She’d been touching every counter in the kitchen, almost reverently. She was in awe that it was all hers. It was one of the only rooms I didn’t give my input on. It was hers to do what she wanted with it. The entire house was, but she asked about the rest.
“You work?”she’d asked, her face scrunched up, like she’d never even considered it.
I basked in the fact that we were still getting to know each other, but in some ways, it was as if we had been together forever.“Yeah, I own an investment company with Mariano and Marciano. Marciano is a silent partner. We’re good at dealing with other people’s money. We make them a lot. And it was a way to bring the Fausti family into this age—as far as the dues they pay.”
“Your family has to pay to be…in the family?”She’d really looked at me then.
“However much the individual branches make, the main family gets a cut of. Since my grandfather leads, a cut goes to him. The rest goes into keeping up certain aspects.”
She’d lifted a hand.“Is this business of yours successful? Outside of the family, I mean. And I thought Mariano was a world-renowned soccer, or football, player?”
“He was. He played pro—for Italy, of course. He got hurt and then decided to join me at the firm. He’s also an Italian cowboy—or a buttero.”
“And an Italian Casanova.”
I hadn’t answered, but it was true. My brother was world-renowned for playing the field with women too. I answered her question about my business, though.
“My firm is exceptionally successful, even outside of my family dealings.”
“Let me guess. You make millions.”
I’d smiled and lifted my hand, signaling for her to go up with that assessment. She’d only rolled her eyes and laughed, saying,“I should have known!”
Being good with money was a family trait we all seemed to inherit from our old man. He could take a buck and turn it into a million, and basically, he had. He’d made himself into the man he wanted to be without family help, and still, he had a hard time accepting anything from the Fausti family. He and my grandfather butted heads about this quite a bit.
I’d never had such qualms about it. I was born into this family, their blood ran through me, and even though I liked doing things my way, I’d never pushed against it like Brando Piero Fausti had.
After the kitchen, we’d explored the rest of thecastello, our vision for the place coming to life as we made notes about each inch of it. I fucking loved how excited she was. How infectious she was, like laughter. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so alive. I couldn’t fucking wait to put on a tool belt and do all the heavy lifting for her. Hanging pictures on walls or whatever she needed me to do.
We’d hire outside help, but for the most part, I’d be the one doing specific projects with her. I felt an urgency to make my mark on all the rooms she’d mark with her own style. I needed to entwine myself in her life to the point where nothing, or no one, could ever untangle us. I’d end where she began, and she’d endwhere I began. Our souls would twist together like an eternal circle.
The place even had enough room for the number of men that would be around us daily and nightly too. A must. Just like with my parents’ place, the other villas would be used for housing the soldiers. And since the place came fully furnished, and Stella was in love with most of it, we didn’t have much to pick out there.
Even the four-poster bed in our bedroom fit the romantic and timeless vision she had for these old walls. I just wondered where she’d see herself after she explored more of the world, but she told me this place felt safe, and her heart would always hold a place for it.
I’d heard that before, from my mamma.
This place, though, seemed meant to be. The name of it, after Saverio told us, made us both pause.
Castello Astro.
It was named for its view of the stars after the sun gave over to night.
A contended sigh came from her perfect lips again, even though I knew she was going through a lot. She refused to talk about her mamma, or everything she’d been through with the Nemours and the Russians. Occasionally, she’d say something, but then she’d shut down right after. She said it was because she was building strength to let it all go.
“It seems to take more strength to let it go than to keep it locked up,” she’d said. “Because what happens if it comes back to haunt me after I release it?”
“I fucking won’t let it,” I’d said. “I’m bigger and scarier than anything in this world when it comes to you.”
And I would be.
Especially with the feeling I’d gotten after the moth fluttered down—something was off, but fuck if I would allow the unknown to consume these moments with her. Even though mammacouldn’t tell me what was…off…my sister told me she had a feeling it was all going to work out, even if we’d have our struggles. But like she’d pointed out, what couple doesn’t?
A cool breeze swept up from outside, and with the warm air from the day lingering in our room, it made the temperature tepid. It also picked up her perfume and circulated it around me. I closed my eyes, breathed her in, and ran a hand through my hair.
My heart had a mind of its own, and it controlled my feet, which took me to her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me. I tucked my nose in her neck and breathed her in again.
“You smell so good.” I breathed out, feeling a rush of heat—anger—that I had to. It felt like letting her go, and I wouldn’t lose a breath of her.
