Page 20

Mariano

H er father tried to hide her— mine —from me.

Flavio Capella told me his daughter was none of my business, and if she never returned to Italy, that was none of my business as well.

It was the first time blood seemed to coat my vision, and my mind went numb, except for the order my heart was giving to kill the man attempting to stop me from getting to mine .

Sistine Evita.

Remo had called Guido, his uncle, who had gotten in touch with my uncle, Rocco, who my sister and brothers all called Padrino . Padrino was next in line to rule the Fausti family, and he showed up to have a meeting with Flavio.

Padrino was mostly quiet, listening to Flavio go on and on about how the rules did not permit me to claim his daughter. However, if it was Capri I was after…

My uncle’s attention had come to me then, and even without me giving so much as a shake of the head. He knew.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

Flavio had no idea how close he came to death that day. Or maybe he had. That was why a meeting was called with my uncle.

After we left, Padrino ordered me to accompany him.

He was quiet for most of the trip. My uncle was unlike himself.

He had been having marriage troubles, and it was plain to see they had finally made it past his heart and to his troubled mind.

It was no easy feat to live with a woman such as Rosaria Caffi for as long as he had.

It was his loyalty to the family that had kept him rooted to their marriage.

Not long before we landed in Tuscany, he cleared his throat and said, “If you love Signora Capella, you will have to brave fate. It is the only way with the Capella family. You are allowed to find her by our power. However, your grandfather has ordered you and Remo to brief him on the status of this situation. Romantic or not, we have rules and laws for a reason.”

Simply fucking stating it, I could find Sistine and spend time with her, but my grandfather would speak to me alone after our time was over.

As soon as our conversation had come to an end, Rio was waiting for me. He’d found Sistine in Wyoming with the tracking device, and the rest he had deduced with the information he knew about Bianca Capella, changed to Watt after she was married and took her husband’s last name.

I was on a plane the same day, Angelo coming with me.

Remo and a few men from my crew were scheduled to arrive the next day.

I hadn’t minced words with Hannah about who I was or my intentions.

I could tell straightaway she was a woman who would appreciate honesty.

It was all I had to offer—anything less meant dishonor to me.

Finding out that Sistine was hidden on a ranch made all the pieces fit. The boots. The music. Maybe even how good a shot she was.

It was time my pieces fit for her as well.

Hannah took my hand and brought me to an enclosure. She was a quiet woman with eyes that reminded me of my mamma’s, which was why I probably liked her right away. The color and shape of them were different, but not the depth and intention. She nodded toward the horse, then my back, and left.

I watched the wild stallion in his appointed area. He was a mean-looking son of a bitch who seemed to have feral dog running through his veins, given how often he bared his teeth at me. His ears were pinned back, his body tense, and his tail was raised to accompany the threat show.

He was a puppy dog compared to what was mine in Italy.

I removed my hat and wiped sweat from my brow, then sat it backwards on my head.

I was seeing the stallion, but my thoughts were on Sistine.

She was always cuddled up with the spring-born babies or keeping busy doing whatever needed to be done around the ranch.

I had to admit that the ranch was a good place for her to be.

It was fenced where it needed to be, and the men who lived on the premises were loyal.

Lev, a Russian assassin whose presence had been weaved into the tapestry of our lives because he had known my mamma when she was young, gave us intel on our Russian enemies when he had some to spare.

Iggy had no clue where Sistine had gone.

She had disappeared, and he was causing trouble among the men he had decided to fight with.

The Russians were nowhere near as organized as the Italians.

There was no counterpart comparable to how our system ran.

So, Iggy was becoming increasingly violent amongst his own crew.

Even if he’d a clue where Sistine had gone, I doubted he would have attempted to get close. Lev had told us with a laugh that Iggy and family thought the West of America was still wild.

I studied the stallion for a while longer before I stepped out into the unforgiving heat.

The sun was high, shedding light on the towering mountain range beyond and the miles and miles of feral land around me.

But the land had nothing on the woman who was probably singing country tunes to the baby animals she enjoyed taking care of.

The one area I’d never seen her electively go was to the stables, and it wasn’t only because the stables were my main area. There was something there. Reluctance.

One of the new workers was stepping out of the barn where Sistine was taking care of the baby animals. He tipped his hat to me and grinned.

“You’re Italian, right?”

I nodded.

“You have the language, right?”

Another nod.

“How do you say… cute ? Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “How about… want to go out sometime soon? And… I’ll show you mine if you show me yours ?” He started to laugh, but my hand around his throat cut off his humor.

He wheezed, clawing at my grip, as I slammed his body against the wood. His eyes were frantic as he searched my steady ones, and true fear lurked in the depths of his dilating eyes.

A few seconds before his lights went out, I leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “A warning to you and anyone else thinking of coming close to mine. This is it.” I released him as his eyes shut, and he fell to the ground with a thud.

Coming around the corner was Bianca, Sistine’s aunt. She looked between the downed boy and me, then shook her head. “This is a problem.”

I knew what she meant. Bianca was accustomed to our ways, and she knew any man approaching mine was going to be trouble for them.

“Not anymore,” I said. “He’ll spread the word.”

She squatted down next to the boy, slapping his cheeks. Her skin was weathered and freckled. Her niece in Italy looked a lot like her. She ordered a worker who was passing to bring her a bucket of water.

The downed boy moaned, but his eyes sprang open and he yipped when the bucket was tipped over his head and the cold water sluiced down his body.

He shook his head like a dog, and when he noticed I was still around, he got to his feet in record time, even if he was swaying a bit, and got the fuck out of dodge.

Bianca looked me in the eyes. “If he leaves, you owe me another man.”

“My nephews, who are under five, are more of a man than him. A quarter of one of my men can replace him.”

She waved a hand at me but did not argue.

She couldn’t. She knew I was right. She motioned toward the stables, and I followed behind her.

We were headed to the “older” stables where all the work took place on the horses—medical, shoes, etc.

Not far away was a new European-style prime stable that had two rows of stalls on the inside, the horses facing each other.

Sistine emerged from the dimness of the barn and blinked at me. She took her aunt’s side, and when we met up with Hannah, Sistine wrapped her arm around Hannah’s, giving me a quick glance. As the two women looked out at the land, Sistine brought up bison and Hannah’s latest sketch of them.

Sistine made eye contact with me as I passed them. I nodded to her but didn’t hang around for long. We’d been dancing around each other ever since I’d arrived three days ago. I always knew where she was, and it almost seemed like she found me, even if she avoided the stables when I was in them.

Her eyes were on me until I disappeared. Another set was on both of us. Hannah. It seemed like she had eyes all over the ranch.

Bianca sighed as she walked ahead of me to the stables. She nodded to the entrance. “The Faustis are a variety of men, but I do not think in all my years in Italy, I have ever met a man of your blood who enjoyed getting his hands dirty as much as you do—with animals, of course.”

“Of course,” I responded in Italian.

She seemed to enjoy speaking in her native tongue.

Her children knew the language, or most of it, so maybe us being here brought back the good side of home to her.

Not her family or mine but being an Italian.

She hadn’t brought up her Fausti experience with me, and I doubted she would.

Even the situation between her daughter and Angelo wasn’t discussed.

Whatever existed between them was moving fast.

Bianca seemed to be a woman who would stop her children if they were in danger, and maybe in the darkness she gave Atta her experience with my family, but it also seemed as if she gave them the freedom to live, even after she had lost so much. It seemed she was doing the same for her niece.

She sighed when she looked at me. It was like she was following my train of thought.

“I do not love this situation, but we must make choices for ourselves. My family did not allow this. Neither does yours. The situations on this ranch will work themselves out, however they are meant to be.” She turned and left.

I entered the dim stables with a lot on my mind. A lot being Sistine Evita, aka, my Annie. Not only had she taken over the vital organ pumping in my chest, but my mind too. It wandered to the point that I lost track of time while I took care of the horses.