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The two soldiers sitting behind us both shifted some. Willa refused to sit in the back with us, stating that she was claustrophobic, and Remo allowed her to have the shotgun seat.

Before Atta could say anything to Willa, Willa sighed and turned toward Atta.

She lifted her hand in surrender before she gave me an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Sistine, I didn’t mean to be such a bitch.

But can’t you see how this entire night is not fair to Atta?

She’s supposed to be having fun, letting loose.

” She shook her boobs again. “Instead, she’s like a prisoner.

So many rules.” She turned to Atta. “It’s true. You know it.”

Atta leaned forward and grabbed Willa’s hand, squeezing once before she let go. “I know you’re trying to make this the best night for me, but my life is not the same as it was before. My husband’s family is…different.”

“Boy, if that’s not the truth.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “At least the men are fine, fine, fine . What’s the cousin’s name? Mari—or Marci—ends in ano ? Even Re mo.”

“Marciano,” I said, purposely giving her the wrong name. I saw the way she was checking out my husband when he had dropped me off at the main house, and although it was not the time to say this, I was itching to announce that he was my husband.

However, there were too many Fausti-connected ears in the car. I growled low in my throat, copying the way Mariano did it. I crossed my arms over my chest.

Atta smiled at Willa, but I could tell it was for show. “Starting now, we’ll have fun. What about all these people, though? Didn’t you reserve the place?”

“I did, so I’m not sure.”

“By the way,” I said, making the same motion I had before. “You have lipstick on your teeth.”

“I said I was sorry!” She must have caught my tone and thought I was mad about the Italian hand comment.

I was still irritated about my marriage being kept a secret.

Willa turned toward the mirror, and the entire interior lit up with the vanity light while she scrubbed the red off her pearly whites.

Remo, looking as serious as if this entire situation was a heart attack he needed to fix, stepped outside of the dance hall, every eye swinging in his direction.

Women looked in appreciation. Men in wariness.

The men of the Fausti family always seemed to pull these reactions out of people.

Remo was on the phone, his eyes flicking to the car every so often.

“What is the problem?” Willa huffed, going for the door. She was able to open it, and Remo’s eyes shot up when she did. She put both feet on the ground and made it to him.

For whatever reason, this seemed to piss Remo off.

He lifted her off her feet, throwing her over his shoulder, and I was not sure if she was screaming or making some odd noise, but she was beating against his back. This caused a scene. He opened her door, sat her in the seat, and then closed the door before she could hop out like a rabbit.

He pressed a button on the car, and it sounded as if we were all locked inside. She was fighting with the handle, beating on the window, screaming at him, her blond hair wild.

“Willa can be feral,” Atta whispered to me.

I tried the handle on my door, and it was not locked. I did not step out. I was, one , going to wait for one of the men to open my door, and two , I wanted to see how this was going to play out.

Remo seemed as if he was speaking to himself, but he was speaking into his earpiece.

The man in the front seat stepped out and opened Atta’s door, while at the same time, a different man opened mine.

This infuriated Willa. She started to beat harder, threatening to rip Remo’s balls from his sack for keeping her penned up.

Or she could have said pent up. It was hard to tell.

Remo had balls made of steel, it seemed. He decided to open her door.

She went for him, hands raised into claws, as if she might either go for his throat or his balls.

He smoothly set her on her feet and turned her toward the hall.

He got close enough to whisper something in her ear.

Whatever he said to her made her freeze mid-strike, although I could see how hard her heart pumped by the cadence of the rise and fall of her chest.

Remo fixed his hair and suit, then gave the go-ahead for us to move inside.

The patrons who were outside gave us a wide berth. I was up first in line. A few whistles came from the watching crowd. I turned my face toward the sound. A group of men. One of them winked at me and mouthed, “See you inside?”

My cheeks heated a little, and I hurriedly looked away, running a hand down my outfit.

Willa was adamant we all dress up a certain way.

I was wearing a satin dress with a corset top, the cups made of lace, and the side had a slit up the side, more lace hemming.

I wore a black belt with a wide silver buckle with it.

It cinched in my waist. A black cowboy hat sat atop my head, my hair down around my shoulders.

Remo was suddenly a wall blocking the winking man from me.

I stopped inside the door and exhaled.

The rush of cool air.

The smell of alcohol waltzing through it.

The dancers on the floor, boots smacking the old wood.

The music, all country and fast paced.

A tingle that started from my feet and rushed up to my chest made me shiver.

Gold Rush was a dance hall I had been to many times over the years. It was probably one of the strongest factors in me falling in love with country music. It had a vibe that matched mine somehow. I could let down my hair and enjoy myself.

My husband’s safe. He’s meeting me ?—

But…

The flirty men outside stirred butterflies in my stomach. So did whatever had gone on earlier. I knew Mariano was not going to allow the situation with Rattler to rest. It was not a matter of if . It was when .

If Rattler had not found out about the Faustis securing the Watt farm, they would soon. They would not allow that to rest either. No one told them no.

Atta appeared beside me, watching as Willa seemed to shake out of the shock Remo had temporarily had her in, making her way to the bar, already requesting shots. “A drink wouldn’t go amiss right now.” She sighed.

I looked at her. “What happened to us going to the original Gold Rush?”

The original Gold Rush was used only for private parties after the dance hall had grown so large that they had to expand into what was Gold Rush II, although everyone just called it Gold Rush.

Atta explained that Willa had gotten confused with the two, and she had reserved Gold Rush II, but Gold Rush II was not available to reserve unless it was Monday through Thursday, during the day. I pointed this out to Atta, and all she said was, “I know.”

Willa had lied, then, to get us here.

We were there.

I asked Remo, and he said Mariano had given the okay.

My eyes automatically went to the door. He would not have given the okay if he was far out. Perhaps he was keeping to the shadows, watching me already. I did not doubt it.

Sighing, I followed Atta to the bar. Remo followed me.

Sam, the silver-haired owner of Gold Rush, met us and asked what we wanted to drink—they were on the house, since Ms. Atta was getting married. This was a celebration. Then he asked if she would sing.

“Get a drink in me first, Sam.”

He laughed and slid a couple of shots on the bar. Remo eyed Sam and the drinks suspiciously. I would have set my arm on his, letting him know Sam was okay, but I knew better than to touch Remo. Mariano would have his arm for that.

I spoke to Remo in Italian and told him Sam was a family friend of the Watt family. He did not say anything, only gave me a subtle nod, although it did not change the look on his face. After the burn of the first shot fizzled out, a glass of Jack and Coke slid toward me.

“For you, Ms. Sistine.” Sam smiled at me.

I did not drink often, but it felt like a night for it. I needed something to smooth the rough edges out. My eyes hooked on the dancers, and my feet started to tap to the beat.

Willa laughed next to me. She and Atta’s friends from Nashville were already flirting and having fun.

If Willa’s theme song was an upbeat tune, mine was one of those weepy ballads where the woman lost the greatest love of her life, and she pined for him by smoking, although she did not have the habit, and going home and letting her dog fill the emptiness.

I did not do any of those things, but…the melody was the same. I was, perhaps, boring enough to lose the greatest love of my life, because even he had an exciting past.

The Casanova Prince.

I caught Atta by the arm before she made it to the stage. She looked at my face and grinned. “Easy on those Jack and Cokes, Sis. I see it in your beautiful eyes already. The dance floor isn’t ready for you.” And neither is your husband , I thought she added in a whisper.

“I am boring,” I said.

“You’re hot?” She leaned in and still shouted.

“No, I am bor ing.”

Her eyes searched mine. “You are not! Who told you that? Willa?” She went to charge toward Willa, but I grabbed her arm.

“No one told me that. I just figured it out.”

“You’re already drunk, Sis. That’s the whiskey talking.

” She pulled me in for a hug. “You know I wouldn’t feed you bullshit.

I’m not that kind of friend. If something doesn’t look good, I say, Try something else .

You’re too good for those clothes. There are enough clothes out there, you know? Why settle?”

I looked down at my outfit.