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Yeah, I was. What was the sorcery that was happening in this fucking place? Maybe all the Baroque decor had held onto magic from an age long gone and was working in this time.

I’d been reading over a pamphlet a few minutes before I’d set my eyes on Sistine, and the pamphlet gave the history between the jewelry store and my family.

My family was the only source of income the jewelry family had, because they had been doing business since both families began their roles in this world. So, we were exclusive with each other. But there were rules.

One of them being: No Fausti could date, much less marry, a Capella/Cappello.

A terrible romantic situation had stemmed from it, and since the jewelry family and the Fausti family didn’t want their business relationship sullied by romantic ones, it became an iron-clad rule.

This all to say, Cappello wasn’t their true given name.

It was Capella. Someone in my family years ago had gotten it wrong when their dealings first began, and since the Capella family of that time didn’t want to insult my family by pointing out the mistake, the jewelry store adopted the name, since it was close to their true name.

An O instead of an A . But capella in Italian means chapel , so the Renaissance Painting’s real name meant—Sistine Chapel.

She was more than art.

She was everything the chapel stood for.

I was willing to bet her physical appearance had nothing on what was going on inside of her, if she could lose the pinched look she had for me. She was stopping me at her door. She had closed herself off to me, guarding everything she had control over. What existed beyond the flesh.

Mia bopped me on the head with the pamphlet, and I grinned at her, fixing my hair. She was reminding me of the rules. It was more than that, though. Capri kept staring at me, and I was engaged in a two-way stare—three, including myself.

Capri kept staring at me, Sistine kept looking away, and I kept my eyes on both. Not because I had any interest in Capri, but because I could sense a situation between the two sisters. The harder Capri stared at me, the more disgusted Sistine seemed to be getting.

Huh.

Adone, though, was clueless. I could tell he was worried that something might happen between Capri and me.

Especially with how openly she was staring.

It seemed like he was totally dismissing anything happening between Sistine and me, since he put her in charge of showing us to our personal vault full of priceless jewels and collectables.

Big fucking mistake.

Maybe Capri might have been more forward with flirting, but a man with a true romantic heart wouldn’t be able to look past Sistine Capella.

I’d never considered myself only romantic, but the threads of my heritage seemed to ensnare me the moment my eyes found her surrounded by all that colorful light, entranced by her trade.

Her eyes.

I released a breath.

Hazel.

Her eyes were a hypnotizing hazel.

Suddenly, my favorite fucking colors of the kaleidoscope.

Because they created the spellbinding colors of her eyes.

Hers were more of an olive green, with a touch of deep blue, and gold around her irises.

I didn’t know if I wanted to take a walk through an olive grove or take a dive into the depths of the Tyrrhenian Sea, both during the golden hour of the day.

In response to Adone’s order, Sistine looked horrified, and for some reason, that made me grin. Adone had shifted fate in my direction, leaving the forward sister behind and giving me time with the one who was sending me daggers.

My heart seemed to swell with the dangerous intentions in her eyes.

There wasn’t anything I loved more than a dangerous woman, especially when she seemed capable of going past flesh and hitting the heart in my chest. Just by looking at her, there was an ache that started inside of me that I’d never felt before.

I wasn’t sure what heartbreak felt like, but if I had to guess, what I was feeling was exactly what this foreign feeling was close to.

Fuck me sideways.

I said a “fuck Marciano” (the brother directly after me) under my breath.

The family that had founded the House of Sicilia had arrived.

Based in Sicily, they were some of the most famous clothing designers in the world.

The head designer and his wife stood with their daughter Sicilia, who was named after the company and the place it was rooted.

Sicilia was in the process of taking over the helm of the family dynasty.

Apparently Cappello’s Jewelry and the House of Sicilia were collaborating to design clothes inspired by the Fausti family.

Marciano was used to knocking grown men out with barely a blow of his fist, but the moment his eyes found Sicilia, he moved into the shadows like he’d been sucker punched against the wall.

What did I say? Fucking sorcery.

The entire time my sister kept giving me looks, like she knew what the fuck was going on and had the sorcery all figured out.

Which in turn sent Matteo into “head of the family” mode.

I could tell he was going to order me to stay out front, but before he could, Mamma put a stop to it.

She wasn’t in the business of trying to stop fate.

Instead of fighting fate, Matteo hit me on the head with a pamphlet, again, attempting to hit me over the head with rules and knock some order into me.

A grin I had no control over came to my face when I thought about Sistine going to grab the key to our vault without an argument, probably because she didn’t want to cause a scene in front of me. It was the challenge in my eyes. She’d read it.

We’d only shared a look. But we both seemed to know the truth. There was something new between us that took a breath the moment our eyes met, even if she was going to refuse to acknowledge it.

At first.

My uncle, Romeo, who was my father’s youngest brother, collected me and Marciano by our necks as we walked in a group to a door that led to the underground vaults.

Venice and its underground only conjured up one image—below the surface.

The entire place was a city built on wooden piles.

But like all inventive cities, Venice found a way to hide what it didn’t want to be seen.

Venice has a crypt, and our vaults were built in the same fashion.

My skin prickled with goosebumps and my nose flared after we stopped by the metal door and waited.

Sistine was coming up from behind me, and it was like her scent ran a tender hand down my neck before it reached my lungs. She smelled of leather and metal, which recalled her trade, but underneath it all…apple, pear, and rose with an undercurrent of citrus.

The first two scents seemed to come from her hands, the middle two from her breath, but the last two in the bouquet drifted from her hair.

The smell of her seemed to dance around me, the cold watery air only intensifying the smell.

I felt fucking drunk, like I might stumble behind her when she started to lead us to the vault.

Zio Romeo tightened his grip on my neck before he unleashed me. It didn’t seem to matter if I was chained or not. I was going to follow behind her. And not because I truly wanted to, but because something deep inside of me ordered me to.

The same voice that had ordered me to follow her also started whispering in my ear about how dangerous this situation could be if somehow the vault started to leak, and we became trapped underneath the city. I was a risk-taker by nature, so the sudden anxiety shocked the shit out of me.

When we arrived at the vault and Sistine couldn’t get the door to open, I knocked into the guy who was accompanying her and rammed the door with my shoulder. I winked at her, just to get a response, and she gave me what I wanted.

An eye roll.

We all filed into the vault, and Matteo already had a direction in mind: a ring that resembled the Northern Star.

It had been worn by our great-grandmother, Grazia Angeli, who had been one of Italy’s most famous actresses.

It was just like Matteo to know what he wanted and go after it.

In comparison, I was the rebel second brother who dabbled in many things but had a hard time committing to one.

I’d never truly found my way like Matteo had.

From a young age, he knew what he wanted, and for many years, my path was whichever way his went, but I’d veered off at some point and had been lost along my own way ever since.

My eyes kept flicking to Sistine, who was waiting for my brother to announce that he wanted the ring. The guy who came along searched his notebook when Matteo asked about it. The Cappello worker said he would have to get permission for it.

As if fate was inside the building with us, my grandfather’s voice echoed in the cavernous space full of priceless diamonds and jewels glistening with the firelight.

Right away, Sistine seemed to straighten even harder, even her features.

I noticed that, after my grandfather gave Matteo permission to take the ring and left with Matteo to fill out the proper paperwork, she visibly relaxed, even though a lingering stiffness was still present.

Very professional, especially when she was studiously avoiding making eye contact with me.

And then she was gone.

Suddenly, like I had grown strings attached to her, I followed, keeping my hands tucked into the deep pockets of my custom-made coat.

Her steps were fast, though. Our vault had different passageways with signs directing how to get around, but mostly how to find the exit.

I had to take a few twists and turns, and even though I hated to fucking admit it, I was taking them fast.

She’d made it into a hunt when the smell of her reached my nose.