She was a woman worth going to war over.
It was not safe to become presumptuous and foretell my grandfather’s thoughts and actions, but after he met Scarlett Rose Fausti, there was no doubt in my mind or heart that he would feelthe same. She was going to ensnare him with those feline eyes and the way she could move him with her dance. However, I did not know how he was going to feel about her dancing in the underground clubs Olivier controlled. Scarlett Rose Fausti was the wife of one of our own, even if he had not been raised in our ways, and she did not belong in such places. Olivier and family were attempting to control her.
If any of my uncles would have an opinion on this situation, it would beZioEttore. He, along with my other three uncles, Lothario, Osvaldo, and Niccolo, would be attending the meeting. Even thoughProzioTito was my grandfather’sconsigliere, his most trusted adviser, my gut told me Ettore had the most interest in this business. There was a lot of money tied up in Scarlett’s dance, and that changed the game, as far as my uncle’s involvement. Out of all my uncles, Ettore was the most business minded, and when it came to women and romance, he did not put much value in it. He was the male version of my wife.
There were times I would catch Nonno staring at Ettore during a family meeting, and it was not high regard that I saw but wariness. He felt what his second son was—ruthless above all else. My father was the rightful leader. He could see ourfamigliainto the future. Then he would pass the crown to me. The Faustifamigliahad managed to survive since the beginning of our time, and if the family fell into the wrong hands, perhaps it would shrivel from the roots upward.
Nazzareno and I straightened when Nonno approached. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his head. He nodded at us, slapping at both of our necks.
“We will eat first, grandsons,” he said. “Then Nazzareno will go, and Rocco and I will attend to business.”
I followed behind him, and Nazzareno followed behind me. As we made our way back to the villa, Nonno looked over his property, pointing at different spots and making verbal notes to pick the fruit that was overflowing on branches and prune his tomato plants. He did this to relax.
A kitten jumped out from the bushes at him. He laughed, making noises at the cat. “You are a fierce hunter, ah? Find the mice! Go on.” The kitten obeyed, running in the opposite direction, eyes lowered, searching for adventures in the wild.
Before we entered the villa, he stopped at the door, cleaning his boots on the mat. He turned his eyes toward the sun, and I could not help but to find myself in his eyes. The three of us, Nonno, Nazzareno, and I, shared similar colored irises. After he took in the sun, we walked behind him to the dining area. Agata brought out drinks for us, and as Nazzareno and I talked, Nonno went to wash.
After he returned, wearing a custom-made suit, we all sat and enjoyed lunch.
Nazzareno left, but all my uncles stayed for the meeting. In line of our births, we followed behind Nonno to his office, and then we all took seats around his desk. He had gone to his music player and turned on music that was reminiscent of Ancient Rome. It was not loud but present. Riding Guerriero always put him in a romantic mood, but it also seemed to make him sharper. As if he might have to draw his sword at any given moment and cut a man’s head off or slice his chest open to reveal the wasteful heart inside of it.
“Tell us, grandson,” my grandfather said in Italian, “not about your brother, but about what is going on with his wife and the deal with Olivier Nemours.”
I fixed my suit and leaned forward a little. “I have gone over the contract. It is made of iron. There is no fighting it, legally speaking.”
“Olivier Nemours is fighting to keep the dancer under lock,” Ettore said, taking my same stance.
I sat back out of respect. It was as if he held the floor.
“This tells us a great deal,” he continued. “She is worth a considerable amount to them.”
Ettore never hid his intentions in this room. He might have not said it, but what was implied gave me a cold feeling in the pitof my stomach. It felt as if a knife had been stabbed through it. He was not concerned with Scarlett’s well-being. His eyes were focused on the money side of it.
“I have heard about Olivier Nemours and his dancers. The family is pleased with what he brings in with these women.”
“Women,” my grandfather said. “He does not believe they are women.”
“No,” Ettore answered. “He sells the image that they are not from this world.”
My grandfather looked at me, and my uncle sat back.
“Tell me, grandson,” my grandfather said. “Is your brother’s wife not of this world.”
I took a moment to answer. It was wise to use words carefully around my grandfather and my uncles. “She is, of course, a woman made of flesh, blood, and bone, but there is something about her that is not of this world. She is worth living for. She is worth dying for. She can move men such as us with the look in her eyes and with the dance in her blood.”
“She is Maja’s granddaughter,” my grandfather said, not asking but stating fact. The look in his eyes was faraway, as if he was remembering a time gone.
It seemed as if, once upon a time, he knew the legendary ballerina. Of course he did. Marzio and Maja existed at the same time and in the same space. At the height of Maja’s career, perhaps my grandfather was the newest king of the Fausti family.
My grandfather thought about the conversation for a few minutes, then it was decided that my family wanted a meeting with my new brother. Our women were requested to join us, and if the request was denied, it was implied that we would no longer have them at our sides. It was Ettore who would give me the time and date. Romeo would deliver the invitation. My new brother was not going to appreciate this, especially the island in which we were to meet the family, but my grandfather’s word was law.
With the meeting over, we all stood after my grandfather, but he looked me in the eye and said, “We will walk.”
Ettore looked between us but said nothing.
I fixed my suit as I followed behind my grandfather and uncles. Three of my uncles left. Ettore did not. He watched from a window, drink in hand, as my grandfather and I started to roam the property.
Ettore was going to be a problem. Not only were dollar signs blinding him when it came my brother’s wife, but Brando Fausti could challenge him for the position of king if he chose to. Ettore was next in line to rule, then me. My uncle trusted that I would follow the hierarchy. Allow him to rule until he could no longer. Brando Faustihad stormed our gates, not unlocking them with the key he held all along, but with force. Even though my grandfather did not speak to me about my brother, he had spoken to my uncles about him. I could tell by Ettore’s eagerness in the meeting. Perhaps he had planned to start a war with Brandoso he could kill him. Or attempt to.
