“You understand what I said, Stone?” he said to Jane. “My wife will file a complaint, but I’ll do something that’s usually beneath me as a man. You don’t want your children to grow up without you, so I suggest you never show your face around here again.”
“Yeah. I mean. I didn’t. I did. But—”
“Go,” he said, pointing to her car. “Your husband is close. He’s on his way to pick up the kids.”
She shook her head, not wanting to leave, but having no other choice. The look in Brando’s eyes could have stopped an oncoming train in its tracks. Walking as though she were in a daze, she stopped halfway to her car, turning around to gaze at Brando again. The madness in her eyes made me shiver. I positioned myself in front of Brando, shielding him from it until she left.
Marciano squirmed to get down, and once his feet hit the floor, he ran back to the television, snatching his owl and getting comfortable on the sofa.
“Why didn’t she take her children?” I asked.
“She’s a bit different, Ballerina Girl.” He sighed. “Her father spoke, and she listened. A man speaks to her, and she listens. Something you’d know nothing about.”
He looked down at me and his mouth twitched, but I could see trouble still lurked in his eyes.
“Why didn’t the sheriff tell her to take them then?”
“Ah, I suppose he wants to be sure she brought the kids, and I wasn’t here alone. A simpler man would’ve given in to the anger and told her to take them. That puts an end to that. But—” He lifted his lands and then let them drop.
“Oh, you mean…alone with her?”
“It would be a convenient tale to tell.”
“He thinks—he doesn’t trust you, I mean, to be alone with his wife?”
“What better way for a man to seek vengeance then through the woman his enemy loves?”
“I’ll kill you,” I said. Jealousy reared its ugly head, and I was surprised at the venom in my voice, though I didn’t regret it. A swift-moving thought ran across my mind—I am madder than Jane Stone over this man—but I dismissed it. Sanity has no place next to jealousy.
He touched my chin softly. “Would you have to,la mia vita?”
“You can’t soften me up with sweet words, Fausti. You should know better.”
“What about my actions then? My character?” His words were tender, his eyes softening. The masochist liked it when I became jealous! Threatening to kill him only served to add some spice to his ego. “Is that enough to soften you toward your husband?”
Despite my anger, he had softened me up. We deserved each other.Amen.
I moved my chin, setting my cheek against his hand. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m—”
He kissed me before I could apologize.
Tires crackling against the driveway made us break the kiss and look. The sheriff drove up slowly, and even from this distance it was clear to see that his eyes were taking in the situation. More than one car,check.
Brando and I moved closer together, waiting for him to step out and collect his children from our home.
10
Brando
What time is it?
My internal clock hadn’t turned on. My mind had blasted awake.
The sun hadn’t come up, but it was close. The light seemed moody, the precarious switch between night and day hanging in the balance, and the air in the room felt colder than usual.
Someone was in our room. Watching.
Matteo had crept in, as quiet as a prowling cat. Or so he thought. He had no idea that he’d woken me up. I stared at him through lowered lids, watching him through a fan of eyelashes. A strong urge to laugh threatened to give me away, but not wanting him to catch me, I held it back.
