I wasn’t convinced. Not even close.“Why did you take my phone?”
He pulled back enough to look me straight in the eye.“It’s the house policy. No electronics for outsiders. It keeps everyone safe, including you.”
He must’ve seen the doubt all over my face, but he didn’t say a word.
“If you want me so badly, then why are we even sleeping in separate rooms?”
Part of me didn’t even want to share a bed with him, not anymore. But the other part needed to know.
Tony chuckled under his breath, then pulled me down with him onto the couch.
“Getting a little impatient, huh?” he teased me then his voice became low and cocky. “When the time comes, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to move for days. But until then let’s not wake those little hormones of yours and cloud your judgment.”
His words knocked the breath out of me for a second but I tried to maintain my composure. Judging by the grin on his face, I failed miserably.
He stretched back, ready to end the conversation. “You’ve had a long day. If you don’t have any more questions, go get some rest.”
Oh I had questions. One especially and it wouldn’t leave me alone. “Why did Brando call Carlo that terrifying name? What does ‘wife-killer’ even mean?”
“Don’t tell me you’re buying Brando’s crap. The guy’s a clown. Half of what he says is pure bullshit.”
“So Carlo never had a wife before Lucia?”
“He did. But I assure you both of them died of natural causes.”
My brows shot up. Both? As in… two dead wives?
“Wait.Bothof them? So, Lucia’s his third? How old is this guy?”
Tony sighed, clearly running low on patience. “He’s a year younger than me.”
“So, twenty-eight,” I muttered. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘natural causes?”
He suddenly stood and grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”
Right outside, Rafael stood like some guard dog, alert and ready. Tony told him to wait there and he only nodded.
We walked through the hallway and into a library straight out of a Harry Potter movie. Though the giant flat-screen in the corner kind of killed the old-world vibe. But what really caught my eye was the huge family portrait on the wall.
Tony nodded toward it. “That’s the wife-killer.”
The photo showed the entire Bruni family. Don Fernando sat in the middle, suit perfect, eyes dark with the kind of stillness that silences a room. Next to him was Carmen. She hadn’t changed much, though her blonde hair was longer back then. She looked like a woman caught between seasons, half spring, half winter. Not quite young, not fully aged.
Behind them stood Brando, probably in his teens. His blue eyes already had that mischievous spark, and he stood at the center among his brothers. The height difference between them formed a subtle V shape. Carlo and Tony were nearly the same height, though Carlo seemed a little taller. Tony, like Don Fernando, was dressed to impress. Hand in his pocket, the other adjusting his lapel.
Carlo was the total contrast. He wore a black T-shirt with a graphic of skeletal hands locked together. Arms crossed. Staring into the camera like he was sizing up a threat. His hair was as dark as Tony’s, though Tony’s was smoother.
It was obvious Don Fernando, Tony, and Carlo shared the same blood. The bone structure, the jawlines, it was all there. The only real difference was in their eye color. Don Fernando and Tony had those deep, jet-black eyes.
Carlo’s, on the other hand, were a piercing gray. The more I watched him, the more something itched at the back of my brain. I’d seen those eyes before somewhere.
“You really think this pretty boy could kill someone?” Tony asked. “Look at that classic lady-killer face. He plays the tough guy, but at the end of the day, he’s no more than a smug womanizer.”
I kept staring. That face… it was pulling something out of my memory.
“I think I’ve seen him before,” I said, mostly to myself. “Those eyes…”
I leaned in closer, narrowing my gaze.“I’ve seen those eyes somewhere.”
