“I’m glad to see you made it out of the palazzo without staying lost,” she said, her voice as soft and warm as her touch.
“No,” I whispered. “I might have been lost for a while, but I was found in that huge maze.”
She looked between Nazzareno and me, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Sometimes when we think we’re lost, we’re not lost at all, but on our way to where we’re supposed to be. We must have faith that our love is directing our steps.”
“That’s so deep,” Juliette said.
Romeo sniffed, but he wasn’t crying. “Sissy moves us with her words.”
Juliette rubbed his back. Carmen grinned at me.
Brando…Brando was gazing at his wife like she’d created the clouds, and he was floating in them. Okay. Maybe that was a soft metaphor for him, because he was all brooding darkness, but the truth was in his eyes.
He was so in love with her.
It was moving.
In fact, I could tell they were all in love with their wives.
Except for Rocco, who I hadn’t seen with his.
The wife I was about to talk to about Tigran Macaluso—the man she might or might not be in love with.
Rocco was talking to Nazzareno, and they seemed to have a close relationship, but I had noticed something that made Rocco stand out among his brothers and cousin.
He wore loneliness like a cologne.
If all these men were statues, he’d be the most solitary figure, gazing out with eyes that couldn’t seem to find the end to his torture, because there was another side to him still missing.
He was the kind of man who, on the inside, seemed to be…a deserted island. I recognized it, maybe because I’d been called a lonely bird before. There was something deep inside of me that burned to show him love, to hug him tight and tell him he wasn’t alone.
His gaze moved from Nazzareno to me, and he studied me for a second before he turned back to the conversation.
His green eyes were warm, but there was something cold about his demeanor. Guarded.
Maybe because of who I was.
The chilliness disappeared when his eyes roamed to Scarlett for a second, then smoothly went back to Nazzareno, who had quickly glanced at me too.
Brando had noticed it all.
These men could focus on the conversation and keep an eye on their women, like they were just smoothly sipping whiskey and smoking cigars.
Then a familiar face showed up, and I noticed how rigid Nazzareno became.
Renato.
The cousin from the event in Venice.
Renato was with his own group, and the men greeted each other before they nodded to the wives. Renato’s eyes lit up when he noticed me.
Nazzareno stepped away from Rocco when Renato took a step closer to me.
Rocco’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them and then at me. His searching gaze wasn’t as chilled, and I wondered if it was because suddenly, I was a person of interest.
Renato took my hand and kissed it. “Peperone,” he whispered.
I held back the urge to laugh. It sounded like he had just called me pepperoni.
