The next words from my mouth seemed to fly out, but I whispered them. “Is everything okay?” My eyes automatically went to the crowd, to the tables of food, to the house, but I didn’t see my husband. I stood abruptly, fisting the long dress in my hands, about to shoulder past him to find my husband. I could feel like Scarlett and Eva, had when Rocco’s life was on the line and the seconds ticked by and the explosives were about to tear the house apart with him in it, but I didn’t trust myself to do it all the time. I was better at working out this…gift…with words.
Luca took my arm. He wasn’t hurting me, but I felt the pressure. He nodded to an iron bench in a darkened part of the yard, away from the party, roses surrounding it. A strong breeze stirred them up, and I could smell their oils perfuming the air.
I crossed my arms and shook my head. “Where’s my husband?”
He said nothing, his eyes staring into mine. I truly looked at him then. His hair was not as impeccable as it always was. Hiseyes were steady, but something told me that, underneath his skin, a volcano was going off.
Long gone was the man who accepted me as the daughter of his heart. This was Luca Leone Fausti, the man the world feared. What I didn’t completely understand was…why? Why the sudden change?
Thinking back…Luca had been watching Maggie Beautiful the entire night, but that wasn’t unusual for these men. He could be contemplative, like all his sons, a little dry at times, a lot of the time serious, especially when business was in play, but…since my mind was being clouded by the happiness I had been feeling, I realized then how off he’d been.
Talk to me…the plea went through my head. I didn’t dare speak it out loud, though. This animal. This animal, who for some reason was in this…mood…space…was looking at me with contemplation. As if he had something on his mind, and the jury inside of his head was still out. I wanted to say something, but all that was inside of me was screaming at me to be quiet.
My eyes looked to the right of him for a second, not wanting to make direct eye contact, or he might think I was challenging him—in any other circumstance, especially over my husband, I would, but something inside of me broke when I thought I felt something…odd coming from him.
Fear.
Why?
The only thing that could make this man fear, any Fausti man, it seemed…was the loss of their woman.
Oh God. Was it Maggie Beautiful?
In that instant, my feelings of uncertainty converted to care. I only wanted to give him grace. Understanding. A sense of peace.
None of that could come from me, though.
Shadows stretched in fast-moving ripples as my husband cut the corner and came into view. Eva and Gabriel wereright behind. Behind them, Scarlett and Brando. Then Maggie Beautiful’s sweet voice cut through the tension, the danger, as she called for her husband.
“Luca!”
Luca stared at me for a moment before fireworks exploded over our heads again, and Maggie Beautiful took her husband’s arm and pulled him close.
“The night is not over, handsome! We came here to celebrate the daughter of our heart—one of them.” She giggled. “My feet are not tired yet!”
Luca nodded at her, kissed her cheek, and then nodded at me. I had a hard time moving my eyes away from them as they walked away.
At the same time fireworks exploded over my head again, my husband set his hand on my lower back, and I jumped. I laughed it off, but he seemed to know there was a false note to it. I had no idea what was going on with his father, but I wasn’t ready to speak on it yet. Instead, I plastered on my best smile and almost repeated word for word what Maggie Beautiful had told her husband.
Was she hiding behind it too? There was no doubt Luca wasn’t buying it either, but maybe for the sake of the party and his wife’s happiness, he was willing to set it to the side as well.
In that moment, I pushed it to the side, because I didn’t like the look on Eva’s face, and I didn’t want my husband to see.
Chapter 10
Just Like Old Times
Aria Amora
Our bags were packed and waiting at the door to what used to be my grandparents’ home. Now it was ours for whenever we decided to visit my hometown. We were leaving the next day for Italy, this time Tuscany, where Rocco had property—a winery.
It almost felt surreal being in the house I was raised in. Being there with my husband, knowing we could visit when life permitted, not having to worry about paying rent and losing a piece of my childhood; a piece of my life…sent a wonderful feeling to my heart.
Then it flopped over in my chest, and all I felt was dread. Dread for something that, perhaps, was coming—something no one would be able to change.
I sighed, setting the last of the lunch spread—a baked feta cheese dip with figs—on the table.
I glanced over my shoulder at the back door. Rocco was building me another shed out in the small backyard for whenever we came to visit and I wanted to use it for extra storage. He was thinking back to the cottage in Natchitoches and how I felt like I was thriving by canning goods and cooking forhim. He seemed to like it in New Orleans, and wherever we went, it seemed, he wanted me to be happy.
