Page 74

Sistine

B utterflies fluttered in my stomach as my family’s palazzo came into view in Venice. Although we were about to face my family’s wrath, I could not help but to be thankful for the place where I was born and raised, and how this area of Italia had set the scene for an epic love story to be told.

Ours.

It was romantic and ruthless.

If the book or play had a name, it would simply be…

Fausti.

The man next to me, wearing a custom-made suit while the Venetian sun played in his dark hair and in his light eyes, his skin tan from a summer full of heat and hard work, would always play the lead to my heroine.

I could not call him a hero or a villain.

He was Mariano Leone Fausti, my husband, and whatever that entailed was who he was to the world or to me.

My breath caught when he looked over at me and met my eyes.

He had given me a pair of sunglasses that had a tortoise finish, were oversized, and diamonds decked out the sides in an almost baroque pattern.

His were much simpler but gave him an aura of cool that upped his do not fuck with me vibe to an infinite degree.

We were riding in a private water taxi, the wind running its cool fingers through his hair and only tugging at the end of his long black jacket. The scent of him filled the space between us, and I kept breathing him in, thinking back to the first days of when we had met.

How ornery I had been with him.

How I could not help but to run after him when I had a feeling he might be in danger.

How we would spar over words—he would take my comment and make it about him.

“You love me, Annie. You know you do. You even said so yourself with the whole ‘love is not a game’ speech.”

“ What ? This is not what I meant!”

“You said it.”

I growled at him.

A grin came to my face, and he squeezed my hand. His eyes came to mine and then moved forward. He had been doing this the entire ride.

“What is it, Marito mio ?” I asked softly.

He sighed. “Love suits you.”

“Funny.” I tapped my chin. “I was just thinking the same about you.”

He sighed again, this time longer. “The conversation we had the night before we left our cabin, about my parents.”

I nodded. “How epic their love is.”

“Close,” he said. “I know what love, for lack of a better word, like theirs costs in a world like mine. In the world, period. Certain people in the world want what they don’t understand.

They treat love as they would a special power that selfish, hungry people crave for their own gain.

You’ve always glowed to me, Sistine. The first time I saw you, it was a religious experience for me.

Like the entire world was dark, and the sun shone only on you.

But it was mine. I know it’s not going to be that way once we step foot off this fucking boat.

The world is going to attempt to covet what’s mine . ”

“Because of my family?”

He turned to me, smoothing out the wrinkles between my eyebrows. “Nah, Annie, not because of your family. Because of you. Love suits you.”

“I do not understand, Mariano.”

He turned forward, leaning over his legs a little, staring at the gold and diamond band around my finger.

If our hands were not linked, which they were, we were always touching each other in some capacity.

It was as if we belonged to each other, and in belonging to each other, we had to make sure we were always close.

I hoped in whatever space we went on to after life, we would no longer be two but one.

Having his soul connected to mine for all eternity sounded like heaven to me.

He lifted our hands and then let them drop. “How do I fucking say this.” He paused. “Men want what is solely mine. You.”

If he had not been so serious, I would have laughed. His face took on a crabby appearance when he was pissed. He was pissed at the thought of other men wanting me.

“If you are referring to me as Aphrodite, then you are Adonis,” I said. “It does not matter what room we are in, where we are in the world, eyes always land on you and stick there. On mine. I hate it.”

He looked at me then. “You have nothing to fucking worry about.”

“Neither do you, and you still do not like it either.”

“Touché.” He waved a hand, dismissing my point.

“We’re getting off subject here. The thing is.

My parents were always fighting wars because men and women were always after what they share.

” He rolled his shoulders underneath his coat.

“The world’s going to covet my glow, my healing, and I fucking won’t allow it.

I’ll fight every battle and win—only because of you. ”

I sighed, holding his hand tighter. “Let us just worry about the one we are about to face,” I said, almost breathlessly. I nodded to my family’s palazzo along the canal.

Winter would soon be upon us, but it was a bright, clear day, the sun falling directly on the replica of the blood diamond that was set on the hand of the statue coming out of the canal, almost caressing the side of the Capella family home.

It seemed as if blood swirled on top of the water from the reflection of it.

Mariano stepped off the vessel first, giving me his hand and helping me out.

He pulled me close to him, eyeing me again.

My hair was slicked back into a bun. I had decided to go with an outfit that was more romantic than business, an ode to the situation we were in.

A blood red, strapless dress that clung to me as skin would.

A sheer bolero jacket covered my shoulders and had long sleeves.

The four-inch stiletto heels were a mixture of leopard print and gold.

Underneath the dress, I had worn gartered lingerie, complete with thong.

Mariano kept running his finger along the strip of fabric.

This set the both of us off, and…it was luck I had a second one in my suitcase.

He had popped the first. I wore the necklace Mariano had purchased for me from…

me. I never took it off. But the rest of my jewelry was gold, lined with rubies, and chunky.

I wore a thick red coat that landed at my ankles.

He pulled me in, sticking his nose in my neck, and breathed me in. “ Luna di miele ,” he whispered in my ear.

We kept reminding each other of this. Honeymoon.

Not the end game, but a place that was all ours for this time in our lives.

Mariano was going to take me to Fiji, where his parents owned an island.

I kept imagining the sun on my face, the soft, warm air and cool water, but above all those things, I kept fantasizing about my husband swimming naked, then standing, water sluicing down his body while he ran a hand through his wet hair…

“ Dio ,” I breathed out.

He chuckled against my neck, his breath fanning over it, and it did nothing to cool me off.

I held on to him tighter while he situated us to face the water.

Private taxis belonging to the Fausti family were beginning to arrive.

They reminded me of a fleet of ships coming ashore for war. Luca’s seemed to be in the lead.

“This is going to be…interesting,” I said.

“Fuck if that’s not the truth,” Mariano said.

Magpie and Scarlett did not usually show at these types of events, I did not think, but both women were next to their husbands.

Magpie was in a soft pink dress that accented all her curves and silver hair.

Scarlett wore a form-fitting black dress with a red rose print.

Magpie’s short hairstyle was voluminous around her head, but Scarlett had pulled hers back in a proper bun. Both women wore oversized coats.

Magpie reminded me of a screen siren from another time.

Scarlett reminded me of a ballerina from another time as well—a time that was far removed from the time we were in.

Perhaps the 1950s. Magpie was understated elegance.

Scarlett excluded grace. Both women were high style.

But where Magpie was warm and sensual, Scarlett had an heir of untouchability, though her husband touched her without issue.

Epic loves.

I sighed at the thought and set my hands over my husband’s arms. He had wrapped himself around me, and I never wanted him to let go. I was terrified of it. My worst fear—being in love this way—had morphed into…if I ever lost this love…

Him.

The thought made me soften and harden at the same time. Even if Mariano had created a vulnerable spot in my life, I was still a strong-willed woman who refused to allow her family to come between her and her heart.

“That’s my Annie,” Mariano whispered in my ear, then he kissed me on the temple before he turned me around to face the only home I had ever known until him, and the people inside of it.

He took me by the hand, and after we greeted his family, we started for the door. Atta snatched my wrist before we made it there. Angelo and Atta would be at this meeting as well. Atta had never set foot in the family palazzo in Venice.

As she had said before we left, she was “nervous as all get out!” Zia Bianca did not feel comfortable with her being inside its walls either. Zia Bianca was on the taxi with Atta and Angelo; however, she was not attending the meeting.

Ty was in Wyoming with Hannah. She could no longer run the ranch alone, and someone always needed to be with her.

“You said I looked okay before we left, but do I? Seriously. You have to tell me, Sistine!” She rarely called me by my full name. She was full-on panicking.

Angelo turned her to face him. “You are my wife. You are the most beautiful woman to me.”

He said these words in a manner that was meant to shield my cousin. To give her an armor in this world that nothing could penetrate. The women in our crowd all sighed. Mariano narrowed his eyes on his cousin before the narrow stare came back to me.

Brando Fausti had done the same thing, the look landing on his wife.