It pissed me off.
She knew it. Just as I could feel the flames of hell coming from her father's stare, she could feel the same coming from mine.
One look at her, and the race car driver was putty in her hand.
Luca Fausti wanted a war over his granddaughter? I'd declared it the moment my eyes met this pompous motherfucker’s.
To his credit, he didn't back down.
Maybe that's why Luca had chosen him for this assignment.
Below the surface, though, something dark swam in the pit of my stomach. I knew this family as well as my own. What the old man said went. And like all the males at this table, Luca was no exception to Mia's charms. If she ever tried to sway him to send me away...
A growl vibrated deep in my throat.
The asshole, with his puffed-up pompadour, narrowed his eyes against mine at the sound. The tension was so thick, the cakes in the room should have exploded from the pressure of it.
"I got a question for you," I said, tipping my glass toward him.
"Shoot," he said with a heavy Italian accent.
I grinned at the implied insult. To him, I was nothing but a thug. "How do you fit that—" I motioned to his head, or more specifically his hair “—under a helmet?"
Mia's fork hit her plate with a clank, and her mouth fell open. Scarlett made a noise that she disguised as a cough. Everyone else grew deathly quiet, except for Romeo, who spoke up.
“It is quite simple—" he began, but his wife elbowed him in the ribs.
Romeo was another one of Mia's uncles, and the most obsessed with his looks. Mostly his hair. It was a running joke in the family, but since he was good natured about it, everyone pretty much tolerated it.
Romeo’s voice trailed off into another tense silence. Luca picked up his glass and eyed the both of us while we stared at each other. Then a startling laugh cracked the tension. An irreparable fissure that drew battle lines.
Brando Fausti’s head was tilted back, and his laughter barreled through the room. It took a second, but like a yawn, it spread over the table. Except for Scarlett, who squeezed his hand, and Mia, who eyed him with daggers.
Most of the table knew what was up with him. He was laughing at the situation. At me. Because he was once where I'd been, and the bastard was probably relieved not to be in the same shoes again. He'd earned his scars and wore them proudly, the cause of so many of his wars forever on his arm: the woman who sat next to him.
Elio laughed, too, but he continued to look at me. I grinned in return.
This motherfucker had no clue who he was at war with. Or how high the cost was for what I was fighting for. My heart in physical form. I'd die for her. And it would be worth every penny.
It didn’t even matter if he would do the same. She was mine.
“This—" Elio pointed to his head “—fits into the custom-made helmet fine. Just like my body fits in the driver seat as it should. Going as fast as I do, risking it all, everything needs to be in place. Even if it was not—” he shrugged and then winked at Mia “—worth the risk.”
The entire table seemed to look at me. I guess this was going to be a fucking ping pong game with words. It wasn’t me who answered, though.
“Ah,” Luca breathed out, setting his glass down. “Dying for what we love is only half of the battle. What about living for it as well?”
I’ve been doing that since the first time my eyes met herswas on the tip of my tongue. But there was a certain cadence that needed to be kept when it came to discussions. That statement was too blunt for this subtle sit-down at the dining room table. This wasn’t an average family get together. This was a warning to me.
Luca Fausti had noticed the ring on his granddaughter’s right finger, and her indecision, too. He also knew how complicated she made our relationship. If it didn’t sit right with him, he would change the course.
He’d made men get married before when he felt like it. It took the pressure off them. If the marriage was a failure, it would be Luca’s fault. It would also be his success if it worked out. But given the fact that Mia was his granddaughter, he would move the pieces until he knew she could find happiness in the outcome.
I took another drink and decided to leave his question dangle in the air. It wasn’t meant for me anyway. It was meant for the asshole across the table. He lived and breathed racing.
That question seemed to conclude dinner. The men all stood up and headed toward the bar. Luca had invited us all for cigars and whiskey before we took off. We’d had a tip about Arsenius Bykov, the arms dealer Livia was married to. From what we gathered, he was in town to make a major sale. We wanted to scope out the place and see what we could find.
It was why my little sister, Evelina, flew into town. She was my tip. It was the trust factor again. I trusted the Fausti family to a certain degree, though only select family members. I had complete trust in Mia’s parents, her brothers, her uncles, even Luca when it came to her, along with Guido, Vincenzo, and a few others, but that was as far as my trust extended.
