My father stood. I stood.
He was so quick, I barely caught him move around the desk, his hand coming to my throat, forcing me against the glass wall. We hit so hard, it cracked. From behind me, it probably looked as if lighting was forking through my body from the slit in the glass, allowing the watery darkness to leak insideCastello Sul Mareand shock us both.
My eyes refused to move from his and his from mine.
Father and son locked in a bloody battle that spanned generations.
A few seconds before he got his point across—son or no, he would meet me in the arena if I ever outright challenged him—a figure appeared in the office behind us.
My Amora.
She stared at me, a panic-stricken look on her face, but her stance was the opposite—she would attack him from behind if he did not release me. He set me to my feet, turning to meet her stare.
Amora cleared her throat, though no words followed. But the look in her eyes seemed to be piercing through him as tears ran down her cheeks.
Moving from the wall, fixing my suit, I took her by the shoulders and led her out of the office. Scarlett and Brando waited outside of it, and after I nodded, Scarlett took her by the shoulders and moved her away from it. Her glistening eyes refused to leave mine until she turned the corner. Brando nodded at me, pride in his eyes, following behind them.
The door to the office was cracked, and I waited for permission again before I entered. My father stood with his back to me, eyes searching the darkness for whatever he wished to find, a glass of whiskey in his powerful hand. The feel of it was still around my throat, though being close to the grave all these years had numbed me to the reverberating sting of it.
He lifted the glass closer to his mouth, cleared the roughness from his throat, though it still lingered when he spoke. “The island will be cleared of visitors by next weekend. You will take the time for yourselves, but at the end of your time, you, me, or God will decide, ah?”
With that decree as an ending to our meeting, he dismissed me.
Chapter 22
Move Together
My feet refused to still. I paced the length of my apartment, thinking about what I had planned to do if Luca Fausti hadn’t released Rocco when he had. I would have jumped on his back like a spider monkey while screeching like a banshee! The sight of it had stopped me cold for a second though.
Maybe the way his father was almost strangling him was the way “situations” were handled in their family, but it gave me a glimpse into Rocco’s life, and it made me so sad.
Did anyone care about his flesh enough to step between him and another monster? What about his well-being? Even deeper—his feelings? His heart?
It made me hurt down to the core of who I was. And I vowed then and there, in that breath, that if no one else would or could stand up for him, I would. I’d stand between a bullet and him. He deserved that—someone who loved him enough to sacrifice their life for him, like he’d sacrificed for his family his entire life. I yearned to make Rocco Fausti’s life so good, it would almost break his heart, the amount of love in it.
But I knew something had been wrong when Rocco left for the meeting. I’d felt it as he left. I’d suggested baking cookies withJuliette while the game Romeo had brought over started to rage so I could concentrate on my feelings and have an excuse to bring something to thecastello. It was worth noting, though, that without all the rules that surround this family, Rocco’s close family were a fun bunch. But without him, nothing seemed fun to me. He should have been enjoying his family, instead of getting slammed up against a glass wall. I shivered when I thought about him going through it. The thought of him not being in my life…
My feet seemed to move even faster. I was taking turns so sharp, I wondered if I was going to leave tread marks.
Scarlett had looked at me with understanding—even though I’d said I’d wanted to bring the cookies to thecastellofor everyone there to enjoy, she knew I’d felt something, and Brando, without a word, walked us.
Brando looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time, and when our eyes met, he nodded at me.
One simple nod, and I knew exactly what he was telling me.
He approved of me for his brother.
It sent a warm rush through my chest that seemed to send my heart into the pit of my stomach.
There was a lot about this family I still had to learn about and understand. I remembered what Nonna had said, the warning, but my heart was already invested—fully, whether it would kill me one day or not. I already knew I didn’t give a shit about the politics of the family, but only one part of it—Rocco Fausti. I was here for him.
I’d pass this fucking test of time for him.
The end.
When he finally entered the apartment, I stopped short. We stared at each other from across the room, Scarlett and Brando slipping out without a word, Brando shutting the door behind them with a softclick.
Rocco stood on one side of the room. I stood on the other.
