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I still couldn’t get the look on Mamma’s face off my mind.

When her face turned to stone that way, that meant her intuition was speaking to her, and she was trying to figure out what it was saying.

It could’ve had something to do with my brother and his wife.

Marciano had told me they were dealing with a health issue Stella might or might not have, and Matteo was losing his shit.

My eyes cut to my wife, who, after I stepped out of the SUV and opened her door, went straight to the dogs. She was petting them, making soft and excited noises at them, throwing Zeus the ball he’d brought her.

“You are just fluff balls!” she said to them, patting Apollo’s head when he rested his against her thigh. “Your dogs are so nice.” It was the first time it seemed like she’d spoken to me in forever.

Fucking, literally, forever.

Our chaperone was Dandolo, and my wife was taking advantage of the space he seemed to set between us. I was surprised he’d taken no issue with her sitting next to me in the car. Except I knew why, besides him being wary of me. He still had a mark on his throat.

Dr. Musa.

She had him wrapped up in her spell.

Or caught in her hair.

He couldn’t look past it. Had to be a fetish.

Then it hit me.

I was in the same predicament as Dandolo. Except the woman was my wife. I had a Sistine Fausti fucking fetish.

“ Our dogs,” I grumbled.

My wife’s eyes met mine and she blinked at me, then turned away.

It was like our time in Wyoming had disappeared.

My wife wasn’t my wife.

My fists tightened and released. Tightened and released.

Mamma ran out and took Sistine in her arms, hugging her tightly.

She rubbed her back and told her how good it was to have her home.

Papà nodded at Sistine, rubbing Mamma’s back.

I set my hand on my wife’s lower back, and even though she didn’t move out of my embrace, I felt the distance between us.

It was like my wife had set a cold wall between her body and mine, and she was warm and fucking toasty on her side.

She was pregnant.

The truth of it hit me square in the chest, and for a second, I felt like I was fucking glowing too.

Outside of medical questions, though, we hadn’t discussed it.

I was back to fucking cold.

I showed my wife into her new home, and after Mamma got her settled at the table, feeding her, I went outside and grabbed her bags.

She didn’t have much. The rest of her things would be sent from Venice.

Her father said he was going to personally take care of it himself.

I told him if the other Cappello daughter ripped one fiber from my wife’s things, the wrong Capella daughter’s things would be set on fire. Their entire palazzo would be.

I’d be the one holding the gas can and match—the somewhat sane daughter’s husband.

My wife was feisty—no fucking doubt.

A grin came to my face at that, then I looked down at her small rolling suitcase, and my heart broke for some fucking reason. Like my wife having a small suitcase was somehow linked to her happiness.

My fists tightened and released. Tightened and released.

It was like I was the one knocked up and on an emotional roller coaster.

“Fuck me sideways.” I sighed, rubbing the spot over my heart.

My old man roared with laughter. My eyes snapped to his, and I blinked at him. He shook his head, squeezing my shoulder. “You got the love lumps, son.”

“The fucking lumps and bruises,” I said.

He started laughing so hard, the sound of it became raspy. “You know you fucking got it bad when you start talking to yourself,” he said and kept laughing.

Apparently, my misery was his humor.

“What’s so funny?” My sister walked up, Rio right behind her. My sister always smiled when our old man would either smile or laugh. The women thought it was just…a melting fucking experience. They would sigh and smile.

I shook my head. My old man might not have had a way with feelings, or expressing them, but he was smart when it came to the women of the family. He had them just where he wanted them, eating out of the palm of his massive hand.

“Me,” I said, taking Graziana Margherita from my sister.

Graziana was the newest addition to our family, my sister and Rio’s third child.

They had two sons, who my old man swooped up when they went running for the dogs.

He had each one upside down, making them crack up.

Brando and Vittorio, twins named after my old man and Rio’s old man, who everyone called Mac.

My sister gave me a big hug. “It’s so good to see you have the lumps.” She smiled at me.

Rio started laughing, throwing the ball to Zeus. “We’re all there. It doesn’t fade.” He winked at my sister.

She exploded with laughter. “I’m hungry!

I smell Mamma’s famous lemon chicken soup.

That’ll do Sistine good! Ohhhh…” She scented the air.

“That smells like steaks too! Mamma probably made those for the men.” My sister made a growling noise, like she was speaking for the men, and Rio looked at her like he fell in love for the umpteenth time in his life.

At least I wasn’t fucking alone.

“How’s Matteo?” I asked my sister as my old man and Rio went in ahead of us.

“You want me to take her?” My sister held out her arms for my niece.

“No,” I said at the same time Graziana turned her face away. My niece liked to poke me in the eyeball and stick her chubby little digits in my mouth. She liked when I pretended to eat them.

My sister stopped and stuck her hands on her hips. She razzed at my niece. “You little traitor! I carried you for nine months, and this is the thanks I get?”

Graziana cracked up. A real belly laugh that made me grin. I gave her fat smooches on her cheeks, and she laughed even harder.

“At least let me roll the suitcase,” she said, trying to take it from me.

I moved it out of her reach. “You insult my strength. I can handle this beautiful bambina and my wife’s measly suitcase.”

Mia grinned. “I’m sure you’ll rectify that situation soon—the measly suitcase.” She sighed. “He’s not good, Mariano. Quite frankly, he’s going insane.”

She stopped, as did I, right before we made it to the door.

“Different circumstances, but…he looks a lot like you. Are you doing okay, all things considered? What’s going to happen after this?

Will Signor Dandolo take Sistine back to Venice until the day fate connects you two, formally?

” She smiled, almost apologetic. “I’m not sure how else to describe it. Is there an official term?”

I let go of the suitcase handle and took her by the arm. “You felt something.” My eyes searched hers, my heart racing, my muscles tightening.

She shook her head. “I haven’t, Mari. I swear it. Not about Sistine,” she said, and I refused to ask her about Stella.

One , it seemed too personal, and two , I didn’t want to know if something bad was going to happen to her—also my brother.

My brother loved Stella like I loved—for lack of a better word—my wife.

We all might have our own shit going on, since we were Fausti sons, but our parents had raised us to be close, especially out of Italy.

A part of me would die if a part of my brother did. The same went for any of my siblings.

“The situation with Sistine?” my sister reminded me, changing the subject.

I sighed. “I’m taking one of the groom’s places.” I opened the door for her. “My wife will stay in our room.”

My sister grinned. “Good.”

“Goo—” I started to say, but my sister was already hightailing it inside, going for the stove before I could finish my thought. Fucking “good”? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I sighed again and looked at Graziana. “You have Zio Mariano’s back.”

I expected her to kiss my forehead, then set hers against mine. She did that sometimes when she thought someone was sad. Instead, my niece gave me a wide grin, then started cracking up. I shook my head. That reaction about summed up my fucking situation.

The kitchen was filled, and it became even more crowded when Marciano and Maestro turned up. Oscar and Nino too.

Mamma was at the stove with Sistine. They were cooking steaks. Sistine wiped her hands on her apron, then turned to grab a plate—she had a thick, juicy steak hanging from a fork, the juices dripping on the floor. She did a double take at me holding my niece, then froze.

The steak fell.

“Ah!” she said, going for it. “I dropped it!” She sounded truly horrified.

I gave Graziana a kiss on the cheek, then handed her to my sister. Graziana was mad. She started to cry for me. Sistine looked at her, then looked at me as I lowered to the ground, stopping her from picking up the steak.

“I did not mean it,” she whispered.

“Annie,” I said.

She stilled, her eyes coming back to mine.

I lost my fucking breath.

The colors.

All my colors.

They sucked me into the kaleidoscope of her hazel eyes, and I got lost in my heaven.

“This is an Italian farm,” I said, breathless. “Nothing goes to waste. Not even dropped meat.” I whistled as I picked up the meat with one hand and helped my wife up with the other.

Apollo and Zeus came rushing into the kitchen. And after I tore the steak down the middle, I flung a piece to each of them.

Sistine nodded, turning away from me, washing her hands. She went to apologize to my mamma, but Mamma shook her head, laughing. “Take it from me,” she said, glancing at my old man. “I’ve dropped plenty over the years.”

Sistine seemed to relax, and after Mamma gave her more to do, she seemed more content. But that shy shit, the way she was being with me, continued long after everyone had left our kitchen.

Dandolo was our chaperone, but he was constantly on the hunt for Dr. Musa. If he wasn’t asking for her, he was looking for her. My wife rarely let him out of her sight. She demanded that he be around every second.

“Rules, Signor Dandolo,” she constantly reminded him.

She constantly reminded me that I had a working farm, and after her first tour of it, she was on every aspect of managing it.

She even offered my “musical services” to Dandolo.

I was to teach him how to play the guitar and sing a true country song.

He was fascinated by this. Thought it was romantic.

I was wondering if the man had ever left Venice. Or if he was barking up the wrong fucking trashcan with Nino. Nino was quiet about the attention Dandolo was lavishing on his wife, but it was only a matter of time before Nino had enough. I warned Sistine not to encourage it.

She looked outraged. “I am not encouraging him to do anything but what he is supposed to do!”

“The guitar and music,” I said.

She looked confused for a second, then realized. “Ah, he wants to learn those things for Dr. Musa?”

“Yeah,” I said, “and I don’t want to have to save Dandolo from a trashcan somewhere—Nino is going to stick him in one.” And I refused to fucking lose the man who was supposed to be overseeing this Fate Day—Mia was right. I had no clue what to call it.

Sistine grinned, and that made my heart speed up. Then her eyes took on a serious look.

“Would you save him if I asked you to?” She lifted a finger.

“You wouldn’t even have to ask me to live or die for you—I do whatever my heart orders me to do. You are my heart.” I took her hand down, making sure she felt the callouses on my hand, and hit my heart with it.

She took one long look at me, my riding shirt hanging around my waist, my riding pants, my boots—dirtied up from a day of working on the farm—and turned away from me.

I stared at her, but she refused to look at me.

It was fucking grating on me, even though I had an idea of why she was doing it. I took her by the arms and walked her to the wall opposite the horses in the stable.

“Signor Dan—” she went to call out in that sing-songy, sweet voice she had. Unless she was pissed. Then her mouth became a gun, and she shot rapid-fire bullets.

I tick ed my mouth. “He’s practicing the guitar.

” My eyes bore into hers. “Here’s the fucking thing, my wife.

I know this quote-unquote ‘fate day’ means something to you, so I’m going along with it.

It’s romantic, which speaks to me too, but space from you is not going to confuse fate.

I was apart from you for fucking centuries, and I found you again.

Fate directed my steps back to you. When I first saw you, Fate whispered in my ear— she’s yours ,” I breathed out.

“Because here’s the deal. If there are lives before this one, I was with you in each one.

I’ll be with you in those after this one.

Personally, I believe in heaven, and you’ll be the reason I get in.

Your love. Your love will see me there. Because there’s no way you’re going anywhere without me. Understand me?” I said in Italian.

She took a deep breath, and I breathed in her cool release.

Apples and pears. She had been eating both.

I could still see a sticky spot on her chin from where the juice of—I leaned in and licked her from chin to lip—a pear had dripped from her mouth.

I went to do it again, and she sank her teeth into my bottom lip.

It wasn’t a bad bite, but it made me bleed, and I grinned. My cock was hard and pressed against her stomach. I set my mouth close to her ear and breathed out in heated Italian, “I am allowing this time, but come the day of the maze, my wife will return to me.”

Every day until then, I ticked my fingers in her direction.

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Time up.