“I do not think so,” he said, but he left it alone, his eyes going back to the dancers. He rolled his shoulders. “Let us dance.”
“Ah,” I breathed, buying time. I did not think this was such a good idea. “My time is up. I would rather go back to my room.”I looked at the dancers again. “Do you think he went to Matteo and Stella’s wedding in Paris?” I had been thinking of it all night. Matteo and Stella were having a wedding in Paris on New Year’s Eve, and I accepted that Mariano would go. He was not as sequestered as I was.
I was, basically, a prisoner inside of these walls.
“Sistine,” Remo called.
I turned to face him.
He rolled his shoulders again. “No, I do not think so.”
“His brother’s wedding…”
“This is a second wedding.” He cleared his throat. “I would not leave you to travel that far. It is what I would do.” He said the words, then stood, fixing his tux, before he helped me to my feet, about to walk me back to my room.
My father called me for one last photo opportunity. I gave Remo an apologetic smile and told him to wait for me by the table. There was no use in him standing around, doing nothing, while I had to smile stupidly for the camera. He did not go back to the table, keeping his feet planted where he was, grabbing for another drink.
The photographer gave me direction on where to stand, and as the camera started to click, I noticed Capri standing close to Remo. She nudged him in the ribs. He did not give her a reaction, which I could see was setting her off. She was getting that mean look on her face, as if she was about to strike. I did not even bid goodbye to whoever my father had introduced me to, people who would be in the picture. I rushed toward the scene, then stopped in my tracks.
Remo started to dance with my sister.
This was his choice.
It just did not sit right with me that my sister would engage with any member of the family I was married into. I did not want to see her on the street, much less at family functions. Iwondered if Luca could make this a rule? I grinned, but the grin fell when a hand wrapped around my arm.
Clint Herndon, the man who had bid for my jewelry in Wyoming.
I sucked in a quiet breath when my eyes rose to meet his and only found one. He wore a patch over one. The one he had used to wink at me.
“Sistine,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
My father came to stand between us, smiling, almost rocking on his feet.
“I am positive you met Signor Herndon,” he said, making Clint’s last name into two syllables.
“Met him, yes.” I narrowed my eyes. “We have no business.” I remembered when my father called and said something about a man with an eye patch. Clint must have told him Mariano was in Wyoming.
“I believe we do,” Clint said, the pressure on my arm increasing.
My eyes slowly moved down to his grip. “You have already lost an eye,” I said, moving my eyes back up to his just as slowly. “I would be careful with that hand, if you value it.”
He smiled at me but released his grip. “I know your husband isn’t here. Your father told me what was going on.”
My father.
He opened and closed his hands. “I was wondering if you would, perhaps, be interested in a business deal withSignorHerndon.”
I laughed, and the sound of it crackled with heat. “Father,” I said in Italian, “I know what this business deal would entail. I would marry this buffoon, in return for some kind of riches. However, you should not need the reminder, but here we are. Iamalready married, and it was not you who made the arrangement.
“You do not have this power over me anymore. If you want to sellone of the Capella womento this jackass, try the single one. They would make a beautiful match!” I nodded to Clint, who had no idea what I had just said. “Have a good night, since this time, you will keep your hand. It will come in handy when you are saying goodbye to Venice and all the opportunities you would have found here.”
Clinthad the nerve to whistle at me as I left. I heard him tell my father I was spicy, and that was the kind of food he preferred.
Food!
The only food I wished to be was the type my husband desired and devoured.
My feet stilled on the steps, and I took deep breaths to control the racing of my heart. A sob was stuck in my throat. I was not sure why, but it was. I took another deep breath, then forced myself up the stairs, shutting and locking my door after I was in the room I had occupied when I lived in this palazzo.
