What did he do to her?
Perhaps he had touched another woman, and she fell to pieces?
I could see that inside of her. A jealousy that came through her eyes at the mere thought of him looking at or touching another woman.
“Grow a backbone” was on the tip of my tongue, but I could not bring myself to even whisper it. She had one, but it was weak when it came to her man. That was only going to cause her heartache. Those men were not meant for one woman. How many times did I have to repeat this mantra to myself? And should I repeat it to her?
Not my battle.
I preferred to watch what was going on before me, and whatever Brando was saying to her seemed to be hitting a nerve. Her jaw was clenched, and so was the set of her teeth when she said something to him. I had to give it to the toy, she was standing up to him in her own way. I wanted to applaud her and say“bravo,”but I did not want them to know I was watching. I doubted they would have even cared. It was as if they shared one world, only the two of them in it.
This.
The two of them.
That was what my husband wanted.
And if Brando Fausti came before my husband in lineage and wanted what my husband had? The Fausti Kingdom?
Well, Brando Fausti would just have to die. Condolences to his toy.
Brando released the little ballerina’s arm, circling her, running a hand thorough his hair. This was something his brother never did. Rocco could be as still as standing water, and then a monster wouldappear from the depths of it, taking a head off and spitting it out, as if he were only eating dinner.
A few guests rushed past me onto the balcony, not wanting to miss the firework display. I would have loved to break their hearts with this news. The real show had been on that balcony, and it was coming to an end. A few people took positions next to me. A few started to press against my back. I growled in frustration, and a woman cowered, moving closer to her husband for protection.
Cha!I would eathimalive.
I untangled myself from the clump of bright eyes watching fireworks explode over Olivier’s rich French estate and caught the two feuding lovebirds as they made a hasty exit.
Olivier suddenly appeared next to me. “Luca’s son?” He quirked a brow up at me.
I knew better than to take the bait. “Many men have made claims such as his over the years.”
“Perhaps,” he said slowly, running his fingertip up and down my arm. “But none of them had Luca’s face and powerful build to back up the claim.”
I said nothing to him as I looked into his eyes. He lifted a mask, turning it left and right between his fingers. It was split in half by two colors. Crushed red rubies on one side and crushed canary diamonds on the other. He secured it to my face and set his hand on my back, thinking he was going to lead me to a private section of his expansive property for our planned party.
I refused to go.
He sighed. “What is it?”
“What is your trouble with the ballerina and the man who claims he has Fausti blood?”
His face tensed and his eyes lit. Olivier had a temper, and a possessive streak to win, but since I never made myself a challenge for him, I was safe on the second issue. Safe on the first as well. He did not want to fuck with me. After he took drugs to fuck every person at his party, I would not think twice about stabbing him inhis heart while his cock lay limp against his thigh. Perhaps I would even take it as a souvenir.
“It is not an issue…yet. He is going to make it one. I want what he believes is his. He cannot have her. The end. Let us go.”
I stepped away from him. “Where are they going?” There was no doubt in my mind that Olivier was tracking the toy, therefore, Brando was being tracked by association. If Olivier had enough of the game, he would try to have Brando killed.
If Brando truly did belong to the Faustis, which every bone in my body screamed he did, then it would start a war between the two families, Brando associating or not. The Fausti family was not going to allow the Nemours to dispose of one of their own without repercussions. Perhaps my husband and his brothers did not know about this son, but the old man—Marzio—certainly did. He knew everything.
“I believe to my exclusive club, Sub Rosa.”
“The one where a rose is required to get in?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I want a rose.”
