Page 77

Signor Dandolo cleared his throat. “With that matter settled…” He pulled forth another paper, and the feather on his pen wavered with a cool breeze coming in from the window. “Who were the witnesses at the wedding? Did it take place in Italy? Or someplace else?”

Angelo stood from his seat, taking Atta up with him.

“My wife and I were witnesses to the marriage,” Angelo announced proudly.

Marciano seemed resigned. He had known this. Mia, Matteo, and Maestro seemed stung by the news.

“Coup!” My father came close to shouting. “I am sure his siblings were there. My daughter might have been forced into the marriage.”

“I was not!”

“Were there any more witness to the marriage?” Signor Dandolo asked Mariano.

Mariano looked at Marciano when he answered. “No.”

Signor Dandolo sighed. “This is good. This proves the marriage was not forced. More witnesses could have changed the course of this meeting—and not for the good of all involved.”

“It was not forced,” I said, but no one seemed to acknowledge me, except for my husband, who squeezed my hand.

“The wedding took place?” Signor Dandolo asked Angelo.

Angelo gave him all the details, and then he held out Atta’s seat for her.

“This law does not extend to America,” Signor Dandolo stated. “However, love is love, and it does not matter what soil it stands on, if it stands. Presumably, you both were standing when the vows were taken?”

“Yes.” I grinned a little.

Signor Dandolo gave me a quick grin in return.

Perhaps he did not want to be dismissed from this matter on grounds that he was being human to me, and then, of course, looked at Mariano for confirmation.

Perhaps because he was a man? Or because this man knew Mariano could not, would not, lie?

I would lie to save Mariano, and this entire table knew it.

Mariano only nodded.

“What is the Capella family asking for, as far as justice?” Signor Dandolo asked my grandfather and father.

My grandfather was the one who answered. “We want the blood diamond.”

This was where things were going to get dicey.

“My wife will wear the blood diamond,” Mariano said cooly.

My eyes shot to his, but he was looking at my grandfather. All of the men’s eyes were on my grandfather, since he held the floor, so to speak.

“ If fate permits,” my grandfather said.

“ When ,” Mariano corrected.

“You are so bold to challenge fate, Mariano Fausti?” my grandfather asked.

“I am not challenging fate,” Mariano said in Italian. “Fate spoke to me. Told me the woman sitting beside me is mine. Adone Capella. Flavio Capella. These are the only men in this room who challenge fate.”

“Hearing voices?” my father asked, laughing at his own stupid joke.

“Yes.” Mariano grinned at him, but there was nothing warm or jovial about it. It was the kind of grin that came before the slaughter. “The kind of voice that speaks the truth of love. Not the one cold enough to sabotage the woman I vowed my life to.”

Signor Dandolo cleared his throat, extra loudly this time. “We have come to an agreement then. What is at stake here is not only the union, but the priceless blood diamond, do we all agree?”

Mariano’s eyes went to Luca’s.

Nonno nodded instantly, and Mariano seemed to sit up taller, an appreciation in his eyes I had never seen for his grandfather before. Essentially, Luca was putting up a priceless Fausti artifact, a priceless artifact in general, as a stake for our love.

My grandfather agreed, but Signor Dandolo’s eyes went to my father. My grandfather set a hand on my father’s shoulder. Minutes ticked by. Finally, he nodded.

“However, the law will continue, even if Mariano Fausti finds my daughter in the maze,” my father said. “Look how much trouble this situation is causing the two families. This is not a way to conduct business .”

“Business,” Nonno Luca repeated, and I could tell he did not appreciate the tone of my father’s voice, or what the one word implied about the relationship between the two families.

It had been a relationship built on romance, and my father was implying that part of it had been stripped away, and it was all about business transactions—essentially, he was painting my family as a whore because of my falling in love.

If that was the truth, the Fausti family was conducting business in bed with them.

My grandfather eyed my father. “We did not speak of this, Flavio.”

“It is for the best,” my father snapped at him.

“What if a man of Fausti blood wants to marry Capri?” my grandfather asked.

“We have talked about this. She can marry into the family. We have the right to give that permission.”

Ah. So none of this would be happening if my name was Capri instead of Sistine.

My sister made her own rules, and my family followed them.

They were afraid of her. Afraid of how colossal her tantrums were.

The way my family operated was so odd. They made me feel as though they could not care less about me.

However, my father was willing to cause trouble for the family if it had to do with me marrying a Fausti.

I understood in that moment how hard the truth was.

My family made me feel worthless to keep me working, where I had a little worth. Capri knew she had all the worth, as far as their favor, but past that, she did not mean much when it came to the Fausti family.

This was not about the Fausti family at all.

It was about controlling me.

“We do not agree to this term,” Nonno Luca said. “The couple that earns the ring will set the rule free. This is customary. Traditional.”

“I agree,” my grandfather said, overruling my father. “If fate sets this couple free, it will free future generations.”

My father grumbled. He was just being petulant. My sister in a male form.

Signor Dandolo jotted down something. He even looked at the clock and recorded the time.

“All parties will sign this form,” he said.

“The information shared at this table will be recorded in our records. As always, our records are open to either family, if proof of either lineage is given at the time the documents are being requested. We have logged into our records every attempt for the blood diamond after the law was first put into effect. This spans generations.” He brought all the papers together, making one neat pile of them, before he spoke again.

“These are the standard terms to the agreement. There are not many.”

He began to go over them.

The palazzo where the maze was located would only be disclosed on the day of the challenge.

The maze would be heavily guarded with men that Signor Dandolo chose.

He said these were men who still had a romantic interest in the situation that brought the two families close but also kept them separated.

He gave the time. The date.

This, Signor Dandolo said, was the date the original couple had parted ways. He reiterated that it would take a new couple to change the law of the family. When Mariano found me in the maze, it would change the course of history, as far as our two families went.

Mariano had forty-five minutes to find me in the maze.

It was standard practice that the “intended,” me , was to stay with her parents until the time of the maze. Her “intended,” Mariano , had to stay away from the intended.

“Wait,” I breathed toward Mariano, when I knew his voice was about to come out swift and sharp.

My eyes locked with my father’s. He knew this was going to be a point of contention. Mariano was going to fight for this not to happen, when this was a part of the terms that could not be changed.

The law stated that if Mariano did not find me in the maze, my family had the right to take me someplace and, as the wordage stated, hide me away from him forever.

Or death would come to him.

This was the stake.

My mind worked in tandem with my heart…fast.

If we did not allow this time apart, when Mariano found me in the maze, my family would never look upon our union as anything but a scandal.

It would take the power of fate for my father not to forever grumble about this entire situation.

I had no plans of staying close to my family.

I would have to be transferred to another store, or I refused to work at all for them.

Still. It was the point of it all for me.

I wanted to follow all the terms to a minuscule degree, because our love was true, and no one, least of all my family, most of all his family, could challenge it. It would never come up again. Could never come up again.

Capri would probably whisper about how unfair it all was, but she could never accuse us of conspiring before the day fate would have its say. If she did, she was the blatant liar.

I would be set free.

“We agree,” I said before Mariano could challenge the term.

Signor Dandolo nodded, jotting the information down, the meeting over.