Chapter 29 #2
He cleared his throat, rolled up his sleeves. For him, that was unnerving. He seemed to want to reach for the whiskey but thought better of it.
“The witch, as Ermanno refers to her as, has made a bold claim.”
“And what is that?” I breathed out, the truth already making it to my mind, but like death, it hit harder than expected when it was confirmed.
“She is claiming we had relations last night.”
“She’s claiming you fucked her.”
He nodded, and after I held my things tighter to my chest so I wouldn’t drop anything, I turned and disappeared into the bathroom again.
I’d be at that meeting.
I demanded to come face to face with the woman who made such a bold claim.
I was coming to realize that clothes were not only a form of self-expression in the Fausti family, but a power move. I understood Luca’s law on it—we dressed for success, expecting it. Also, for respect.
For the meeting with the woman who made such a bold claim, I went with a black turtleneck, cream slacks, and matching pumps. I pinned my hair up, my curtain bangs doing their job—highlighting the shape of my face. I went light on the makeup. Heavy on the jewelry, but it didn’t overwhelm me.
Rocco slipped a long coat over my shoulders. I could see he was hesitant to touch me, at first, but after he read my body language, he offered me his arm, and we walked to a fast car Guido had pulled up to the front of Nel Cielo for him.
After helping me inside, my husband fixed his long coat and slid into the driver’s seat. He took my hand, but neither of us said anything on the drive to Luca’s walled city. I watched as the muted Italian landscape slipped by in a blur.
The world was frozen outside of the window.
Except inside of me, fires burned.
The baby that was ours.
And.
My temper.
Once we were past the armed guards at Luca’s palatial city, my husband took the direct route to his father’s castello. He didn’t hesitate as he parked the car, fixed his jacket and suit again, and then helped me out of the car.
Rocco might have been feeling one way, or a hundred, but all the world would get was a stone-cold facade. Somehow, I knew, though. The situation had unnerved him. It was in the way he looked at me—like he was already asking for forgiveness, something he never asked anyone else for before.
Even though I was keeping myself together, his reaction, through a non-reaction, was making all I was keeping inside shove against my self-control. I could hear the insanity inside of me banging to be set free, but I had to hear what this witch had to say first.
I squeezed my husband’s hand when Maggie Beautiful was waiting at the door to open it.
She hugged us both, and after an older lady who worked for them took our coats, Maggie Beautiful walked us to the office.
She’d never done that before, and she pulled me to her so hard before I entered the room, I gasped.
“Save your claws for the right time,” she whispered in my ear. “Don’t be like me, but be like me.” She squeezed my arms before she pulled away fully.
My husband set his hand on my lower back, ushering me into his father’s office.
It was exactly how I’d imagine the king of Italy’s office to look.
All dark furniture, leather seats, brass finishes, the scent of a man’s fine cologne, cigar smoke, and expensive cognac drifting in the air.
It was a place for business, family matters that were handled in a business setting, and probably for long conversations with men my father-in-law enjoyed having wars of words with.
My father-in-law not only enjoyed clashing swords but clashing intellects. He wasn’t a man for small talk. He enjoyed meaningful conversations, especially when the man or woman challenged him to think in terms he wouldn’t have on his own.
I wondered if today was going to challenge him enough.
The men in the room rose from their seats when I entered.
My father-in-law, Donato, Mac, Guido, and an older man I didn’t recognize, but who I assumed was the “witch’s” father.
I greeted my father-in-law first, then all the other men with nods.
All but the man who I assumed to be her father.
I didn’t like the way he was looking at my husband.
Once I took the seat my husband offered me, and he took his, straightening his tie as he did, my eyes met the she-devil’s.
If she thought she was going to scare me off with a narrowed-eyed glare, she could think again.
I returned the stare, one of my eyebrows lifting, as if to say, stand up, say something, make a move, I dare you.
Our eyes held even after her father cleared his throat and said respectfully, “This is one of the reasons we have come to you, Signor Fausti. We fear for our daughter’s life.
Not only have we heard about one daughter of the heart in the family having special…
ah, how do I say respectfully, powers, but this daughter of the heart having the same. We fear she might curse our name.”
My eyes whipped to the father’s, and I laughed. He sucked in a breath, and his wife grabbed Ita and pulled her close.
Luca cleared his throat. “I did not give you permission to speak. In this office, when you come to me with an issue, you will wait your turn to be spoken to.”
“I apologize, Signor Fausti.” Ita’s father hung his head in shame.
Ita’s mother said something to her in a language I was not familiar with.
Luca looked between them, then ordered Guido to ask his other daughter of the heart to join us.
Guido left the room, and when he returned with Scarlett, I understood why.
The mother and daughter had been speaking in Slovenian.
All the men rose from their seats again when Scarlett entered, the entire room suddenly smelling of roses.
Scarlett touched my shoulder, gave the girl a piercing look, and then took the seat Brando had offered her.
Brando’s wife didn’t go anywhere without him, like I didn’t go anywhere without Rocco, unless we absolutely had to.
Brando nodded to Rocco, and the meeting began again.
The mother pulled Ita closer, eyeing Scarlett with a mixture of scorn and fear, the same way she would sometimes eye me. Scarlett gave her a sly smile and said something to her in Slovenian.
Luca commenced the meeting again, reminding everyone why they were all in the same room. “An accusation that my son, Rocco Piero Fausti, had sexual relations with Ita Novak has come to me from her father, Nik Novak, and her mother, Irena.”
Nik Novak nodded.
“You may speak.” My father-in-law nodded at the man.
Nik Novak cleared his throat. “My daughter, Ita, has been too afraid to come forward until now, Signor Fausti. Signore Rocco Fausti has been taking advantage of my daughter. He is in a position of power. My daughter could not keep quiet any longer. She feels guilt eating her here.” He touched his heart.
“Now that she knows he is a married man and still after her.”
I laughed, laughed like I was crazed, and Rocco squeezed my hand. I waved a hand in front of my face, sighing. “Ridiculous,” I said in Italian. “All lies.”
Maybe if I would’ve been a man and spoken out of turn, my father-in-law would’ve had my tongue, since as a part of the family, I should’ve obeyed the rules.
But women in the family played by a different set of rules.
Also, I noticed a hint of respect in Luca’s eyes when I spoke in Italian. I was doing well with my lessons.
Luca looked at the girl. “Tell me now, are you lying, young lady.”
“Ask him.” Ita pointed to my husband.
“Point at my husband once more and you’ll pull back crooked fingers,” I said.
Nik Novak raised his hand.
Luca nodded to him.
“How can my daughter feel safe in the room to tell her tale when Signor Fausti’s wife is consistently making threats, Signor Fausti?”
“She is crazy!” Ita screeched, and this time when she did, an echo from the harvest celebration seemed to reverberate in my skull—there was no doubt in my mind it was her in the woods that night.
My father-in-law stared at Nik Novak until he wilted in his seat. Then his eyes turned on the girl. “What is your answer to my question.”
“It is the God’s honest truth, Signor Fausti!”
My father-in-law turned his penetrating stare on my husband. Without a word, my husband nodded. “In the past.”
“The past is not in question here,” my father-in-law said. He looked at the girl. “Repeat your claims.”
Ita wiped her eyes, even though no tears fell. “I rode with my father to help him with the firewood we were to bring to your home from the property in Piemonte. He also takes care of the firewood on this property, does he not, Signor Fausti?”
My father-in-law looked at her until she squirmed some, then her shoulders squared and she lifted her chin.
“Signore Rocco Fausti was upset about the articles written about him and his wife. I entered the room with the barrels, thinking we could find more firewood from the old barrels. Signore Rocco Fausti noticed me, as he always has, and he wanted me as badly as he wanted me before. Perhaps he was drunk and demanded that I warm his bed, after it seemed as if he and his wife were on the outs. I do not know. I only know the truth. My heart is telling me this is wrong now that he is in a real marriage.”
Rocco’s eyes slowly turned toward her, and she refused to look at him. She kept her face forward, her eyes straight on my father-in-law’s. I also noticed she refused to look at Scarlett when she spoke. I got the feeling she didn’t want Scarlett to feel her out.
“We had relations,” she continued. “We did not use protection.”
My hand squeezed Rocco’s. My other hand squeezed the arm of the chair.
If it hadn’t been made of solid wood, I felt mad enough to rip it off.
She was lying. I knew she was. I also knew in my gut that she had drugged my husband, and if she did…
even though he was out of it, his body could still rise to the occasion.