Lev sat back, as casual as if we were talking about two teams trading players. “Your family is powerful. You have proven it time and time again. It would be a deal that would profit everyone. We want a connection to the Fausti family. This would be doable for you. Your eldest son will marry an Italian, keeping with tradition. This son is your youngest.” He opened and closed his hands. That settled that.
It didn’t really matter who Maestro married, because he was not subjected to the same rules Matteo would be if he ruled the kingdom. Their hierarchy mirrored a royal one.
“We want a connection to the Fausti family.”
Most people in our world did. Even people outside of it. It might not matter to the Fausti family, as much, who Maestro married, but it would still be world news someday.
“You won’t tell us what you know,” Scarlett said, almost breathless. Not from fear. She was pissed off and trying to keep her temper. “Unless we sell our son for information for our daughter.”
Lev nodded. “Unless the deal is made,zolotse.” He took another drink of vodka. “The marriage will take place in the years to come. They will both have time to get used to the idea. However. He will not meet her before. She will not meet him. He can look at the picture, but that is it.”
“Who is she?” Scarlett nodded to where the picture had been. I had a feeling she already knew the answer to that or had a feeling about it. She wanted him to say it.
We all went to look toward the picture, but it was gone. Maestro held it in his hands, looking at it. Mia squeezed my hand. With her free one, she tried to get his attention, but he refused to look at her. He refused to look at anyone.
“She is the descendent of royal blood. She is also, ah…special,” he said, like he had trouble remembering the English word for it. “That is all that needs to be known. Her name will be revealed when the contract is drawn up.” He looked at Rocco.
“This is my decision,” Maestro said quietly after a few more minutes. He looked up and met Lev’s eyes. “I will be back.”
“Maestro—” Mia went to grab him, but he walked out with the picture.
The table was quiet. Forks occasionally slid against plates, or a glass was set down. But no one said anything. The air held weight to it.
In the silence, a piano started to play. It was in the front of the restaurant. Tommaso’s wife often played it for their customers. The song had a sad melody, but then it turned into something undeniably powerful. Maybe something about love. I wasn’t skilled in the art of musical notes, but it was what I felt.
Maestro was a music prodigy. Where spoken words failed him at times, music came in and saved him.
A tear slipped down Mia’s cheek, and I wiped it. Scarlett’s face was impassive, but the death grip she had on her husband’s hand told another story.
An hour later, Maestro sat back at the table and motioned for Rocco to slide him the envelope. He slipped the picture back in with a piece of paper. An order sheet from the restaurant.
He slid it across the table to Lev, who caught it with one hand.
“Bring that to my wife,” he said. “It is not a picture of me, but something much more personal.”
It was a song. I saw the notes burning through the paper before he tucked it into the envelope. He’d written it for her. And by the tone of his voice, he’d already claimed her.My wife.
Lev nodded. “She is special,” he repeated.
So am I,Maestro signed.Now tell us we what need to know so we can finish this war against the men who want to hurt my sister and her husband.
Lev nodded again, understanding.
Maestro pulled his plate closer and ate while Rocco drew up the papers. Brando wouldn’t allow them to be signed until Lev told us what was going on. It showed good faith on both sides.
After that, another arrangement was made, and then we headed to New York.
Chapter30
Saverio
The car shimmied, and the lights of New York wavered in my wife's eyes. She stared out the window, her hand on my wrist, absentmindedly stroking the tattoo on my hand.
Quiet. She had been the entire plane ride from Sicily, and now in the car.
She was thinking about her brother’s arranged marriage and the news that was exchanged for it. I doubted any of us could stop thinking about it and what it meant.
Arsenius Bykov had gone into this war alone, thinking that the inside information he had on the Fausti family would be enough. He thought Cerise and Livia had enough information to ruin them from the inside out. He was sadly mistaken, and so were they, if they thought times didn’t change—the Fausti family’s security operations with it.
