Being caught!
He took a shuddering breath, the warmth of it touching my foot when he released it. He said something in Italian and studied my face carefully when I tried to understand it. A few breaths later, he cleared his throat.
“Are you sorry about my father, wild birdie? Or are you sorry that you did not get to see him bleed out in real time when his brother cut his legs off?”
The breath I was about to take got stuck in my throat, but I held the urge to explosively cough down. He wasn’t finished.
“Are you sorry you missed his roar of pain? Or did you catch that part? Tell me,uccellino selvatico, what will the headline read when you write this article? ‘My dangerous obsession has led me…’”
Right to you,the most dangerous Fausti of all to the health of my heart, I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut.
My chest felt tight. My throat burned.
I couldn’t answer.
What was the point? It was my word against years of my actions.
Whoever had called must have told him all about me and not to trust me.
Fucking A.
He shouldn’t.
Just like it was for the best if I didn’t trust him either.
I was a wild bird who needed my wings, and most importantly, my heart.
I refused to let him steal it.
But it didn’t matter anyway.
I could sense he had locked me out.
THIRTEEN
NAZZARENO
Her fierce blue eyes,which empyrean skies could not even compete with, locked with mine. Her chin raised a subtle bit. Her arms crossed.
Whatever I felt from her, apart from physical attraction, had been locked inside a covered cage.
Either her truth or her lies.
At the palazzo, when Rocco had told me she was part of the press, I had assumed she was like the rest—there for a story to report on and then move on from. But mycuginohad called to inform me of how deep her obsession with my family went.
Years and years back, and to a degree that was compulsive.
Her presence in the restricted area of the palazzo during the meeting between my father and uncle went with her character.
She had been there for the blood. It still stained her feet as it had stained my hands. But while she collected it to share with the world, I had tried to stop the hemorrhaging.
Her history and obsession steeled my resolve when it came to whatever existed between us. She was a complication.
Ifany feelings truly existed between us.
She was only obsessed with all things Fausti.
She even worked for a woman who had been infatuated with my grandfather to an unhealthy degree.
