And what I wasn’t saying:fuck drinking and cigars. I’d be at the bar that was reserved for the girlie party, even if I kept to the shadows. There was too much interest in the Watt land, and something my wife and her cousin was keeping from me and my cousin. I didn’t trust anyone to keep my wife safe but me. She was mine. I might not deserve her, but fuck if anyone else could love—for lack of a better word—her more than me.
“Mariano?”
“Who?”
She laughed quietly and made an owl sound. Hoo hoo-hoo. “Marito mio.”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
She laughed a little more and it made me grin. “I was just checking you were still on the line.”
“Always, Annie.”
She sighed. “I never imagined it could be this way, between anyone, betweenus, and I do not understand all of this yet, perhaps I never will, but…I miss you so much already I can barely breathe.”
I sighed. “Yeah, me too.” I would have gone to get her, as my heart, the wild fucking thing, was demanding I do, but she was safe with her family and my men. I had personal business to attend to.
“All right,” she whispered. “I should be getting back. Willa is doing a tutorial on how we will style our hairs for the wedding. I do not want my cousin to think I am ignoring her party.”
Hairs.That made me grin. She was so fucking cute, it broke my heart. I rubbed a hand over it and then shook my head.
“My Annie?”
“Yes?”
“Take care of my heart while we’re apart.”
She cleared her throat. “Always, as you say,” she whispered. She sighed and hung up.
When the line went dead, it felt like my air supply did the same.
Fuck me sideways.
Sighing, I stood, my eyes still on the footprints, but someone stood behind me. Someone stealthy enough to have snuck up on me if I hadn’t scented his cologne in the air.
I turned and faced my brother.
Marciano stood behind me with his arms crossed and his legs somewhat apart. He was dressed in all black. T-shirt, jeans, and leather boots. He had enough gold jewelry on—chain with the Fausti lion insignia, signet ring, and gold watch with diamonds—to call all the ferrets of the forest over, a band of shiny thieves, or to call the lightning to him if another storm hit.
My brother could ride a horse, but he was better in the ring or in the water. He’d inherited our old man’s lungs when it came to holding his breath. And he was the only son of Brando and Scarlett to ever throw a fucking fit when he was a kid.
It seemed like he was about to throw another one.
I braced myself.
He charged me like a bull. When he hit, our arms locked. My brother was a strong motherfucker, but when I braced myself for his hit, he couldn’t move me.
He was fucking furious, like I kicked his trained ferret, his gold in its tiny thieving paws and all.
We turned around in a circle, before we shoved away from each other, circling again, both of us looking for a way to land a punch. This wasn’t unusual in our family to fight out our aggression, but it wasn’t normal protocol to do it without sanction.
This brought me back years and years, when Nemours almost killed Mamma, and our old man was going to leave with her. After Mamma woke up, things took a while to get back to normal. Our parents were working something out in their own universe. Papà even left for Italy with Matteo for a short stint, to kill Nemours, and the rest of us went with Mamma to Austin, Texas. I was put in charge of her safety. I took it very fucking seriously. Still do when Mamma is with me. But during that southwestern trip was when Marciano threw his fucking tantrum.
No doubt, he was throwing one again.
Maybe something had happened with a woman. The House of Sicilia woman. Maybe she’d left him, or turned him down, and he was dealing with the emotional fallout from it.
He had wild aggression.
