Just as the ring I’d had made for him would reflect on his left finger.
The only claim the dress could have to the Fausti family was the merger of past and future. It was classic with modern touches. A symbolic representation of how ancient they were, but how they were able to not only survive but thrive in this time.
Still.
My love and loyalty were Rocco Piero Fausti’s only.
I’d double-cross the Faustis without even blinking or thinking twice if it came down to him or them.
“He will owe blood to her for this!” Papà Fausti’s voice echoed from someplace close by, as low as a warning rumble, but as piercing at the canine teeth that pops flesh in a striking punishment.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “He’s bled enough for his family.”
This was betweenus. I’d handle this—him—in my own way. Not the Fausti way. Not when it came to matters ofourhearts.
Sighing, I shut myself in the stone building, filled with items that didn’t belong to me, locking the doors after, as if my beloved’s hell was mine, and the only way to release me was the lock only he could break.
Chapter 27
Senza Fine
July Seventh—the year does not matter.
The day of our wedding, the day of the first day of my life, the rest of my life with the woman who owned the lion inside of my chest. I was not late but standing next to a tree not far from the church. I did not wish to be too close to her, but my heart refused to allow even this much space between us.
After my Amora had appeared in my life, my heart began its rule over my feet. The only part of me that agreed to the space between she and I was my mind.
Ssshe is ssssafer away from you, it chanted.
My heart roared wildly back, prepared to defend her to the death, overtaking the chanting voice, but it always slithered back in.
Her life will become yours. Ssshe cannot handle the dangers that come with the name Fausti.
How many times had my family and I gone to war over the sister of my heart?
How many times did the sister of my heart almost lose her mind and heart over the danger my brother had been put in?
If our lives continued to entangle, it would mean that my love was not strong enough to save her by releasing her.
My fighting heart countered back—if we release her, wearedead, and so is she. Her breath is ours, and our breath is hers. Her blood is ours, as our blood is hers. It is a love dependent on two. He and she. You and her. All those years without her almost sent us to the grave, buried alive, without the taste of her love on our lips.
My head was logical and practical. My heart wasselvaggio(wild) anddrammatico—there were no rules when it came to us, except for one: only her, only me. It was not a conscious rule either. My heart would not allow me to touch another out of desire. My Amora had consumed me, body and soul, with whatever word meant beyond love. Perhaps none existed. It was too powerful to be named.
I felt manic, out of fucking control, not sure which direction to go in, forward or backward, but I kept as still as a deeply rooted tree. I looked down at my feet. I had moved forward without conscious thought. Perhaps I had been moving all along and did not even realize it.
My older brother appeared in my line of sight. His eyes were narrowed in my direction. Brando fixed his suit, then started forward. My sons surrounded him as they came toward me.
I faced off with them, a son on each side of my brother.
“I have one question to ask you from the smartest and most beautiful woman, inmyeyes, who’s ever graced this earth,” Brando said.
I nodded.
“What is a wedding without a bride?”
My eyes narrowed against his.
What is a wedding without a bride?
