She tried to study our faces in the darkness. Mine, especially. But she was oblivious to one set of glaring eyes.
Matteo.
Mariano stood on one side of Evelina, Massimo on the other. Massimo, Rocco’s oldest, was first cousin to my wife and her brothers. My sister carried a small bag of sugar in her hand. The two men next to her might as well have labels on them—I’m the fucking sugar.
Something had happened after that night at S’envoyer en l’air.The Faustis were a romantic bunch. They prided themselves on being able to walk a tight rope between romance and ruthless. Protecting my sister that night had brought out their protective sides. I’d been noticing subtle things since. How Matteo looked at my sister. How Mariano did things for her. And now Massimo had that same glint in his eyes as he noticed how Matteo and Mariano were staring at each other.
The tension made the air feel dry. Or maybe that was me.
My sister knew this life, and she knew the stakes. The Fausti family didn’t operate like a normal family. They had rules, and those rules kept them surviving in a world that constantly changed around them. There was a certain pecking order.
This was one of the reasons why I decided to join their ranks. I was going to marry a daughter of the blood, and I wanted to keep my head on straight while dealing with their family politics.
Rocco would lead the family after something happened to Luca, or after Luca handed it over. Brando made sure of it. After that, Matteo would be up for the position. He was going to take it. He’d already discussed having me as his main council when the day came.
When the day came.
He was counting on it.
He would rule the motherfucker, too. He was born for it.
However. Massimo could challenge him, and that could lead to death for one of them. Mariano came second to all of this, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t catch feelings.
If he did…
It would be bad blood between the two brothers.
Brando and Scarlett didn’t raise them to have an order. Still, the blood ran through their veins, and they somehow fell in line. But that rebellious streak that Brando Fausti flaunted like a pair if steel balls hadn’t escaped his sons.
They might fight over my sister.
Evelina Noemi Maria Macchiavello. The eternal butterfly. She took life in stride, even when she should have been more conscious of her choices.
My mamma raised her to believe she was a butterfly, and like all butterflies, she couldn’t be tamed. Her wings ruled her world, and wherever the nectar was, she followed.
Underneath that head filled with technical wires was a free spirit. And to men who thrived on control, that could be a very dangerous thing. Their need to claim and protect her came naturally.
What they didn’t realize was if anyone needed protecting, it would be them.
From her.
No heart was safe where she was concerned.
Like many women before her, my wife included, she had the potential to start wars. Pair that with the romantic side of the Fausti men…it could easily spell battle, even among blood.
That wasn’t my fucking issue at the moment, though.
My wife.
She was looking up at the man with eyes that reflected the sconces in the casa. A grin on her face at whatever he was saying.
“Evelina,” I said.
“You remember him! Carlo. He’s Greta’s brother. You rememberher. She’s in town and her brother came along. It was a freak thing. We ran into them on the property. Besides. Let me trigger your memory, Casanova. Greta knows this area because ofyou.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Their mamma sent them to pick up chocolate from the aunts. Chocolate for Greta’s wedding. She followed behind us, and so did her brother. It would have looked suspicious if I made a big deal about them hanging out for a bit.”
“Mia knows him.” Scarlett spoke up. “He owns a prop company that supplies theaters all over Italy. Maybe even other countries now. He’s good.”
He probably designed the prop that almost fucking killed me. This kept getting better and better.
