He turned me to face him. The intensity in his eyes made my heart feel heavy, and my heart directed the next words from my mouth.
“No.” I shook my head, holding on to his arms. “You are more than enough, Rocco. It’s just that…ever since I left for Italy, it feels like my life changed so fast, you know? I just found out that my only friend was working undercover. In the beginning, she was probably investigating Nonna and me. That a-hole, you know his name, could have seriously hurt me.”
Rocco’s hold on me tightened, and his eyes looked crazed.
“I know. I was lucky. But that a-hole aside, it just…hurts a little to let go of the life I had, even if it is for one that’s all mine.” I touched his chest.“Mine.Can you understand that?”
He shook his head. “You are all I see,” he said. “All I feel. If you are here, all is right.”
“Same for me, too,” I said. “But what about how you felt before me? I bet you didn’t recognize your life after, either.”
He said nothing, and neither did I, as we held on to each other.
Soldiers walked through the entryway, followed by Brando holding Scarlett’s hand. Romeo and Juliette were right behind. More soldiers followed them.
Rocco kissed my head again, breathing me in. “You will spend all the money you desire,” he said. “I will know if you do not, and this will insult me.”
“I’m not good with money,” I said. “I run from it.”
“You will not,” he said. “You will not run from anything any longer. You are with me.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He held me closer.
He had a business meeting. The ladies and I were going shopping. Rocco told me to pick out furniture for the shotgun house, since I’d be taking Nonna’s things with me to Italy. NewOrleans was often threatened by hurricanes, and I didn’t want to have to worry about how her things would fair. So, I was going to buy furniture and things that were not as personal. Juliette had also planned a spa day and teatime for us at a hotel in New Orleans that was Old World English inspired.
Scarlett took my hand as we left, whispering how wonderful it felt that all four of us seemed to feel the same way about leaving—our men watched us, and as we moved further and further away with the soldiers, it seemed like we were leaving our hearts behind.
As I sat in the armored SUV, I watched out of the window as Rocco and his brothers moved closer to us. They were all waiting by the threshold of the rental.
“Don’t ever let anyone tell you that this isn’t normal,” Scarlett whispered, staring in the direction of her husband. “We leave them, they leave us, hearts are missing.”
“So true,” I whispered.
A few cars pulled around us, and men I’d never seen before stepped out. One of the men was tall, thin, and fair skinned with bright eyes. But there was nothing weak about him. He seemed fast, strong, maybe even lethal. He was probably around Rocco’s age. It was hard to tell. Scarlett said his name was Lev. But he was opening the door for another man as our SUV pulled away from the curb.
Our eyes met through the window, but I doubted he could see me.
I’d seen him before, but where?
He looked so familiar, but I couldn’t place him for the life of me.
Throughout our shopping trip, after we arrived at the hotel and started our spa treatments, the man’s face kept plaguing me. Scarlett seemed like she wanted to ask, but she didn’t. Maybe she figured she couldn’t help me as much as she sometimescouldn’t help herself. But I knew I was being quiet, my head in the clouds more than usual. But my sisters of the heart, because that was what they felt like to me, didn’t try to make me talk or be someone I wasn’t. Sometimes one of them would just grab my hand and squeeze or just offer me something to drink or to eat. I knew I was going to depend on these women. We all had something in common.
We were married to the Fausti Four—Luca’s sons.
At some point, Scarlett’s friend, Violet, from Natchitoches met up with us. Scarlett introduced us, and in a rush, she pulled Scarlett to the side and they started arguing.
“You didn’t tell me about Rosaria, Sandy!” she whispered, but it was loud enough to hear. “And who’s the new chick?”
“Keep your voice down,” Scarlett almost shushed her, bringing her to a different area of the spa center.
Juliette smiled. “Violet’s nice, but she doesn’t keep in touch with us as much as she used to. She gets her feelings hurt when something happens and Scarlett doesn’t tell her. But she doesn’t always answer the phone, so… It’s just one of those things. Violet’s husband, Mitch, was close with Brando, and when that asshole, Olivier Nemours, almost killed Scarlett, Mitch told Brando maybe it was for the best that Scarlett and Brando should part because trouble always seems to follow them. Brando didn’t take kindly to this.” She waved a hand. “We’re from a small town, and there’s always drama.”
About twenty minutes later, Violet took a seat next to me, commenting on the colors of nail polishes I was torn between, cream or red, and then started talking her head off. She was good company, and nice, but my head was still on that man’s face.
I recognized him, but from where…?
