We were on the rooftop of my building in Rome, waiting for Ava to finish getting ready. The women all waited inside. We did not mind speaking in front of Naomi of family business, but Aristide did not want to speak in front of Zeta, his date, and neither did Beni, since he barely knew his date’s name. Naomi separated herself from it on her own.
“If I am going to concern myself with the politics of lions,” she’d once said to me, “I will do it with my own pride.”
The men had been discussing the switching of power and all that it had entailed, smoking cigars, and having a drink before we left for the club. As far as Luca Leone Fausti was concerned, all was settled on the power front, but what had happened in Venice on Ponte dei Pugni still made me uneasy. Leandro’s insubordinate attitude as well.
I set my glass of whiskey down and walked to the edge of the balcony, looking over a red-skied Rome, pulling on the end of the cigar, tasting the flavors through my nose and feeling the scented smoke touch my lungs. The sun set the entire city on fire before the darkness ate it whole.
My phone rang.
“Nazzareno,” I answered, controlling the slow flow of smoke from my mouth.
It was my bride-to-be, Elettra Buratti, checking in. She heard my father was out of the hospital in Venice and had made it safely to Rome. She and her mamma were planning the wedding and wanted to know a good time we could get together to discuss it all.
I did not say anything.
Elettra Buratti was a beautiful woman with an intelligent mind for numbers, but sparks did not fly between us on the first meeting. She was not someone I would gravitate to in a crowd, though she told me I was someone she would. She said we had met a few years prior, but I did not even remember her.
She laughed. “You are probably not interested in all the details. Unless you are?”
“Not particularly.”
“I thought so. I am okay with that. Would you like me to narrow it down to two choices and then you can decide? Or I can involve Belaflore.”
If they involved my mamma, she would take over. But it was Elettra’s choice, and I told her so.
“Bene.” She sighed. “You have been okay? I know things must be hard and busy with Lothario in the hospital. A boating accident.” She gasped. “I cannot even imagine it! Belaflore told mamma you will be going to visit Lothario tomorrow. I will come with you. It will do him good to see us together and hear about the plans we have.”
It was not her fault my life had come to this point. Where I could barely stand to hear her voice on the other end. It was leading me to a point of no return.
“Elettra.”
“Yes?”
“Do you really want to marry me?”
“Or you asking me…for real? Or just in general?”
I was not sure when it became a natural occurrence for a man to ask a woman for her hand in marriage over the phone, but she did not sound phased by the prospect. I wondered if she truly understood the family she had agreed to marry into.
“In general.” I leaned over the balcony, setting my hands over it, watching as the smoke purled to the sky.
“Yes.I must admit something to you. We met all those years ago, and I…I had a crush on you ever since.” She laughed, embarrassed.
Not like the woman in my penthouse who blazed a trail when it came to her words and owning them.
I told Elettra we would talk soon, and we hung up. I finished my cigar and turned at the sound of laugher. The girl Beni brought was dancing on the roof, acting as if she was roping a wild animal and howling.
Beni sat, watching her, smiling.
The three of us—myself, Aristide, Valerio—were all dressed similarly. Black suit jacket, white button-down shirt, and black slacks. We all wore signet rings on our little fingers with a lion stamped on them, the letter F behind the face of the beast, even Beni. Gemstones the color of our birthstones created the eyes.
Beni wore a hot-pink shirt underneath his black suit and a childish grin on his face when he was howling with his date.
Valerio and I locked eyes but did not say anything. We did not have to.
My father had it correct. He was different.
Aristide stood on the other side of the roof, talking to Zeta privately. The conversation was whispered, and when Zeta’s eyes met mine, she hurriedly turned them back to Aristide.
