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Sistine

I might as well have been a prisoner. The Bridge of Sighs, Ponte dei Sospiri , came to mind. Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening when it fell, had me sighing.

Being kept inside for the duration with my family felt like torture.

Before, the monotony was broken up by my work.

Interacting with the outside world while also getting lost in the art of designing and creating jewelry for the Fausti family had kept me sane.

Those times were punctuated by my visits to Wyoming.

My father giving me a “vacation” while also keeping his thumb on me.

However, being kept inside, sequestered between these walls, without my husband…hell.

I kept reminding myself there was no other way. Time would pass, and we would be together again.

Honeymoon.

Luna di miele.

Only, it seemed as if time was out to haunt me. The hands on the clocks felt as if they barely moved. Each second felt like an eternity.

Even when I was working.

My father demanded that I work, but instead of allowing me outside of the palazzo, he brought my work home to me.

He would speak to the client and take meticulous notes.

If I had a question, he would relay it. I would design and complete the piece at the palazzo, since we had a room with all the equipment we used at the store, and he would take it back to the store, or have the men deliver it to wherever the piece was headed.

My father was almost…beatific about it all. I was stuck under his thumb, working almost nonstop.

Remo kept close to me. Wherever I went, except for the bathroom and in the bedroom after he checked the spaces, he went. My father did not like it, but it had been agreed upon, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Although I was keeping busy, I was awfully tired. I slept in late most of the time, and when I could find it in myself to get out of bed, I could not wait to get back in it. A few times Remo saw me to my room because I would start to doze at my desk.

It was the most blissful sleep. The only way I could describe it was…sleeping on a cloud. I wondered if heaven felt this way. Sign me up, if so. This was how amazing it was. It was sleeping on cool, fresh sheets, and the weather outside was warm and breezy.

Before Mariano, I always slept with clothes on, but after, they were nothing but a hindrance between his body and mine. He seemed to hate them. His reaction to them was almost addicting. I wore them only to feel him rip them away.

Almost as if they were an evil thing trying to keep me from him.

The thought made me grin and rub my bare legs against the sheets.

My arms were chilled from being out, and I hunkered underneath the blankets, though I was enjoying the contrast between temperatures.

It was winter, and though Venice winters were usually mild, I started to leave the doors cracked to the balcony.

I was warm without them being open. I felt as if a fire had started in the pit of my stomach, and internally, I was warmer than the temperature outside.

It was bliss…pure bliss, and after I thought of my husband, I fell back asleep.

I was not sure how long I was asleep, but the sound of rain manically tapping against the windows woke me.

No.

What had startled me awake was my mamma. She stood over me, her eyes narrowed.

“You will take her from me!” she whispered, but it was not kind. She grabbed me by the shoulders, pulled me up, and started to shake me.

“I did not take anyone from you.” My voice was bumpy as she shook me. “I will not take anyone from you.”

“You almost killed her!” She stopped shaking me, staring into my eyes, hers almost glassy with panic.

I glanced at the balcony door. The rain was blowing inside with the wind, and the door was creaking, moving back and forth.

My mouth was dry. My heart was pounding. The sheet had fallen, and my breasts were exposed to the cold air, my nipples as hard as pebbles. I hurriedly covered myself with one hand, attempting to keep myself shielded.

“Answer me!” she almost hissed.

I shivered from the sound of it. It brought me back to the barn floor. I licked my parched lips. “Ah, I did not almost kill anyone,” I whispered.

“You did! You almost killed her. You shoved her down the stairs when she was just a baby!”

Mamma’s voice was frantic, and her eyes were wide, dilated. Usually, the woman who tended to her when she got this way was close, but it was only the two of us.

“You have terrible tantrums!” she yelled at me. “Do not even deny it!” She slapped me so hard across the face, I almost fell backwards on the bed. “Now this situation with your father! Why can you not play along? Why the trouble?”

She shoved me over, slapped my culo so hard, my entire body went forward, and then she started fighting when Remo rushed into the room, fixing his pants as he did, wrapping his arms around her. She was kicking, screaming, going on about how she tried to kill her!

Her attendant joined Remo, and together, they hauled mamma off to her and my father’s area of the palazzo—however, her panicked voice echoed. She was screaming about the storm.

“We are all going to die!”

I was in too much shock to cover myself with the blanket as I usually did. I would hide underneath it until her voice would fade. It was not until I was old enough that I realized her attendant would give her a shot to put her to sleep.

Mamma’s words echoed inside of my head.

You shoved her down the stairs when she was just a baby!

Who was she talking about?

I did not have any younger siblings that I knew of. Capri was older than me.

Bile rose up in my throat. Did…did Capri try to kill me when I was a baby? I closed my eyes, trying to think back that far, but I came up blank. Perhaps I was…just starting to walk? Mamma mentioned the tantrums. Capri still had them.

That begged the question…

Did she think I was Capri?

Had she confused us? Perhaps she thought I had attempted to push Capri down the steps.

I was so lost in thought, when Remo entered my room, I jumped and brought the sheet up to cover myself. My hair did most of the covering, but I did not feel comfortable with him in the same room as me when I was naked. I knew Remo would not touch me without my consent, but if Mariano knew…

Remo cleared his throat. “You did not answer the knock.”

I nodded. “I am just in shock. She has never hit me before.”

He left without a word, shutting the door quietly behind him, and I took the opportunity to dress.

First, I had to attend to bathroom business.

As I brushed my teeth, my eyes welled with tears.

My cheek was as fiery as a pepe piccante , and my ass was going to be as bruised as a dropped pomodoro .

I pulled my hair into a bun and dressed in a tight, long-sleeved black blouse, short black skirt, and black leggings.

Gold jewelry broke up the monochrome style, and so did the two diamond claims on my left and right hand, left fingers.

I added only a touch of makeup. Unless I heavily concealed it, the mark on my cheek was not going to fade anytime soon.

Standing over the sink, I took deep, deep breaths. My mind was still trying to register what had just happened, the physical smacks, the confusing words, while the rest of me swirled with an ache so acute, it almost brought me back to the bed.

It was a heavy, physical presence that refused to abate.

The word “missed” was a lie. I could not even claim I missed my husband. It was as if my heart was missing, and I could not function as a normal human being. I could not return to the life I once lived, not after Mariano Fausti became my life.

A strong knock came at the door, and after I sniffed and wiped my eyes, I opened it.

Remo stood on the other side, a tray in his hands. The sight of it, the kindness in the gesture, made me lose control. I covered my face and sobbed.

The tray fell to the floor and his arms were around me, walking me to the desk in my room, setting me down on the chair, letting me purge all the feelings swirling inside of me, threatening to commandeer the ship.

Me.

I was the ship.

He was a strong, silent presence, allowing me to cry it out.

The entire situation was so odd. I had never allowed the people inside of this palazzo to get to me this way. I was always so much stronger than my circumstances.

After…however long…I removed my hands from my face and met his eyes. “She has never hit me before,” I whispered.

Mamma had told me plenty of things over the years, the same as my father— leave Capri be! Even when Capri was the one always starting trouble with me. She had never touched me that way before, though, with such malice. For as far back as I could remember, she had never touched me at all.

He removed the pocket square from his suit, and I thought he was going to extend it to me. Our hands met halfway, but he continued toward my face. He dabbed my tears gently.

“You did not deserve that,” he whispered, then he allowed me to take the square from him and wipe my own face.

To be honest, I was in shock at his gesture of kindness. The same amount of shock at what had happened with mamma.

“ Grazie ,” was all I could think to say, but it almost sounded as if it were a question.

Remo nodded toward the door. “I will get you another tray, Sistine.”

What had just happened? I was not sure, but I did not know if I liked it.

It made me feel anxious. I had never felt that way with Remo before.

We talked quite a bit, because we had nothing else to do, and we even began a chess game out on the balcony.

This. That moment when he tended to me when I was crying.

I felt a shift in him. A protectiveness that felt almost… territorial.

He was my chaperone. My husband’s cousin, no matter how far down the line, and one of his men. I was also starting to consider him a cousin as well. Nothing more.