Balance…I would balance.
Grabbing my curling iron and a few other bathroom items…no, I couldn’t hold it all. I’d just make a separate trip for my toiletry bag and the things I needed to pack in it. I entered our room to find Rocco staring at the bathroom door.
My first thought was…Oh my God.Maggie Beautiful.But he must have read the panicked look on my face and shook his head.
“My father called a meeting,” he said, as solemn as if someone had passed.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He cleared his throat, rolled up his sleeves. For him, that was unnerving. He seemed to want to reach for the whiskey but thought better of it.
“The witch, as Ermanno refers to her as, has made a bold claim.”
“And what is that?” I breathed out, the truth already making it to my mind, but like death, it hit harder than expected when it was confirmed.
“She is claiming we had relations last night.”
“She’s claiming you fucked her.”
He nodded, and after I held my things tighter to my chest so I wouldn’t drop anything, I turned and disappeared into the bathroom again.
I’d be at that meeting.
I demanded to come face to face with the woman who made such a bold claim.
I was coming to realize that clothes were not only a form of self-expression in the Fausti family, but a power move. I understood Luca’s law on it—we dressed for success, expecting it. Also, for respect.
For the meeting with the woman who made such a bold claim, I went with a black turtleneck, cream slacks, and matching pumps. I pinned my hair up, my curtain bangs doing their job—highlighting the shape of my face. I went light on the makeup. Heavy on the jewelry, but it didn’t overwhelm me.
Rocco slipped a long coat over my shoulders. I could see he was hesitant to touch me, at first, but after he read my body language, he offered me his arm, and we walked to a fast car Guido had pulled up to the front ofNel Cielofor him.
After helping me inside, my husband fixed his long coat and slid into the driver’s seat. He took my hand, but neither of us said anything on the drive to Luca’s walled city. I watched as the muted Italian landscape slipped by in a blur.
The world was frozen outside of the window.
Except inside of me, fires burned.
The baby that was ours.
And.
My temper.
Once we were past the armed guards at Luca’s palatial city, my husband took the direct route to his father’scastello. He didn’t hesitate as he parked the car, fixed his jacket and suit again, and then helped me out of the car.
Rocco might have been feeling one way, or a hundred, but all the world would get was a stone-cold facade. Somehow, I knew, though. The situation had unnerved him. It was in the way he looked at me—like he was already asking for forgiveness, something he never asked anyone else for before.
Even though I was keeping myself together, his reaction, through a non-reaction, was making all I was keeping inside shove against my self-control. I could hear the insanity inside of me banging to be set free, but I had to hear what this witch had to say first.
I squeezed my husband’s hand when Maggie Beautiful was waiting at the door to open it. She hugged us both, and after an older lady who worked for them took our coats, Maggie Beautiful walked us to the office. She’d never done that before, and she pulled me to her so hard before I entered the room, I gasped.
“Save your claws for the right time,” she whispered in my ear. “Don’t be like me, but be like me.” She squeezed my arms before she pulled away fully.
My husband set his hand on my lower back, ushering me into his father’s office.
It was exactly how I’d imagine the king of Italy’s office to look. All dark furniture, leather seats, brass finishes, the scent of a man’s fine cologne, cigar smoke, and expensive cognac drifting in the air. It was a place for business, family matters that were handled in a business setting, and probably for long conversations with men my father-in-law enjoyed having wars of words with.
My father-in-law not only enjoyed clashing swords but clashing intellects. He wasn’t a man for small talk. He enjoyed meaningful conversations, especially when the man or woman challenged him to think in terms he wouldn’t have on his own.
