I could not put off any longer what I had been avoiding. Being honest with my husband about what Iggy had done. The conversation Iggy and I had before the banquet. All the things the Russian killer admitted to me that night.
Again, Iggy seemed capable of evolving into a hard to kill specimen of a man. I wanted Mariano to be prepared for what was to come.
Not even an island was safe enough to tell him.
The plane was better to keep him locked in, I had convinced myself.
I could not tell him during takeoff.
I could not summon the courage to tell him while he read through a finance magazine or while he worked on his computer—something to do with his work. He, Matteo, and Marciano all shared an investment company. Mariano had told me Brando Fausti’s sons had all inherited their father’s luck when it came to money.
Even Captain, who was Merlin’s uncle, had become an extremely wealthy man because of Brando Fausti and his luck. Brando Fausti, along with Rocco Fausti, perhaps even the other two brothers, Dario and Romeo, had invested in Captain’s treasure-hunting expedition, and the chance had paid off. They found gold and a lot more.
It seemed whatever these men touched either turned women into moldable candle wax (theromance), or their touches came as sharp as a sword (theruthless), or…the luck in their hands turned everything into gold.
Mariano’s eyes blinked.
I blinked at him.
I had never seen him do that before.
It was almost a yawn with his eyes…
It seemed as if he could relax on the plane. I was trapped thousands of miles in the air with him. No one could come at me, meaninghim, from any side, unless they crashed into our plane, which meant we left this world together.
He shook his head. He took drinks of his whiskey, the computer screen lighting his face, while I assumed he went over numbers.
Mariano was also one of the best footballers in history. He had one of the most recognizable faces. This was profitable forhim. He took the money he made and invested it, which turned out to be extremely lucrative.
“They can touch shit and turn it into gold,” Atta had said to me after she realized how all Fausti men had the magic touch. “The women they marry seem to all be talented too. This seems to be the recipe to keep a family as powerful as they are turning.”
“You can sing,” I had said. “You are close to being a world-famous singer.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Sis. You’re one of the most well-known designers and jewelers on earth. People from all over the planet seek you out. You’re one of the most talented artists in the world, your medium jewelry.Claims.Thesymbolic.Your forte. You’ll go down in history as one too—a master. Or should I say mistress? Does that fit?”
I thought about Scarlett Fausti and how talented she was.
Atta was right.
The Fausti men seemed to marry women who pursued their talents and excelled at them.
“You’re above me in all things,” my husband had once told me. “We walk into a room, and every male’s thinking the same fucking thing—why the fuck is she with him. Then they’re wondering if they should challenge me or not for your hand. Sizing me the fuck up. Let them all.” He held out his hand, as if he was inviting them. “They can form a line. I’ll put each one of the fuckers down in the dirt.”
I had smiled at this, refusing to laugh at the absurdity of it. One look at him, and they knew why I was next to him. He had it all and then some. Theallwas his heart and how he loved me. Thethen somewas his looks.
Mariano Leone Fausti stood out amongst Fausti men.
I watched them walk into the jewelry store, day in, day out, and watched them all walk out, and over the years, I began to clump them all together. Although personalities differed, I couldspot a Fausti a mile away from looks alone, even without the tattoo that marked them.
My husband was the moon in a sky of stars.
He was just like his Friesian horse. Gorgeous—way past what the laws of nature should allow.
However, I could not point this out. My husband would have taken offense if he thought I was making light of…me.
I rose from my seat, poured him another glass of whiskey, and set it next to him, kissing him on top of the head. Even in the contained space, his eyes had been on me. They still were.
“I am going to the bed,” I said.
