Both men had reason to want us dead—Luca being there had perhaps been a bonus for them. With him out of the way, they would both get vengeance and a piece of the pie.
Then it would come down to Ercole and Lothario, because neither man was powerful enough to claim the throne unless they killed Luca, by underhanded means, in the process of claiming it.
Ercole would charge Lothario, ready to fight for the head lion’s position. There was no doubt that Lothario thought he could beat Ercole at his own game.
That was why he’d extended an olive branch in the first place—a cease-fire until the two had to face off for the coveted title of king of beasts.
How could they be so simple? Luca hadn’t lost an ounce of his brutal nature. If anything, being pent up had increased his virility and ruthlessness.
Luca aside, Brando had been taking the situation hard. Harder than he’d ever taken any of the other situations that had threatened us.
He had asked me when we would find ourselves out of the woods, and I had given him the truth.
That truth led me straight to Nemours.
The madness would end with him, our beautiful years finally coming to fruition. Then we’d find our true freedom.
Catching Nemours, though, had proven time and time again to be a futile search. Unless Brando was willing to use me as bait, it was a wait and see game.
“No fucking way, Scarlett Rose Fausti.”
“You won’t get an argument out of me. I wasn’t even considering it.” Ididn’twant to be bait. Not after what happened to me in Zermatt.
I kissed the top of his head and left the office in Luca’scastello, Nino close on my heels.
A bowl of chatter, that one. He was getting married in Venice, and nothing short of a natural disaster would impede his upcoming nuptials and steal his joy.
His unending happiness was refreshing, but sometimes,Iwanted to stuff him in a trash can and tell him to put a lid on it.
Rarely was I able to think—the children, the endless visits from the other women to check on things for the party, the playdates, Luca requesting I take care of things he trusted me to—so when free time presented itself, I took it.
After arriving at our villa, I danced until I couldn’t breathe, and inspired by how free I felt after, refreshed, I decided to seize the night.
After dinner, baths, nursing, and bedtime stories, I gave Nino orders—no men inside of the house until Brando gave them other instructions.
Eunice had left for the evening. A big date with Signor Agosto Fucilla. He’d been pursuing her since Positano. Lucky for him, he’d told us, he had family in Florence, and he was staying with them. If all went well tonight, Eunice planned to ask him to accompany her on the trip to Venice.
Savoring the peace of a still house—another rarity, just me, my children, and their father, who was on his way home—I set the table, a romantic dinner for two, lit hundreds of candles, and then sat with my feet up, clad in only heels and jewelry, a glass of red wine in my hand.
The bracelets on my wrists glittered with the rising flames, the diamonds glistening like rainbows in the soft light. My wedding rings caught the light, too, the white gold looking almost unearthly against my skin.
The door opened, and a draft of cool air slid in, caressing my flesh and making goosebumps scatter along my skin. With the rush of air, the scent of my husband seemed to flutter in with it, and the candles swayed. I shivered, but it was more from anticipation, from the nearness of him, than from the chill.
“Scarlett?”
I closed my eyes and imagined his steps, his routine. He draped his jacket over the sofa, rolled up his sleeves, and was probably working on his tie.
Proving me correct, when he walked into the dining room, he was sans jacket, tie close to undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He stopped right as he entered the room.
I smiled and then laughed—I hadn’t realized how much wine I’d drunk. It was starting to make itself known in my bloodstream.
“I like the look on your face,” I said, my words a bit slurred. My cheeks felt hot.
He grinned at me, coming closer to the table. He lifted the wine bottle, dangling it, perhaps measuring.
“Two glasses, Scarlett. You’re going to pay for that later.”
