It was partly because of Francesco’s insistent stare. Mostly, it was because of what the mean pepper picker had said to me. WasRocco into sharing? Didn’t seem like it. His words were clear enough when I’d asked him about my place in his life—no man but him. And when I’d told him I didn’t share, he seemed relieved, like a weight had been taken from his chest.
I was used to compartmentalizing reality from inside of my mind—my arms and legs still working while my mind wandered off—so after I took Francesco’s money and handed him the bag of peppers, I went back to my thoughts. He wasn’t moving though.
“Something wrong?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun. I’d left my sunglasses at the apartment on the counter.
“No,bella, everything is just right.” He winked.
A lump formed in my throat. I nodded.
He didn’t move.
That Fausti tattoo on his chest, glistening in the sun, took up almost his entire chest all the way to his stomach, which rippled with muscle. Maybe he was around my age. Maybe a little older. But he had no silver in his inky hair. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head, and his brown eyes were lighter than the color of his skin, which made them pop against his darkness.
The mean Pepper Picker came to stand next to me.
“Francesco,” she said, her tone playful. “You do realize she has been claimed by the future king himself?” She nodded toward the pendant, which sent his eyes back to my boobs.
Francesco grinned at this after his eyes roamed back up. “The futurekinghas a revolving door of women.” He looked me up and down in a way that was not meant to be friendly. “Aria Bellashould not be one. She isthewoman, not an ordinary woman to be clumped into a group with them.”
“Uh oh,” Mean Pepper Picker almost breathed in my ear. She sniffed. “I smell trouble brewing.”
A strong urge to slap at her came over me then, but it was warring with the strong urge to back away from this man, then run away from him. But I sensed it. The thrill of the hunt. Women know this feeling—it happens every day to them. With these men it was different, though. They were used to womensacrificing themselves for their needs. Look how quickly I had submitted to thefuture king of Italy, who, even when he was married to Rosaria Caffi was a womanizer, or so mean Pepper Picker had claimed. I’d found no lie in her truth.
“Shall I walk you home, Aria Bella?” Francesco wasn’t being quiet, and I wasn’t sure if that was on purpose or not.
One second, Francesco was standing in front of me, and the next, a body collided with his and flung him to the ground. Francesco had tried to right himself, and the leftover peppers in the baskets were caught in the crossfire. They scattered along the street, glistening like spicy blood clots. The mean Pepper Picker flew out of the stall, attempting to save them.
My attention, though, was stuck on the two men in the street, standing nose to nose, breathing fire at each other. Rocco had almost knocked him into next year with that hit. Francesco stood tall, but I could tell he was hurting.
Suddenly, Scarlett and Mia were next to me, guiding me out of the stall. We stood back, but Brando, Dario, and Romeo were standing close to Rocco. The men who had accompanied Francesco stood close to him. My heart was pounding too loudly in my ears to hear the conversation. I braced for the next hit, but I wasn’t sure if it would come.
It seemed like a dare was set between them.
Rocco said something to Francesco.
Francesco listened intently.
Their eyes were hard on each other’s.
Then Francesco lowered his eyes and took a step back in answer. It was like he was taking a step out of the ring, denying whatever challenge Rocco had laid at his feet.
“That guy, Francesco,” Mia whispered in my ear. “He’s my great-grandfather Marzio’s great-great nephew. Francesco, the original, was my great-grandfather’s brother. Their line has always been eager to take over the family. They’ve tried but failed. This Francesco, under his father’s guidance, is going to push the issue and, later, present a challenge toPadrino…”
I glanced at Mia, and it seemed like she wanted to say more but had decided not to.
What was going on?
At lunch on Sunday, after church, I’d pieced together that Luca Fausti ruled the family, and in the future, Rocco would. That made him the future King of Italy, but what was all this challenge business about? Did something happen to make the family doubt that Rocco could rule? Was that what this was all about?
Francesco went to walk off, but then stopped. I heard his voice loud and clear.
“A million dollars for a night with Aria Bella.” He nodded toward me.
I glanced at Scarlett this time, and her eyes were in the distance, like she was in a completely different time and place, seeing something none of us were. My eyes flew forward when another crash seemed to shake the earth underneath my feet. Rocco had hit him again, but this time, he slammed him against a stone wall. Francesco took the hit, his eyes serious on Rocco’s.
I’d be shitting my pants if I were Francesco. I wasn’t even sure if their ages matched, if Francesco could ever match all that Rocco was.
Rocco was, quite honestly, in this setting, terrifying. His grin appeared in my memories from earlier, and I shivered. Then I gasped when Rocco pulled a knife out and pushed it against Francesco’s throat. Blood welled as soon as the sharp iron touched his skin. I went to move, to stop this effing madness, but Mia grabbed my arm.
