He shrugged. “Perhaps some would see it this way. However, some would see it as a fight for love, and if the fight is true, then they will come out the victors.”
“Is that a kind way of saying Avelina and Ricco were not meant to be?”
He patted my hand. “Not at all, my niece. Or am I allowed to call you something sweeter? Such as…Biscottina.”
I grinned, and it came slow. He wanted to call me cookie, perhaps because he thought I was sweet. “I’ll take it.”
“Bene!” He patted my hand again. “That is a terrible story—the end of Avelina’s life. It not only killed her, but Ricco as well. He was never the same after. Her death killed him.” He sighed. “My nephew, Luca, not only inherited his father’s ruthlessness, but his grandfather’s.”
He became quiet after that, as if he was thinking back in time. Something was nagging at me, though. How he’d said,Luca inherited not only his father’s ruthlessness, but his grandfather’s.
“Was Nonno Marzio’s father in charge of the family then?”
“Sì.”
My eyes focused on the dancers as my mind raced with an idea that was both terrifying and angering.
“ProzioTito,” I whispered.
Maybe the wind had delivered my voice to him, but I had no doubt his hearing was as sharp as a doctor’s scalpel. He said nothing, but I could tell by the set of his face he’d heard me.
“Avelina was killed in an air-raid.”
“This is the story we were all told.”
“Do you believe it?”
“Sì.There is no questioning a Fausti’s word once he gives it.”
I released the breath I’d been holding. “But there’s more to the story, isn’t there? Nonno Marzio’s fatherdidn’t like the feud between his sons. So, he wanted to get rid of her? Maybe he led her to her death, and it just so happened to be an air-raid.”
His eyes swung to mine so fast, I wondered if it had made him dizzy. He clasped my hand and squeezed. “Be careful,understand? Be very careful. You are as perceptive as our Scarlett, but our Scarlett is not married to the next king of this family, do you understand? So much is at stake. And whatever is going on with my nephew, Luca, is apparent to me. Even if I, at times, have a hard time walking on uneven land, there is nothing wrong with these eyes or my perception.”
Maestro walked up with Aunt Lola then, and Uncle Tito and I stared at each other until we slowly looked away. Uncle Tito smiled, but I could tell his wife was as perceptive as he was. She looked at me before she took a seat on her husband’s lap and kissed his head.
“This is such a beautiful night,” she said to me. “It brings me back. A bit before my time, but it still brings back memories of the past. You did a wonderful job with the celebration, niece. Thank you for bringing such good feelings to this family.”
I squeezed her hand. “Prego,ProziaLola.”
She lifted our hands and placed a loud smooch on my knuckles. She looked at Maestro after. “I adore this song, nephew. Would you mind rolling us to the dance floor?”
Maestro answered her by saying, “anything for a beautiful woman.” She laughed and they all waved at me as Maestro took them both to the dance floor, where the couples there made a circle around them, making them the center.
A sigh that felt like it was weighing on my heart slipped from my lips, and at the exact moment I was about to take another drink of wine, one of the shorter Fausti men (who were never referred to as boys, they were just shorter men!) who I’d given a sparkler to earlier tapped me on my arm. I went to smile at him, but when he had my attention, he shook my arm and pointed to another area of the land. He was trying to get me to stand up. I did, and he ran ahead of me, motioning me to hurry behind him.
He was rushing to a more secluded area of the property. When we reached a more wooded area, a couple of shorterFausti men were attempting to stomp out a small fire probably started by the sparklers.
“We will get our ass whooped if our fathers find out!” one of the shorter Fausti men said in a rush of Italian—or that was what I figured it boiled down to. He’d pointed at his behind when he’d said “culo,” meaningass.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Go back to the party. I’ll take care of this.”
Most of the shorter Fausti men took off. A few refused to budge.
The one Shortie who came and got me shook his head and crossed his arms. “I am not leaving you, such a beautiful woman. I am no coward.”
Another Shorty pointed in the direction the running Shorties went in. “They belong to Francesco’s line.Cowards!” He made a rude gesture to their retreating backs.
“The only reason I came to you is because you are sweet, and we cannot seem to put the fire out alone.”
