Page 78

Sistine

I f fury could be restrained to one area of the body, it was contained to my husband’s eyes. He stared at me, his eyes hard and cold, when I agreed to the terms. Underneath the peridot color of his eyes, lava flowed.

Although the look he sent me made me want to flee as fast as I had ever run before, I held my ground with my chin held high.

Perhaps in the future, the issue would never come up again, about how we had turned down the terms, but if it did, I did not want to feel resentment whenever someone questioned the validity of our marriage.

Above my family, I refused to allow anyone in his family to ever be able to challenge him over our relationship. This was a thing for them.

In the grand scheme of life, it was a small amount of time to sacrifice for the peace of the rest of our lives.

Perhaps Mariano would understand. Perhaps he would not and would resent me. I did not think he would, but I was suddenly feeling unsure. I did not like the look in his eyes. It chilled me to my bones.

When he ripped his eyes away from mine in a smooth move, I felt the tear down to my soul. I did not know how to heal it. Not without sacrificing our future.

One word came from my husband’s mouth that almost left me staggering. “ Uscire .”

He told me to get out. To leave. What went unsaid was this: get out—leave—before I say fuck the terms and take you with me. This is what you want. Go.

My cheeks heated and I got to my feet, rushing out before cool tears ran for all to see. I had to force myself to leave. My heart was revolting in my chest, and I was not sure how I was going to get through this.

What other choice did we have?

I did not want Signor Dandolo to say there was no other way. I did not want my husband to find another way to end this. The Fausti family had archaic ways, such as sword fighting, and if Mariano thought he could go that route while keeping me close, he would.

My heart could not take it.

This was only waiting. My heart would hurt— oh God , the stretching of it from me to him was almost unbearable—but this way, I was saving the panic I would have to endure if a sword fight or some other equally ruthless challenge was set at his feet.

The door shut behind me, and I was cut off from any noise at all.

My back slid down the wall, and I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.

The meeting was not, in fact, over. Before the door was shut, I heard Mariano order Signor Dandolo to sit back down. I assumed he was preparing the final forms for all to sign.

When ink touched paper, and signatures were added, locks, for me, at least, would click into place.

Although the palazzo was palatial, filled with riches and artifacts from our time with the Fausti family, it was as if I was going to have to do a stint in a stranger’s home. I had never felt so alone.

The door to the office opened. Five sets of heels surrounded me. Magpie, Scarlett, Mia, Atta, and Stella, Matteo’s movie-star wife. Scarlett gave me her hand and helped me to my feet. In her arms, I broke down. I cried while they brought me to the room that had been mine.

Nothing in this palazzo felt vaguely familiar any longer. It felt wrong. As if my life here no longer fit me.

My sister stepped in front of us, but Atta told her if she did not move, she was going to beat her ass. My sister laughed at her, a crazed laugh, but she moved. Once to the room where I would be staying, aka, my previous room, Mia shut the door behind her.

Scarlett held me tight, almost rocking me.

This was when more arms were added. The women in my life were surrounding me, hugging me, telling me it was all going to work out.

A great curiosity stirred inside of me to ask Scarlett if it would, but I did not ask her.

She was not responsible for my decisions and what would come of them.

When I felt as if I could not breathe, I pulled away some. I needed to feel the cool air on my face.

Atta opened the balcony doors to my room, allowing fresh air in. It did not seem to be helping. My air was in the office, not far, but far enough that I felt as if I could not breathe. The women kept taking turns fixing my hair, touching me, but it was Scarlett’s eyes that were felt the most.

“My son is not going to allow your family to hurt his heart,” she whispered in soft Italian. “He is discussing this with Signor Dandolo right now.”

The tears in my eyes bubbled over. I felt hot and trapped in my own skin. I removed the bolero jacket but only felt cold when I did. I wondered if anything was going to be the same in my life ever again—if Mariano Fausti was not in it, I knew it never would be.

All I could do was nod.

“Damn.” Magpie paced the room. “Is there anything we can do, Scarlett Gorgeous? Maybe that kind man, the one who had a lot to say, maybe he’ll allow us to take her? Mariano can stay at his place in Maremma.”

Scarlett shook her head. “Signor Dandolo has no stake in this except to aide fate. I felt it from him the moment he entered the room. Even if the law was created by human hands, he feels this is the only way. If he’d had other intentions, say his loyalties lay with the Capella family, and this was a way to take Sistine from Mariano, I would have said as much at the table.

However, there was something I felt from him that was kind of…

odd. He loves the idea of love and would not be against fighting for it himself. ”

That was…odd, and extremely specific, but since it did not seem to pertain to our situation, it was as if my mind waved the thought away.

“Shoot.” Magpie took a seat at the desk that had been mine. “This is so messed up.”

“What if Sistine just leaves on her own accord?” Atta asked, taking a seat next to me on the bed I would be using for the duration of my stay. “Go back to Wyoming, Sis. Who gives a shit about these people? That’s what mamma did.”

“It was different for Zia Bianca,” I whispered.

“You have something to prove,” Scarlett said. “Your father. Your mamma. Your sister.”

I lifted my pointer finger. “First and foremost, I know men in the Fausti family can challenge Mariano. I refuse to allow that to happen.” I sighed, making a so-so gesture with my hand.

“As far as my family…that is a simple way of putting it.

I do have something to prove, but it is not as simple as that.

There were two children who could take over the family business when Zia Bianca was here.

She could have. Or my father. My father was eager for her to leave.

“He will assume my grandfather’s position in December.

This is when my family switches power, just as the Fausti family usually does in November of the years in which this tradition is honored.

I am the only Capella child who can take over.

What I can do—design and create—is mine alone.

Although I owe my family no loyalty, I feel as if I owe myself this.

I would like to think over my place in the jewelry business before giving it up completely.

I love what I do. It has always gotten me through… hard times.”

Scarlett nodded at me, a faraway look in her eyes, as if she understood my struggle, although she did not explain how she did.

“I’ll stay.” Atta sat up. “I’ll stay with you, Sis.”

“No,” I said, adamant. “You have too much going on in your life. Your new husband. Your honeymoon. Your tour. Zia Bianca is already anxious knowing you are here. She hates this place. Not Italy. Being around her father and my father.”

“I see why,” Atta mumbled.

We all got quiet until there was a knock at the door.

Magpie and Atta jumped a bit, but Scarlett and Mia’s eyes were on the door a few seconds before the knock had come.

I sat up straighter, thinking it was Mariano coming to tell me goodbye—until we met at the maze.

It was not. It was Brando, Angelo, and Remo.

Nonno Luca was waiting at the front door for Magpie.

Brando cleared his throat, his eyes on mine. “Remo will be staying with you. He’s not allowed to have any contact with the outside world unless the situation calls for it. It’ll have to be fucking dire. Oscar’s his backup. He’ll be sequestered here too. Same rules apply.”

“If it is? Dire?” I asked.

“The clock will start again.” He cleared his throat.

“You won’t have any contact with the rest of the world, except for the people in this house, for the time up to the maze.

Given the fact that the Russian, the one Mariano calls Iggy, is still around, my son would not agree to leaving you alone with your father’s security. ”

“Also, my father might have killed his first wife to…silence her?”

Brando only nodded.

“There’s your sister too,” Scarlett added. “She reminds me of my own sister. Mariano notices it.”

Our eyes connected, and hers communicated to me, we will speak about this later .

Remo seemed to stand taller at the mention of my sister.

Over the Russians, my sister was the real threat.

Remo had witnessed how temperamental she could be.

I thought back to the night in the SUV when he had checked Willa.

She was nothing but a practice round compared to my sister.

I would have to end up protecting Remo from Capri .

He would have to guard his loins and the vulnerable spot over his heart during sleep.

“There will be more Fausti men around the property, but only on the outside,” Angelo added.

I nodded. Got to my feet. Hugged all the women goodbye. Gave the men nods and waves.

The faster we did this, the faster I could be back with all of them.

All that was left of them after the door shut downstairs was the scents of their perfumes and colognes, swirling with the breeze from the balcony, about to disappear with the dense fog of Venice.

I took a deep breath, somehow finding my husband in his father’s scent, and a sob stuck in my throat when I thought about him leaving me behind.

There is no other way …I kept repeating to myself as a mantra. February. Then. Honeymoon.

Still, my feet flew to the balcony as most of the private taxis started to pull away. Mariano was still on the pier, his back to me. I wanted to call for him. To scream for him. His name was the key and lock to this prison I suddenly found myself in.

My throat refused to work. Warm tears ran down my cheeks.

I was broken.

The only way to fix all these things?

The man standing on the dock.

I realized Mariano was waiting for me to change my mind, to scream for him, and he would come after me. He would fight lions for me. Not that my family was considered lions. They were more like hyenas.

Taking a shuddering breath, I looked away from him, my heart not able to watch him leave.

I cannot!

If I watched, I would sob, cry out loud enough for him to hear.

If he heard, damned what I had said at that table, he would come for me.

I turned my face, and after a slight breeze swept off the canal and disturbed the thick fog, my sister was uncloaked.

She was standing on her balcony, smirking at me.

Before, I would have stood my ground, my eyes and hers in a silent war.

I cannot.

I surrendered, leaving the balcony, shutting the doors behind me, flinging myself on the bed, sobbing into my pillow.

Perhaps it was a figment of my imagination, but a lion in the distance roared out in pain.