Especially knowing what I had learned on my own after the party.
Brando Fausti was older than my husband. Brando was born in August, and my husband in November of the same year.
Sighing, I admitted to myself that my sleuthing was getting out of hand when it came to Brando and his toy, and I was not ready for the trail to lead back to me. However, I knew it was going to after what I did that day. I was going to contact the spinning toy.
For whatever reason, she had decided to relocate from Paris to Milan for the ballet. I suspected this had to do with Olivier. He was not a man to waste time on dancers he felt were beneath a monetary line. I saw the way he looked at the spinning toy, and how mesmerized he was by her. He knew Brando Fausti was going to be a problem, but since this Brando did not carry the weight of the Fausti name with him, perhaps Olivier thought he could start something on his terms.
However, I saw and heard the pride in the spinning toy’s eyes and voice as she had announced to the crowd Brando’s father’s name. Perhaps this was her way of moving closer to Italy, so the claim on him and him on them would not be countries apart. Or was the fierce pride she displayed for her man only? Either way. There was pride there. Perhaps Olivier was putting too much pressure on her. If she started to decline, he would start her on drugs so she would perform as he wanted her to.
In terms of criminal families, the Nemours could not hold a candle to the Faustis. Even though they were powerful, they did not get there by dealing in flesh. The Fausti men loved women. Revered them. Blah. Blah. Blah. But at least it was not a jail. If anything, it was a golden cage. I could deal with gold.
I wondered if the ballerina could deal with the same if it meant trading in the man on the leash she knew for the dangerous animal that no leash known to man could control.
The thrill of it sent a shiver down my spine, and my entire body trembled.
Before heading to Pienza, I stopped off in Siena to speak to a man who was connected to the Fausti family by marriage. His sister was the famed Italian movie star, Grazia Angeli, and she had been married to Marzio, my husband’s grandfather and Luca’s father. Grazia’s brother had numerous properties, and since the one in Siena did not mean a great deal to him, he wanted to sell it. He was the only son born among seven girls. The girls were all older, and the place meant a great deal more to them.
I believed I had the perfect buyer, though. I explained to Grazia’s brother who was interested, Grazia’s grandson and his wife, the famed ballerina, Scarlett Rose Poésy, though she had decided on the American custom of taking her husband’s last name. She was going professionally as Scarlett Fausti after her wedding to thebella bestiain December.
Was that another clue that she wanted Brando to claim his family and for them to claim him, or was she just following the tradition of her home country?
I was not sure, and I did not enjoy the uncertainty of it. If Brando was going to challenge my husband, he had to be prepared. But I was not sure how to go about this, except to bring them closer to us so we could get in with them before they showed up on their own terms.
Curse the son of the whore—Olivier Nemours—for bringing them into our lives!
I did not know how, or when, but my instincts were screaming at me that everything was about to change.
Grazia’s brother was all too happy to hand the keys over to me, telling me he would be honored to sell to Grazia’s blood. Marzio had thought no one in the family wanted it.
The spinning toy would.
For more than one reason.
She was romantic, and what was more romantic than buying the childhood home of your husband’s grandmother? Also, it had aspectacular night show that she was going to drown in, not able to see anything else until she held the keys to the otherworld in her hand. I might have been a self-absorbed bitch when it came to half of my life, but when it came to the other half—being a central player in the Fausti family—I took notice of everything, even minuscule things that might not matter later.
The way she was gazing up at the stars the night of Olivier’s party told me a great deal about the spinning toy.
She was the romance in Brando’s veins that awoke the ruthless side of him.
Good for her, but if she unbalanced him, the family would be sure to put him in his place. As they should! Love only goes so far. Sex only goes so far. What lasted forever? Their power!
Oh well, at that moment, it was not my issue. My issue was getting in her good graces, especially after the look she gave me the night of Olivier’s party. I had to figure out what was going on. Also, lead her and her husband to my husband on my terms.
We might have to kill them, depending on what their arrival meant in our lives.
My husband’s name seemed to explode inside of my mind.
Rocco.
How was he going to feel knowing he was no longer the oldest and heir to the Fausti throne?
I punched the horn of my red Ferrari as I sped toward Pienza. Of course, the sappy ballerina would go there! It had four streets which were considered romantic and named appropriately.Via del Bacio.Via dell’Amore. Via della Fortuna. Via del Buia.One of Grazia’s most famous films was filmed there by one of Italy’s most famed directors. The sappy ballerina was falling in love with her husband’s home, attempting to assimilate—for her husband, for the both of them, or for the family? I hit the gas harder, arriving in time to watch her from afar before I made myself a part of her life.
One thing about the ballerina—her green eyes, they saw too much, understood too much, and I knew that, if I was going to do this, I would do it with my trademark honesty that made peopleeither love or hate me. I would never be a part of the furniture or cause indifference in a person. That was not who I was, and I chose to be honest about it to the world and to myself. I did not live off likes and dislikes, and I highly suggested against it.
I had always considered myself a piece of art. Some might find me perfect for their homes, setting me over a plinth, frescoes of angels surrounding me, while others would find me too much for their simple tastes.
But they would find me.
