Our men were starting to get anxious—body language clearly displaying the warnings. If one of the paparazzi didn’t tumble in on accident, there was a good chance one of the men might jump their own boat and push them in.
Even a police escort didn’t stop the photographers from getting too close. If anything, the police were smiling, waving to us every so often like we were someone to wave at.
A loud roar went up from the men with cameras as Luca and Maggie Beautiful caught up, both of them standing, waving.
Besides being a Fausti, Luca was one of Italy’s most famous racers, and they hadn’t forgotten him.
The romantic visions of the Faustifamigliaprevailed before my eyes.
For a minute, I was struck dumb by the situation I found myself in.
Most of my life was spent attempting to avoid this current situation. I wanted nothing to do with any of this, and Maggie Beautiful, understanding this, plus having hard feelings toward Luca and his family, had agreed.
We refused to take a penny of their money over the years. If we would have, we would have been indebted, and to pay back such an immense loan would have meant to sacrifice what I refused from the moment the situation became clear to me.
Myself and all that I wanted.
There I was—inside the bubble. My family a part of the insane fucking hoopla. My wife being screamed at from men with invading cameras. My daughter being compared to her famous grandmother. Men begging to get a picture of my infant son—the heir to the throne.
This entire scene was just a taste of what the Fausti life entailed.
Scarlett increased the pressure on my back, and I shook my head, turning away from the madness that had taken a different direction.
The paparazzi had set their camera on Luca and Maggie Beautiful, who led the pack, Lothario and Belaflore standing next to them.
To most, the picturesque scene would come across as two brothers sharing a ride, their wives alongside them, but understanding the language, it signified much more than that.
* * *
“Of fucking course,” I said, looking up.
The palazzo was like a palace. Marzio had left it to Luca after his death.
We were not truly invited to stay. We were bullied into it by my father’s ferocious need to control.
Luca gave us the grand tour, describing each detail of the place. Scarlett was immersed, paying rapt attention.
Ten bedrooms, each considered a double room, since there was a small room allotted for each au pair. Eleven bathrooms. A ballroom large enough to seat fifty at its grand table—this being surrounded by angels with swords, and a stellar view of the Accademia and the Grand Canal. Antique furnishings, matching iron-work sconces, expensive crystal chandeliers, and artwork that consisted of women in puffed out ballgowns and men with white wigs. From one side of the palazzo to the other, candles were in abundance.
At the end of the tour, Scarlett condensed the finer points for me—18thcentury with exquisite Rococo and Neo-Classical stuccowork rendering scenes from classical mythology. A few pieces of furniture were designed by some flamboyant designer still known for a masked party he threw in the 50s. Some of the pieces had survived the years and were originals.
When Scarlett did facts, she did them right. I had a hard time keeping up with her eager mind. Not that her ardor for factoids and history didn’t tempt me into knowing more, but I was too absorbed in watching Lothario watching Luca. It was hard for me not to think of the two forces instead of the decorations.
I’d never seen them interact before or been in the same room with both of them at the same time.
If I would have had any doubt that Lothario was not going to go down without a fight, the look on his face when he thought no one was looking would’ve squashed the theory.
Luca didn’t seem to have a care in the world—he knew what he was about and had no plan to lose. His confidence could rival that of an immortal who had no chance of dying because he was already dead.
In his mind, there was no challenge. This was all his. Had always belonged to him by the laws of the family. Laws were laws. The end.
Despite the situation, I grinned at Scarlett’s face. Shelovedit here.
“You should be used to this by now.” I waved a hand around, encompassing the opulent surroundings. My eyes narrowed at all of the creams, blues, and golds, catching and reflecting the light shimmering through the balcony window. “All of the palatial places you’ve stayed in over the years.”
She shrugged and dug into our luggage.
I’d touched an exposed nerve.
