It was a chaste kiss, our lips barely touching, but it sent goosebumps spreading on my arms. She shivered. When we separated, her eyes were closed, and I watched her until she opened them.
“You are so beautiful, Stella,” I whispered.
She turned her face away from mine. “I look like a science project,” she whispered back.
Using my pointer finger again, I turned her face back to mine. I waited until she looked at me. “Those words are a lie, and I don’t do lies. You are beautiful. The most beautiful womanto me.” I repeated the same words but in Italian, pointing to my chest.
She sighed. “I don’t know why, Matteo Fausti, but I believe you mean what you say. I do.”
“Bene,” I whispered. I stood, then leaned down and kissed her forehead before I left the room, my heart staggering behind me.
It was the first time I’d seen my brothers since that night. Again, we didn’t want to overwhelm Stella with our family. It was large, and so was all the men. So, when I entered the car and noticed my brothers in the backseat, we all shook hands and pulled each other in the best we could. Saverio drove us to the private airport. After Stella had been stabilized, she’d been airlifted to a hospital in Tuscany.
We talked about that night some on the short plane ride. It seemed like we all had made enemies. The conversation continued after we landed in Paris and were in route to the French château. Marciano punched the back of my seat some.
“You’re braver than I could ever imagine, Teo.”
“We all went in that night,” I said.
“No, not because of the rescue mission. Because you left Stella behind with mamma and Magpie. You know how those two can be together.”
My face pinched, almost a flinch, and everyone laughed. It felt like the first time everyone felt free enough to. Stella was with us, and it was us against the world. We’d take it on for her, just like we did that night we waged war on Sub Rosa. A surge of pride swelled in my chest. I thanked my brothers, including Saverio, for having my back that night.
They all nodded, probably too choked up to speak. The ride was quiet the rest of the way, but we all seemed to sit up straighter when we came to the gates of the grand French château. The land seemed to go on for miles with manicured lawns and even a helicopter landing.
“Papà has been here before with mamma.” Mariano sat up some, fixing his suit. “When he came back for her after his stintin the Coast Guard, and when she moved to Paris to dance, she was invited to a party here.”
“And since mamma was invited,” Marciano said, “so was papà.”
“Naturalmente,” I said.
Maestro repeatednaturallyin sign language. Most of the time mamma and papà kept him out of the action, since he was much younger than us, but sometimes he’d come along. If he wanted to go, papà never kept him from going. He wanted Maestro to be included, and not feel like he was outside of our bond because he was younger.
“This time, though,” Saverio said, nodding to one of Lev’s men who had a gun strapped across his chest as he allowed us entry into the gates. “The place is ours.”
I tried to see this place through Stella’s eyes. A lavish French mansion on the outside, but inside, it was nothing but a prison to her. I hadn’t asked her what her time was like with the Nemours yet. I wanted to give her some time to breathe and recover. But soon, I wanted to know all her nightmares. What she’d been through. Who the fuck had hacked her hair off. It stood up in some places, and in others she had close to bald spots. Even though none of us knew all she’d been through, it couldn’t have been good. No one, not one soul, had ever reported being treated well by them once their poisonous claws were locked inside. In the beginning, the Nemours made a lot of sparkling promises, but they were never kept.
“Fucking A,” Marciano said, punching the back of the seat a bit.
Motherfucker could never keep still unless he was sick. And when he was, he turned into a big fucking baby about it. The thought made me grin, and sensing that it was about him, he said, “Qualsiasi.”Whatever.
“That’s a lazy response, Marci,” Mariano said, prodding him. “You should come up with something better. Moreeloquent.”
“Call me Marci one more time.”
“Abbastanza,” I said, knowing where this was going, and it wasenough. My brothers wouldn’t touch each other out in public, but back home, inside the ring, they would come close to killing each other. Marciano loathed being called Marci. Mariano knew it. He was pushing Marciano’s buttons for some fucking reason. He’d been in a mood ever since the visit to the jewelers in Venice. Just likeZioRomeo.
“By the way,” I said, remembering, “what the fuck was up withZioRomeo during our meeting with the pirate?”
“One Bertrand Moro.” Saverio put the car in park.
“He found a silver hair.” Marciano grinned. “He’s been in a testy mood ever since. He’s challengedZioDario to more fights in the boxing ring that I can count. He killed Moro. Said he did it to rid the world of vermin who bought and sold flesh.”
“That’s his story, and I know it’s true,” Mariano said. “However, he stuck a sword through the pirate’s heart and pinned him to the side of his boat. The silver hair has wounded him deeply, and the way he killed Moro proves that. He was channeling his own frustration and making a scene of it.”
“Nonno said it was well done,” Marciano said. “Almost poetic. Skewering him to his own boat that way and then taking it out to sea to see him off.”
“If Nonno approved, that’s all that counts.” I stepped out of the car.
