He returned it, but where my smile was probably gentle, his was almost…shocking. Hypnotizing in its beauty. Until the sharpness of his teeth pierced holes in the neck, right over one of the most important veins.
“Do not think—” he touched his temple “—I do not know that you see me,Amora Bella. You see me for all that I am. You do not see me as entirely good. You do not see me as entirely bad either.”
“You are correct,” I said in Italian, and at the same time, the light from outside seemed to shift, the colors of the mosaic falling upon his face. “I see you as a man, the head of this family, who makes decisions based on what is best for those he cares for.”
He made a gruff noise and turned away from me for a second, the candlelight dancing in his dark eyes, before he turned them back on me. “You see my son,” he said.
“Down to his soul,” I whispered, touching my heart. “You might have created him, but you did so for me.”
“You are romantic,Amora Bella.”
“Romantic, yes,” I said. “But for him—that romance would turn ruthless in the span of one heartbeat, one breath.”
“Ah,” he breathed out, and the candles seemed to sway as if another gust of sea air had caused them to move. “A true woman of the Fausti heart.”
I touched my heart again. “Who I am with your son is not who I will be to the outside world. I know my place next to him, and I know my place in his world.” I felt it was important for me to say these words to him. We were on an island owned by the Faustis to relax and have privacy. Who I was here was not who I was going to be in their world. I’d be a Fausti. A woman who kept her chin high as I held onto my husband’s arm.
Luca stared into my eyes so deeply, and for so long, that I started to sweat, but I refused to look away from him.
Actions spoke louder than words.
And finally.
Checkmate.
He covered my hand with his own, the ring on my left finger digging into his flesh and mine. “You arrived in time to save my son, daughter of my heart,” he said.
Nodding, I whispered, “Papà.”
I wasn’t sure a man like him could melt, but that was exactly what it felt like when I’d said the word—like he’d turned into one of the candles burning for someone’s prayer and was shedding wax for it.
He placed a kiss on my hand, then took it as he led me out of the church. We repeated the same steps as we did when we first entered, and when we stepped outside, he handed Rocco’s sunglasses back to me.
Our relationship had transformed inside of that church, as a sinner is after leaving confession. Earlier, tension had been coming from me, and reservations from him—we didn’t know where westood with each other. But on the ride back toCastello Sul Mare, there was a familiarity there that wasn’t before. We chatted about the wedding, discussing potential reception spots, and we both laughed when Pisolino jumped into my lap when we stopped to allow an older couple to cross the street.
“He’s always doing that,” I said. “Finding me on the island.”
“He is my son in his true form,” he said, smiling.
“A cat.” I attempted to cover Pisolino’s ears. “Except in a much, much bigger body. And with a lot more hair. A mane of it.”
He almost growled with laughter, and Pisolino gave him a curious look. We sped around the island, and I noticed we were making our final loop by going on the side of it that I hadn’t been since the day at the beach and what followed—the attack in the hauntedcastello. Men surrounded it, and Luca narrowed his eyes before he pulled to the side of the road.
Donato stopped a few feet from the car, and after Luca nodded and got out to meet him, Donato began speaking in hushed Italian. I only caught Rocco’s name. Luca became stiff, then turned toward me, coming to open my door.
We walked up to thecastellotogether, the men parting for him, giving us a clear pathway. I could hear the grunts echoing. Grunts. Growls. Anger and despair all rolled into one. It sounded like a possessed man was taking a sledgehammer to the walls.
That was exactly what we found.
Rocco, except instead of a sledgehammer, he was using his fists.
His suit jacket had been flung to the floor, his sleeves rolled up, and he was going after the wall as if it had personally attacked him.
Had something attacked him?
Oh God.
He was bleeding.
