“Shh.” I pulled her in, kissing her face over and over. I couldn’t control her tears, and they were breaking my fucking heart. I would take care of my wife, and after, it was time to fucking hunt. I had never felt that before her. A protectiveness so strong, the entire world wasn’t safe unless she was.
“Mariano.” She took a steadying breath, gazing into my eyes. “You are trying to make this better for me, but…your eyes. Your eyes are scaring me.”
“You never have to be afraid of me. I would kill myself before I ever hurt you.”
“I know,” she whispered, looking away from me. “However, that does not mean…what I am trying to say is that I do not want your soul marked by their blood. This is something that never goes away. Perhaps…perhaps Atta will go to the police. Let them rot in jail.”
“No deal, Annie,” I whispered.
She sat up, her face so close to mine, I could still smell the whiskey and maple syrup on her breath. “They are not worth it,” she said, her voice stronger.
I gently touched the spot where he had hit her, feeling the slight scar underneath her skin. I kissed it. I kissed it and realized it was a burial ground for what had happened that night. She knew it was there but tried to forget about it. I said nothing as I opened the door to the SUV and carried us both out of it.
“Let me go!” she demanded. “We need to talk about this!”
“Never will I let you go.”
“I am not telling you to let me go forever, but for right now.” She wiggled until I set her down.
We faced off on the front lawn.
“Do not do this, Mariano.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m your husband.” I hit the spot over my heart. “It’s my job to fucking protect you.”
“You can’t protect me from it now. It happened before I met you!”
You can’t protect me from it now. It happened before I met you!
Words that were made of poisonous tipped thorns swirling around in my heart, sticking inside of my mind. Those words would haunt me for the rest of my life. She was right. I couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it, but fuck if I wouldn’t destroy the fuckers who did it. I would kill them. Steal the memory. Kill that too.
“Acts of dishonor don’t have a fucking statute of limitations.” I lifted her chin, and her red-rimmed eyes met mine. “Especially when they were done againstmine.” Before she could protest, I lifted her off her feet and carried her up the stairs and into the main house.
All the lights were on, and the smell of coffee and baked goods was strong in the air. Nonno and Magpie, Papà and Mamma,Padrino,ZioDario andZiaCarmen,ZioRomeo andZiaJuliette sat at the large breakfast table, drinking coffee with Hannah and Bianca.
Sistine stilled in my arms, and her eyes turned down when Nonno looked us over from our heads down to our boots. I easily set Sistine on her feet, but I didn’t allow her much room. She would be by my side for the rest of my life. Fuck who liked it or not.
Nonno nodded at me, approving of the gesture. He was a romantic man who enjoyed fate’s plays on epic love stories. Our situation in Italy would speak to him. Already was, or I would have already been punished for breaking laws. In my family, a man had to know how to maneuver in and out of the lines set before him. Brando Fausti was the king of this. He set his own terms and ruled his own life.
He taught his daughter and sons that as well. It was up to us to take what he’d taught us and apply it to our own lives. Matteo, at times, would do this, but I was known more for coloring outside of the lines, so to speak. Then again, I hadn’t accepted the position to rule the family as Matteo had. I was onlythe spare. The spare who never truly gave a second thought to running the family.
Sistine seemed to move closer to me, almost trying to hide her left hand, when Mamma and Papà seemed to clock her wedding bands in at the same time. Neither of them said anything. Even if Papà hadn’t sensed the same as mamma, which he had, they were both connected to each other, Mamma would know I didn’t tell them for a reason. She would tell Papà.
All the men in my family stood. Not for me. For Sistine. I greeted my family, then introduced Sistine, formally. I didn’t call her my wife, but my family seemed to know. Nonno stared at me, then nodded again, a serious look on his face. I had made the call. If there was hell to pay for what I’d done, marry the woman who owned my heart, I’d fucking pay it. There was no price high enough for the honor to call her my wife. She was my air, and there was no life without her in it.
Magpie was the first to jump up and take Sistine in her arms. She hugged her tightly, rocking them both, and then put space between them so she could look Sistine in the eyes, taking her hands in hers. “You are gorgeous! A true Italian beauty. Sistine…Superb. No. That doesn’t seem to fit. We have a Stella Stellar. All these names starting with S!” She gazed at Sistine, and I could tell Sistine wanted to look at me but maybe thought it would be disrespectful to break eye contact. “To hell with S words, let’s go with Sistine…Ravishing!”
“Sistine Ravishing. I love it.” Sistine smiled at her.
Magpie turned to Nonno and smiled at him. His eyes softened and he nodded at her in a way that was reserved for her. It was a smile that clearly stated,whatever makes you happy, my wildflower, shall be,or the rest of the world would have hell to pay. Nothing made Luca Leone Fausti happy unless it made his wife happy.
That seemed true for all of Luca Fausti’s direct descendants.
Magpie turned back to Sistine, their hands still locked. “Oooh, knock me to my knees! That smile you have. And those eyes!” My grandmother looked at me. “No wonder you were a goner, my handsome grandson, Mariano. No longer our Casanova Prince. He’s found his ravishing Italianaprincess. Sistine is why you’ve been walking a straight line. Well, as straight as a Fausti can get it, due to the nature of things.”
I greeted my grandmother with a kiss on her cheek, and she beamed at me, but her eyes grew dim when she noticed the look on my face. She probably recognized what was going on inside of me. A raging fucking war.
Marciano came in behind me. In front of our grandfather, his entire demeanor changed. He was all business, just as the rest of us were. He greeted my grandmother the same way I did, and after she kissed his cheek, she wiped the lipstick stain from his skin. We both greeted our mamma, our aunts, Hannah and Bianca, then we shook our grandfather’s hand, followed by our father, then our uncles.
