The windows were rolled down, and I kept a hand on my hat, until I pushed it down far enough so it would be snug enough not to fly out. I turned to face him and cleared my throat. “You were right.”
I expected him to make some quip. Some sarcastic remark, such as,I usually am, but to his credit, he lifted his hand from the wheel in a gesture that meant—I’m listening.
I cleared my throat again. “I do need this from you. I still have my…doubts.”
“Talk to me,” he said.
“All right.” I breathed out. “Casanova, as we know, is you. You earned that name. I am just…one woman,” I whispered the last two words.
It was as if I had spoken to him and the words did not register, and when they did, he looked at me twice, as if he could not believe I would say such a thing to him.
“Just one woman,” he repeated.
“Sì.” I lifted my pointer finger. “Uno.”
He took my hand and pointed it toward my heart. “Theonlywoman, theone, forme.Thewoman who beat me at my own game. One fucking look. That’s all it took. You roped me in, and I’m not even fighting it. Not even a fucking little. You’re where I’ll be for the rest of my life.”
I studied his face until he glanced at me again.
Our eyes held for a brief second before he turned back to the two-lane road. I leaned forward and turned the radio on to break up some of the tension. When he spoke to me that way, it was as if he was carving the words into stone. A stone that generations would read even after we were long gone. This was how impassioned and serious he was.
I hummed the song at first, then started to sing along to it. My voice was not the best, not like Mariano or Atta, but I loved to sing. To get lost in the music. When I designed and crafted, I could not work without music in my ears. It shut the world out in the same way Mariano could.
The realization of that made me lower my voice and stare out the window. I never thought anything else would ever have the power to shut out the world for me. Reading could not even.
Mariano and music, followed by designing and bringing to life.
This was it.
I always thought love, or at the least respect, would be a gradual thing for me. Perhaps because I always assumed my marriage would be arranged. My family had similar practices to the Faustis. Two individuals from two powerful families coming together to forge two long lineages into one. It made sense to bring them together on paper.
It had never made much sense to me.
What did it matter who I married? As long as I kept serving the Fausti family to the best of my ability.
My grandfather and father had a difference of opinion.
If I looked at my family from an aerial view, it seemed as if they were only adhering to the rules set by generations before. However, my opinion differed once I was placed in the forest below. I could see the trees for what they were. A lineage that did not want to mess with their bread and butter. If something happened between Mariano and I, something that went wild and not in the good way, it could jeopardize the bond between families.
In the eyes of my grandfather and father, I was a high-risk case. I had a temper. My sister did as well, but only if she did not get her way with certain things—a husband who was rich, and the things that sort of life could afford her. She would not care if a man had numerous mistresses. She would only care about her expense account, if it would swell or not. I would tear Mariano’s heart out, rip his balls off, if I gave him all my trust and he hurt me in this way. What my sister valued and what I valued were two wildly different things.
“Annie.”
“Hah?”
He grinned at me and squeezed my hand. “Leave the heavy thoughts back in Italy.”
I blinked at him. “Get out of my head, Mariano Fausti.”
He brought my hand to his mouth, laughing against it. “No fucking way. It’s the most colorful place I’ve ever been.”
I grinned. “No doubt a circus without the animals being held against their wills.”
He returned the grin. “More like a rodeo.”
He hit the gas, the truck growled a bit, and we arrived in town in almost no time. At the entrance to the small downtown, I pointed to the right.
“Coffee!” I shouted.
