“Obviously. Which one?”
“My parent’s wedding. That’s the only one.”
“Okay. How did they know anything about your parents? You? It was never announced who I married.”
“Records,” I said. “Those are public.”
She flew up. Her momentum sent the chair rocking back and forth, like a ghost was sitting in it. “You announced it,” she seethed. “They know! They know who you are to me now!”
I met her in her fury. “Yeah, they do know. I had enough of the hiding. You are my wife. The most honorable thing I’ve ever done. The one thing I’m most proud of. So let them know. Let them all know. The entire fucking worldwillknow!”
Her grandfather had come to me with a choice. Hide our marriage or let the record go public. It wasn’t in my nature to hide. Hiding meant fear, just like a lie did. Once she said those vows to me, there was no turning back. The entire world would know who this woman was to me and what she meant. They would know I’d burn the motherfucker to the ground to keep her safe.
Because just like with anything good and sacred, the world would try to break us down. Bykov today; the Elio, Carlo, and Gretas of the world tomorrow. We might as well do this on our terms and fuck the rest.
Besides, that was another test from Luca Fausti. If I agreed to keep our marriage hidden, what did that say about the man who married his granddaughter? I was a fucking coward.
I was a dangerous animal with a tail, but I never tucked it between my legs. I never would. I was the son of Mac Macchiavello. A lone wolf. The Machiavellian Prince. Enough said.
She went a little berserk, her fists clenched, turning in circles. Maybe looking for something to hurl at my head. I took her by the arms, forcing her to look at me. Three words left my mouth.
“We got this.”
“Wedon’t have shit if you don’t trust me enough to confide in me!”
I nodded. “Noted.”
“Don’t do that to me again, Saverio. Keep me out of this.” She motioned between us, like we were a loop. A figure eight. An eternity.
“Concordata,” I said.Agreed.
She stared up at me for a second before she nodded. Her head hit my chest. “You take care of me,” she said. “I take care of you. That’s what we vowed. Don’t deny me that.”
“You don’t need to worry.” Especially about the price on my head.
“Too late for that. I worry about you like you’re carrying around my heart in your hands and life is constantly throwing stones. Constantly throwing things that can do irreparable damage.”
I moved so fast that she gasped, gripping my arms. I’d dipped her, like we were dancing. “I’m fucking quick.”
She looked up at me, her hair like a waterfall behind her. “For some things,” she breathed out.
“A man of many talents.”
“Concordata,” she whispered.
I pulled her up and kept her close to my body. I kissed her on the forehead. “Come, baby,” I said. “It’s time to move.”
She nodded. She looked around the place like she was taking it in. I looked at her the same way. Her hair was full, like the hot air had made it swell. Her face was flawless. Her wedding rings caught the light but couldn’t compare to the color of her eyes.
“You’ll be back,” I said.
“With you.” It almost sounded like a question, but it wasn’t. She claimed it.
“With me.”
We left our bags, only leaving with the clothes on our backs. I was dressed in a white t-shirt, khaki pants, and work boots. I pulled the hat lower on my head, keeping my eyes in shadow.
Taking her hand, we met with our group. A few work trucks were parked in the driveway leading to the main villa, idling behind the closed gates. The men in our group piled in. Scarlett and Brando drove in one of their own. My parents, too.
