I could not live without her.
I took a deep breath when I entered our home. It was already hers.Ours.Dandolo got to his feet, about to extend his hand to me.
“My wife,” I said.
Dandolo held up his hands. “Did one of your men get sick? The one you traded for the position, ah, Oscar, I believe is his name is?”
“Remo.” Mamma wrung a dish towel out in her hand. I didn’t fucking like that either. She was nervous. On edge. Maybe feeling something that might impact the rest of my life. “The food poisoning.”
My hand was around Dandolo’s throat before I gave it the conscious demand to do so. The lion in my heart had turned me into an animal. An animal that could scent the blood pumping through his heart. I longed to feel the fast race of it cease. To feel him bleed out on my hands.
He was all about fate and following it.
He was close to meeting his.
“My wife,” I said in Italian this time, “SignorDandolo.”
He touched my hand frantically, not even slapping at it, before I set him down on his feet. He clutched his throat, trying to catch his breath, before Sistine’s father helped him to the seat that Mamma must’ve offered them. Dandolo attempted to talk but had to drink first. Mamma handed him a glass of water. He took it with thanks. His voice was still rough when he spoke.
“Signor Fausti, your wife is in the hospital but getting better.”
“Getting better,” I repeated.
My old man didn’t touch me, neither did my brother, but I felt their presences around me.
“Why didn’t anyone call us?” mamma said.
My eyes turned on her. She could have felt this. She shook her head at me. She hadn’t. Then my father stepped in frontof her, blocking her from my view. I turned my eyes back to Dandolo and Sistine’s father.
“We were all sick,” Flavio said, his tone defensive. “We all had food poisoning. This is why SignorDandolo asked you this about your man.”
Dandolo cleared his throat. “I did not mean to cause you distress, Signor Fausti. Sistine is still sick, but she is improving with fluids.”
All I could do was stand there. If I moved, I was going to kill one of these men.All of these men.The only clear thoughts I had were getting to my wife and not harming my blood. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of the distinction.
Dandolo braved my silence by going on. He said Sistine had asked Oscar to call him. She was taken to the hospital, where she was still getting fluids and recouping. There was more.
“Sistine is pregnant,” Flavio said. “This is why she is still sick. The doctor believes it is a severe case of morning sickness. Perhaps brought on by the food poisoning. She should be better by the time of the maze, however?—”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish. His skin was puce, and he still looked like he was recovering, and it wasn’t much of a challenge, but I was going to drain the life out of him if my demands were not met.
“SignorFausti,” Dandolo pleaded with me, “please, unhand him!”
“This is how this is going to go. Fate rarely walks in a straight line. Twists. Turns. It happens every day. It has been happening for centuries. My wife being pregnant changes things.” I increased the pressure, and Flavio started to wheeze, drooling on my hand. “If my wife insists on this, fucking fine, but she’s sequestered in our home. Here. Dandolo, you will stay here, in the comfort of our home. I’ll stay in one of the groom’s properties.”
“Whatever you wish!” He lifted his trembling hands.
“Whatever my wife wishes,” I said.
“Yes!”
“Bene,” I said, squeezing just a little tighter, “I’m glad we can see eye to eye on this.”
I let go of Sistine’s father abruptly, and he fell to the floor. I stepped over him as if he was worth nothing, the best part of him mine, going for the door.
“Signor Fausti!” Dandolo called after me. “I did not tell you which hospital.” He told me where she was. She was moved to Tuscany after she was stabilized in Venice. Dandolo thought I would want her close.
“It’s fucking unnecessary to tell me,” I said. “I know where my wife is at all times, without anyone telling me.” I touched my heart. “Fate, ah?”
