one.
“What is it?” I said to myself, scanning the crowd for Romeo. “Brother lust? One brother always wanting what the other one has?” Was it some deep-seated biological need to share? Whatever it was, I had fucking none of it. The only bed I wanted to share—and soon—was my wife’s.
Before I took a step toward the dance floor, Romeo and Guido came stumbling up to me. One arm around the other, their heads were lifted to the starry sky, a bunch of white teeth gleaming like wolves in the night, singing some Italian love song.
“Fratello!” Romeo waved his bottle of chianti at me, some of it sloshing over the sides. “Unisciti a noi!”
“I have to tell you—” Guido took the bottle from Romeo and took a sip “—you and your wife give the best…” He stopped for a moment, his eyes focused, and then he smiled. “Feste!”
A new song picked up, a fast one, and they took each other by the arm, going around in circles, laughing.
I watched them for a moment before taking Romeo by the arm to get his attention. He pulled out of my grasp.
“Come on,fratello!” Romeo said, his laughter raspy. “Free yourself and go around in circles with us.”
“Yes, do!” Guido said, taking the bottle from Romeo and chugging it again. “Hehe.”
I hadn’t heard Guido laugh so much since Thomas was killed. One of our cousins and the man his son was named for.
Despite myself, I smiled.
Seeing this, they took it as affirmation that I’d dance with them and started circling me. I was drunk, but not that fucking drunk. Yet. A woman came by and handed me an opened bottle of whiskey. We all shared a few glasses of amber before I took each man’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Keep Niccolo away from Pnina,” I said. “Tempt him with drink and then lay down the law.”
