“I’m sure you know there’s, er, trouble brewing with Francesco’s line. I know you can take care of yourself, but I’d love to honor your mamma by keeping you out of trouble.”
“I am a Fausti.” All traces of the romantic Shorty had disappeared, and he was ramrod straight.
“I know, but…at least for now.”
“I will do my best,Signora?—”
“Ari.” He continued to call meSignoraFausti, and whenever I had the chance to, I continued to give him permission to call me by my first name.
“—Ari,” he whispered, “to keep myself safe in times of trouble.”
“All right.” I nodded, fixing him with a stern, but stern with love, stare. “I’m counting on it.”
Rocco opened my door and, giving me his hand, helped me out of the SUV. “You take my breath away when you do this,” he said, and I could hear the pride in his voice.
“What? Step out of the car?”
“Sì, and capture the entire world around you with a move.”
A rush of warmth spread from my heart to my chest to my cheeks. I wrapped my arm around his, and I’d never felt prouder to be who I was in that moment.
The woman who was blessed enough to walk next to this man and call him husband.
Ermanno mumbled something under his breath. Maybe damn? His dialect was one I couldn’t always understand.
Exactly my sentiments, though, when my eyes truly fixed on the towering form of the…castelloin front of us. I was sure this place had to be listed in history books somewhere. I placed a hand on Rocco’s arm to stop him from walking.
“Do you love this…house?” Calling it a house was a humongous understatement, but if this had been Rocco’s home, it should have felt that way.
I often thought about the differences between Brando and Rocco. Brando must’ve locked eyes on this place long after he could’ve. From my understanding, Brando and Maggie Beautifulwanted nothing to do with this family, even refusing to take money from them, until Scarlett accidentally danced on their toes while in Italy.
That had to have been a great shock to her.
But…I could empathize with Brando. All these riches had been sitting here for centuries with his name on them, and they were probably struggling to pay the light bill. My father was rich, and we were struggling. He could’ve at least sent my grandmother money to take care of me, his daughter.
Occasionally, he’d get a wild hair and send a few bucks. My grandmother would send it back with a note:you can stick your hundred dollars up your ass.My grandmother was one of the nicest women, but she had an Italian temper and wasn’t afraid to use it when it reared its head.
Then there was the woman who gave birth to me. The one person who should’ve been willing to give her life for me, since she gave birth to me, didn’t want me. Not after she claimed a new name, a new life, and created a new family.
Rocco had a mother, but she had only given birth to him to give him up to the family. She didn’t want him. She wanted compensation.
My husband lived in this grand castle, stared out its windows, probably wondering, had he been anyone else, would he be allowed beyond its walls? He was born to serve this family as a soldier would, and then, as he grew older, wiser, and more vicious, kill for it.
Once he earned his place, he would rule it. He’d stare out the same window, but with a crown upon his head and palms full of blood.
My heart belonged to Rocco, and it truly broke for him and for how lonely he’d been. I felt for Brando, too, knowing he’d denied all this so that he wouldn’t be beholden to it.
From all views, it was a messed-up situation.
Even for Dario and Romeo, who considered themselves spares to the heirs.
On the one hand, this family was amazing. The traditions, the respect, the romance. They embodied what it meant to be Italian.
On the other hand…they were ruthless to the core. I couldn’t imagine what it would take to send a young woman into a war zone where she’d be killed to placate a son who was a favorite. Or for a man, Luca, to even consider killing another, Uncle Tito, to send him to his wife, Aunt Lola, even if it wasn’t his time.
Rocco searched my eyes, as if he was attempting to read the thoughts behind them. In so many ways, my husband was learning to live outside of his family’s lines, and I could tell he was sometimes lost without them—then he’d take my hand, and together, we would find our way.
“It is a beautifulcastello,” he finally said, answering me but not.
