Donato stopped me as I came down the steps. “Her husband,” he said. “He did not ride with her, but he is on the property. He is driving a Ducati.”
“Allow this to play out,” I said in Italian. “Do not intervene. I will handle the situation.”
He allowed me to glimpse the uncertainty in his eyes, but he knew better than to challenge me.
My wife was nowhere to be seen, but she was not far, watching the drama, perhaps singing an impassioned aria as it unfolded.
I opened the door slightly, watching from my spot as Scarlett climbed the steps. It was as if she was willing herself to keep going, keep climbing, and it took all her strength to do so. She almostseemed dizzy, especially after her husband started to climb them behind her. It was as if she felt him in her bloodstream, and it was making her too warm for her own body.
The husband met her on the final step. “So this is it,” he said, removing a folded photograph from his back pocket. “This is where you go to fuck him.”
My body stiffened at the disrespect. His woman had been nothing but respectful to him. She was a woman, nothing less. A familiar stiffness started to harden my shell, my soul, while the blood in my veins turned to lava. I would kill this man for much less than what he had just said.
However, I was not done watching their interaction. This was not a usual situation. And my father had his hand in it.
Scarlett’s mouth opened, as if she were searching for the right air in a world where he would speak to her in such a way. He sneered in response. He held out the photograph, and she took it, her eyes hungry to see what evidence he had presented her with. I already knew. It was the picture I had sent to my father of the two of us.
Her eyes flashed to her husband’s, and they seemed to share an unspoken language. He answered the look.
“Luca Fausti,” he said. “He had a fine time with that one.”
This was my cue to step outside, allowing the door to give me away, though I had a feeling the man had already sensed me close. He was of Fausti blood—that I was sure of. He had all the right features, down to his build. And for his woman, he had planned tokillme.
“Bella,” I breathed, fully taking her in. Not for his benefit, but for hers. He could do with it as he pleased. The look on her face stopped me from moving closer. It was as if I had spoken to her as her husband had. “Are you all right,bella?”
She shoved the picture at me, and it was as if she shoved me and moved me. I took a step back.
“Why?” she shouted. “Why would you send this to that…bastard!”
I took the picture from her. “Bella,” I said and went to touch her.
“Don’t call me that! Don’t touch me!” She put her hands up in a defensive posture. “Why? Tell me why!”
“I have to,” I whispered, hating that this woman was hurting because of something my family seemingly did. “You are from where he is. The situation is too much of a coincidence not to be one. You claim my last name.”
“You lied to me, Rocco.”
She allowed me to place a hand on her shoulder, and with all the truth I was capable of, I vowed to her, “I never lie. My word is as good as my blood, Scarlett.”
It was as if touching her had brought her to another world, and the thoughts behind her eyes were moving as fast as dominos falling until she got to the reason her world was collapsing around her.
“No, no, no, Brando!”
As quickly as her feet could move on the dance floor, but even faster, she flung herself at Brando’s—her husband’s—chest. She took his shirt in her hands, her knuckles turning white from the strain, as if she was strong enough to stop him from coming after me.
I dared him to.
“Listen to me.” She shook him, as if she were trying to shake a mountain. “You have to listen to me,mio marito. I went back to Pienza, remember? After we went? I was so lonely without you. I didn’t want to tell you because I wanted a whole man! When we returned to Italy from Natchitoches, the loneliness I felt for you seemed to close in on me, more than before. And I felt comfortable there, in Pienza. I kept dreaming of it, so I went back. Do you remember the man that gave us the package, at the deli? He thought you were someone else, but he called your name. He gave me another package because he remembered me. Afterward, I went to a pottery store and almost bought them out. I needed something—I needed to do something for you. It’s all I couldthink about. I hated that you came home to an apartment. That you traveled all those miles and all I could offer you was…a temporary place.
“Then Rosaria Caffi found me in the street, and she took me for a ride in her Ferrari. She told me that I was too thin, that you were making me that way with too much sex. I told her that if she was married to you, she wouldn’t mind either, but then she said she had a beast of her own, but he fed her pasta to make up for it.”
My eyes rose to find my wife standing at the window. When our eyes connected, she wiggled her fingers at me. My eyes flew back down to the situation in front of me.
“One thing led to another, and she took me to the villa.” She swallowed so hard I heard it. “I fell in love with the idea of it. Everywhere I turned I could imagine us…there. Oh God. I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted you to come home to a place you could be proud of, until it was time to really go home. I wanted to cook for you. To give you a place you could enjoy with me. When we had to go to Vultera, it wouldn’t be much of a drive. We wouldn’t have to fly. That’s all you do! I wanted you to break the surface…with me. And when the time comes that we can finally go home, we’ll have the new place for summers. Nothing more. That’s when Rocco?—"
When Scarlett said my name, this Brando visibly steeled himself, as if he could not bear to hear any name come out of this woman’s mouth other than his. How romantic he was. How ruthless. A feeling stirred in my gut at the sight of the two of them. It was racing toward my heart.
“—found me. Rosaria told him where to find me. She knew…she knows something. We had dinner, that’s all. Just dinner. It wasn’t romantic.” She took a breath. “Oh, just look at him!”
