“Am I afraid of those two women? I am wary, but not afraid. Because I am driven by something stronger than whatever drives them. I am doing all of this for us.Myfamily. The power will stay in my grandfather’s line, my father’s line, and it will be our line that will carry it on. Luca will fight me for it. I can feel it coming. The entire family feels it coming.
“Soon, we will be invited to Venice, the City of Masks, so Luca can reveal himself and attempt to claim the throne. He will not win this time. I am strengthening our ties and securing our lineage. This is the time we will learn who our friends are. Our foes, as well.”
We grew quiet as the car pulled up to my parents’ gated estate in Rome. It had been built by Italian royalty—someone in my family—in 1640. It was used to impress aristocrats and similar guests who were en route to Rome. My family had invited Elettra Buratti and her family over for a private meeting before we went public with the marriage announcement.
The armored car took the long driveway and parked in front of the villa.
My father fixed my cap and straightened my collar. “Do not change. A woman loves a man in uniform. And if she does not, she will still love you—you are a Fausti. Our blood runs through your veins. You do not lose. Remember that, ah?”
The guard opened my father’s door, and he fixed his suit as he stepped out. The second guard opened my door, but I took a second to sit and think.
I wondered if Elettra Buratti’s family lived behind beautiful ornate gates like the ones that protected my family’s villa. And I wondered if, behind those gates, her family was as vicious as mine.
FIVE
AVA
John F. KennedyInternational airport must have been hopping. It seemed like I spotted airplanes every time I looked up at the sky. It was something I did sometimes. Watch as they cruised the air like a steel bird, trying to imagine how free the passengers felt having temporary wings. I wasn’t sure how many people each plane could hold, but each one of those people were going somewhere or had been somewhere.
I cherished the idea of it.
Having the courage to fly thousands of feet above ground to get to where you wanted or needed to go.
Sometimes when a sense of melancholy refused to get out from under my skin, I’d go to the airport. I’d hang around, like I was one of the people heading toward another road in my journey. I’d pretend to be the woman who was leaving for a while, her purpose bringing her closer to what she’d always dreamed of.
Going to Italy to find the Faustis.
I’d had chances and the money to, but no time had felt like the right time. Maybe because I was still hung up on earning a reason to go, such as one of them agreeing to let me in. Entrance happened occasionally, like it did with Edna’s dad, but a certain level of trust had to be earned.
If I just showed up and tried to knock on one their doors? It would seem like I was just a nosy reporter who had done nothing to earn her place.
I had, though.
I had worked hard to write pieces on them that were accurate. I was conscientious about only including facts and not opinions. They didn’t want to always be shown in a charming light, but they also didn’t want to be only shown for the darkness they cast either.
It was a fine line with them, and I felt like I was close to being able to walk it without my knees going wobbly. Once I was fully balanced, I’d be certain I’d earned my ticket to Italy and into the den of lions.
I’d tell Lilo these things, and he’d listen, then sometimes he’d tell me I was bullshitting. I was making excuses for why I’d never traveled to Italy to track them down. He said I talked a big game, but when it came to putting my money where my mouth was, truth was…I was scared.
Scared of meeting one of them and being let down. Then everything I based my life on, the thoughts, dreams, time, energy, breath I’d devoted to them, would feel like a waste.
Where would I go after that?
Where would I end up?
Purposeless and wandering?
Nothing or no one to call my own?
Lilo never pushed me to answer, because the truth was…I didn’t want to consider those questions. Iwastoo afraid to ask myself them.
I wasn’t too concerned, though, about the Faustis not living up to the hype. Edna had been indifferent to them until she met Marzio Fausti. After that, she’d devoted her life to writing articles and books about them, even though she refused to publish the books. That was how charmingandmysterious Marzio had been to her.
She’d told me that meeting Marzio Piero Fausti had changed her life—irrevocably.
How many people had those once in a lifetime experiences like Edna had? It didn’t seem like many, judging by the rush I was usually caught up in, people always desperate to find the one thing that would fulfill them.
Edna never had that urgency or misdirection about her. She’d found all her fulfillment in Marzio Fausti.
