“I am now,” I breathed out.
“Yeah.” His voice was rough. He cleared it. “Me fucking too.” He told me he’d see me in a short time and then hung up.
Atta’s call lasted about the same time. We were both breathing easier, but we understood something felt off about the entire situation. I could tell by the way she refused to let my hand go and would squeeze every so often. Although Mariano was relieved to hear my voice, there was something equally scalding and chilling about his voice. It was hard to explain what it did to me emotionally, but physically, I shivered from it.
“All right, you Gloomy Gusses—no more frowning! Let’s get this part-aystarted! Whoooo!” Willa howled out the window, and Remo rolled it up on her and then locked it.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I beg your pardon.”
“You are scaring the animals,” he said.
Willaharrumphedat him, then started to sing along to the music until we pulled up to the dance hall she had reserved. Three more Fausti cars were keeping close behind us, toting around all of Atta’s friends from Nashville. My cousin had moved there after her record deal, although she told me her apartment was far from what she imagined as a signed artist. Atta was paying her own rent, and after the debt of the ranch, she could not afford much. Although Willa was loud, and I sometimes found her obnoxious, she was good to my cousin. Therefore, I tolerated her.
The dance hall was packed. Atta and I looked at each other before we turned toward Willa, who was trying to open her own door.
“Still,” Remo said to her in sharp Italian.
She looked at him and tilted her head. “English would be great,Remo, thanks.”
“He said for you to still yourself.” I translated.
“Well, that is kind of sexy.” She smiled at me. She had lipstick stains on her teeth.
I motioned for her, in the most subtle way, to wipe them.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is your cousin still speaking in Italian, Atta Girl? I know hand gestures are big in Italy.”
Atta narrowed her eyes at Willa.
Remo pressed his earbud, and in less than a minute, another Fausti solider took his place in the driver’s seat. Remo fixed his suit as he headed toward the dance hall. The building resembled an old barn, big golden lights glittering on the side spelling: Gold Rush.
The two soldiers sitting behind us both shifted some. Willa refused to sit in the back with us, stating that she was claustrophobic, and Remo allowed her to have the shotgun seat.
Before Atta could say anything to Willa, Willa sighed and turned toward Atta. She lifted her hand in surrender before she gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Sistine, I didn’t mean to be such a bitch. But can’t you see how this entire night is not fair to Atta? She’s supposed to be having fun, letting loose.” She shook her boobs again. “Instead, she’s like a prisoner. So many rules.” She turned to Atta. “It’s true. You know it.”
Atta leaned forward and grabbed Willa’s hand, squeezing once before she let go. “I know you’re trying to make this the best night for me, but my life is not the same as it was before. My husband’s family is…different.”
“Boy, if that’s not the truth.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “At least the men arefine, fine, fine. What’s the cousin’s name? Mari—or Marci—ends inano? EvenRemo.”
“Marciano,” I said, purposely giving her the wrong name. I saw the way she was checking out my husband when he had dropped me off at the main house, and although it was not the time to say this, I was itching to announce that he was my husband.
However, there were too many Fausti-connected ears in the car. I growled low in my throat, copying the way Mariano did it. I crossed my arms over my chest.
Atta smiled at Willa, but I could tell it was for show. “Starting now, we’ll have fun. What about all these people, though? Didn’t you reserve the place?”
“I did, so I’m not sure.”
“By the way,” I said, making the same motion I had before. “You have lipstick on your teeth.”
“I said I was sorry!” She must have caught my tone and thought I was mad about the Italian hand comment.
I was still irritated about my marriage being kept a secret.
Willa turned toward the mirror, and the entire interior lit up with the vanity light while she scrubbed the red off her pearly whites.
Remo, looking as serious as if this entire situation was a heart attack he needed to fix, stepped outside of the dance hall, every eye swinging in his direction. Women looked in appreciation. Men in wariness. The men of the Fausti family always seemed to pull these reactions out of people. Remo was on the phone, his eyes flicking to the car every so often.
“Whatisthe problem?” Willa huffed, going for the door. She was able to open it, and Remo’s eyes shot up when she did. She put both feet on the ground and made it to him.
