Those words hung between us until the gondola rose with a wave sent from a bigger vessel in the canal, and once we dipped and steadied, my eyes truly focused on the older version of myself.
He was staring at me—unblinking. He was looking at me, but I wasn’t sure if he was seeing me in this moment. I always got the feeling that if I was speaking to an older version of myself, he was judging a younger version of himself.
He didn’t like what he saw. Because the younger version of himself without a love like the one he shared with mamma didn’t make sense to him. Brando Fausti had been with Scarlett Fausti for so long, his life couldn’t make sense without her. She had become something vital to him—her soul and his were intertwined.
I had never had a love before. That was the version of himself he saw in me, and that made no sense to him. A life without my mamma looked very different through his eyes, and he could barely stand it. He had once told me that even the thought of not knowing her, but knowing she had existed and was his, would have driven him insane if he couldn’t find her.
He finally nodded to me and held out his hand. I took it, though I didn’t need to help him to his feet. Brando Fausti was in better shape than most twenty-somethings.
Nah, he didn’t give me his hand to help him; he gave me his hand to communicate that if Sistine was it for me, he’d do all he could to support me—he’d join whatever wars came at me.
As we got to the door of the palazzo, he squeezed my shoulder, then went to find the part of himself he could never live without.
ZioRomeo pressed the buzzer to the jewelry store. I’d planned on making a solo trip, but he insisted. He’d ordered jewelry forZiaJuliette, and he wanted out of the palazzofor a while.
Picking up his order was the reason for the out.
Romeo was in a foul fucking mood. He’d found a silver hair, and he wasn’t dealing with it well. I kept catching him staring at my hair and sighing.
It would have been fucking hilarious if it wasn’t so serious to him. Everyone always claimed his ego lived in his scalp, which producedthe hair,and if I wanted to keep mine intact, laughing would be the last thing I did. Out of all my father’s brothers, Romeo was the most amicable, but cross a line, and he’d turn quicker than a domesticated lion.
I had something to ask him. A question that might put his woes to rest, but it wasn’t the time.
The door buzzed, and I entered after my uncle. He removed his black leather gloves and stuck them in the pocket of his long, custom-made black overcoat, one almost identical to mine, before he told the clerk he was picking up his order.
Our orders were usually delivered by men who could shoot a bottle off someone’s head, so the clerk raised his eyebrows at the news, but he seemed smart. He kept his mouth shut and said he would let Adone know we’d arrived and would get the order ready.
Even thoughZioRomeo’s business was in my ear, my eyes were searching for that Renaissance woman in the painting, the mosaic light over her desk clinging to her skin.
A sigh left my lips in a fucking dramatic fashion when all I could find was mist where she should’ve been standing. It seemed like the fog from outside had crept in with me and was filling all the empty spaces with smoky air. It made my heart do this weird fucking flip in my chest. It felt a lot like unease.
After what I’d seen this morning, the way Capri was looking at Sistine, like she dared her to meet her eyes, it made me more aware of a situation that might not be good for Sistine.
In fact, those two reminded me of mamma and her sister, Charlotte. Theirs wasn’t even a decent relationship.
Adone came in from the back, Capri on his heels. Adone greeted us before he started conversing withZioRomeo about his order. My eyes were still on the mosaic colors falling over Sistine’s desk. Capri’s eyes were on me. I could feel how hard she was staring. She was willing me to meet her eyes.
She’d stare until her eyes froze and I was gone from this spot. It wasn’t her I came to see.
An imprisoned breath released from my lungs, leaving my mouth in a slow flow, and a grin I couldn’t control came to my face. Sistine had appeared from the back, but before she made it to her desk, she’d stopped and started sniffing the air like she scented me in it.
The smallish waiting room in the front of the shop was overwhelmed with the scent of manly colognes and Zio Romeo’s hair gel. The heater felt like it was on high, and it was probably circulating the scents to the back.
Her face overwent two spectacular changes.
First.
Her brows lifted for a second before she ran a hand down the dress she wore. It was different from what she’d had on theday before. It fell right below her thighs and was black with a three-dimensional flower print. It was form-fitting. She wore black tights with it and a pair of cowgirl boots. Her hair was the same as it usually was, though. Pulled back with a few different lengths of tendrils falling around her face.
That morning it had been pulled back too, but even so, I could tell she had a lot of hair. It would probably fall well past her waist, with a slight wave. And even though our male scents were consuming the front of the store, I could smell her dancing through it.
Subtle apple the most prominent scent.
Then…
She seemed to check her appearance, and then she reverted to the pinched look she wore the day before, like I was a problem she was going to have to deal with. She even sighed and rolled her eyes.
I smiled.
