ZioRomeo just wanted an excuse to rib them in the cockpit and maybe direct Rosaria’s attention in a different direction.
“It does my heart good,” I said in Italian to Padrino. “To see my cousin this way.” I nodded toward Massimo and Chloe, even if Padrino hadn’t looked away from his son and his future daughter of the heart.
Padrino stared at Massimo and Chloe more than normal, a yearning in his eyes that made me even hungrier for the same thing. The same connection. The same bond. The same love. Except where mysame thingwas in the close future, Padrino’s hunger might eventually starve him to death.
I loved my uncle, all my uncles, but I understood Rocco Piero Fausti in ways even my father couldn’t. Of late, Padrino and I were locked in a silent battle of wills. He would be king next, but I didn’t appreciate or respect the decision he’d made for me in Paris, when I needed to go back for Stella and he’d silently sided with my mamma. Then he’d allowed Massimo to steal Ivan’s heart because of Chloe. It was my right to do that in honor of Stella. But I knew our time was coming, and if she came out of this safe, I’d owe Padrino for the decision he’d made.
Padrino met my eyes and squeezed my shoulder. When he reached out and made the gesture, I heard mamma sigh. She’d felt it too. All was forgiven between us.
“It does my heart good,” he responded in Italian, “to know my nephew is not marrying for loyalty to the family, but love. As it should be. Love does not weaken the soul but emboldens it.”
Even though the words were spoken quietly, brokenly, Rosaria’s head whipped back, and she shot glares at the both of us. I hadn’t said anything, agreeing or not, but she was still pissed that I’d turned down her sexual advances in Germany.In the Faustifamiglia,all is fair in love and war, and if I would have slept with Rosaria, it would have given me a surge to the top of the food chain. I would have done the same thing as my grandfather had done years ago, taken pictures, and then used them to make Padrino seem weak to the rest of thefamiglia. But I didn’t want to claim thefamigliain such an underhanded way. And since I wanted time with Stella without such a huge responsibility on my shoulders, I’d accept the crown when it was my time.
My uncle and I embraced, and even though Rosaria never made a sound, I could feel the anger rolling off her in waves. It was enough to melt ice on mountains and cause avalanches.
We pulled back, looked each other in the eye, and Padrino nodded before he said, “Saverio will have news for us when we land.”
“If he can’t find any information on Stella’s life before Paris, no one can.” I reached for my water. “Do you know this man we’re going to see?”
Nonno had filled me in before we left Germany. His name was Bertrand Moro. He had a French mother and Italian father, and he had been connected to royalty at one time. He still had the money and status to prove it. Nonno wanted to speak to him before we set our boots on the ground in Paris. He didn’t say much more than that, which made me suspicious.
Padrino signaled the stewardess for a drink. “You are suspicious of the lack of information,” he said, reading my mind.“Bertrand Moro thinks he is a modern-day pirate, and he acts like one. For years, no one has heard from him. It was rumored that he was lost at sea. Recently, the tide has changed, and Moro has washed up. It does not matter where he has been, if he was not on our radar, but he is in good with the Nemours.”
“How good?”
Papà kissed mamma on the head and stood. When he came to our section of the plane, Marciano stood, squeezed papà on the shoulder, and took papà’s seat, falling asleep a second later as mamma scratched his head.
Big fucking baby.
It was like he’d heard me. His eyes opened and he narrowed them at me before he fell back asleep. Mamma laughed softly and closed her eyes.
“Moro buys from them and sells to them,” papà said. He must have overhead my question to Padrino.
Padrino nodded in a solemn way. “Moro’s family goes back generations with the Nemours.”
“Who has a stronger relationship with the Moro family?” I asked. “Us or the Nemours?”
The stewardess set down Padrino’s drink with a shy smile. His eyes were hungry when he took in the gesture, but it was like his drive to hunt had been diminished. My grandfather had been hinting that Padrino might not automatically ascend to the crown once he retired, which was shocking news to all of us except mamma and Mia, being as touched as they were. But it was the first time I really noticed that my uncle looked…lost wasn’t the right word. Neither was despondent. Maybe somewhere between the two. I wondered if that look was something Nonno had caught long before any of the men had. My grandfather was always ten steps ahead, and he was always preparing to keep the crown in our line while protecting thefamigliaat the same time.
Padrino’s eyes went to his drink before he picked it up and downed it. He set the glass down without a noise. “Us, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeated.
“Men’s loyalties reside wherever power and money are,” my father said. “The Faustifamigliatoday, the Nemours tomorrow, depending.”
I signaled to the stewardess by holding up three fingers. She got to work right away, pouring a drink for me, my father, and my uncle this time. Even though Nonno had discussed the meeting with Moro, again, he didn’t go into much detail. I hadn’t asked because I was ready to ride. Each step that I took was a second closer to Stella. My focus on her was the only reason I was late on the jump, and once I asked this question, I knew I wasn’t going to like the fucking answer.
“What does Moro buy and sell?”
“Depends.” Padrino shrugged, his shoulders stretching the expensive fabric.
“Does he buy and sellthings?” I probed.
My father looked me in the eye. “Add people to that list.”
“Women,” I said, feeling the blood turn hot in my veins, swelling them.
Papà nodded. “This meeting might help us get Stella back without putting her in as much danger.”
