2. Win Some, Lose Some
Chapter 2
Win Some, Lose Some
H ow did it all go off the tracks so violently that there were no survivors left of the Fausti family who knew how to rule it? It seemed as if I were a ghost stuck on earth, staring at the wreckage, taking the tracks back to one defining moment in the history of the family.
Scarlett Poésy. She did not deserve the name Fausti to wear as if it were a queen’s robe to parade around in for fun.
With even the wind bowing at her feet, she snuck her tiny self inside the gates, spinning the family around, shaking up their minds.
I could not make sense of it otherwise.
Perhaps it began even before that, with that simple-minded child of a woman, Maggie Beautiful, as she called herself. She ruined Luca Fausti as Scarlett had ruined Brando Fausti.
A shriek tore through my head as lightning would. I could not tolerate a weak person! If my mouth could be turned into a deadly weapon, I would destroy each one of them with my truth. Just as I did that daughter of a whore. The voice in my head turned snarky at her name, Chloe De Bourbon. She was a carbon copy of every woman who did not belong in the family. Their kind should be outlawed !
I did not ruin my husband. I built him up to be the king of lions—of beasts—and he had flourished, had he not? Perhaps Brando had forfeited his right to rule, but that was only because his heart had softened after years of the ballerina dancing on it. He did not want a war with his brother, as was the usual Fausti custom when two brothers desired the crown. Perhaps Scarlett had talked him out of it, afraid of losing him. Rocco was formidable. Just as formidable as Brando Fausti, which was why Luca had wanted them both for the one role of king.
Both would not do. Rocco or no man. And despite the reasons he kept the crown, he would be king. That was all that mattered. Our marriage was not in vain. It had grown into a poisonous flower no one had ever heard of or seen before. One taste was death to our enemies’ greatest loves. Another taste, if the enemy dared, was a painful death no man could even imagine. There were times I wished death could go deeper. Hurt for longer. Happen more than once.
All deaths should start with the same reaction that daughter of a whore had to hazelnut. It was the panic at not being able to breathe that was so satisfying to watch. Two men could go after each other with swords and be brave until the bloody end. But poison his drink and watch as it suffocates him? It would be a delight to watch! I had decided anaphylaxis was my death of choice for enemies.
That was what I had grown with my husband—not roses or wildflowers or sunflowers, but something more deadly than oleander or nightshade. It smothered slowly.
And this was the thanks I got for attempting to weed out the ones who did not belong. A ride with Don ato to meet with my father-in-law after he “requested” a meeting with me. I was starting to wonder why I blamed the women. It should have been the men who were supposed to be the leaders of the great and powerful Fausti famiglia who should have been to blame for allowing softness to infiltrate the family as weeds would.
We had already taken a hit when Lothario took over and was a weak ruler—all that he did to secure the position was underhanded. Which in the eyes of the family was considered weak, even if not to the rest of the world, where being underhanded would be an asset. But in the Fausti family, it was considered weak because it was not truthful.
Neither here nor there.
I should rule the family. If I did, I would bring it back to where it should be.
Donato said nothing to me as he exited the car and opened my door. I did not have anything to say to him either. He was a puppet, and I did not speak to toys. Perhaps earlier in my life I had, but I did not waste my precious time on them anymore.
The all-great Luca requested the meeting at his castello in his walled city in Lucca. I would have attended the summons without the chauffeur and chaperone, but it was the point my father-in-law was making. You will be treated as any commoner. Luca Fausti might have been king, but my husband would be the future king. Only he could dethrone me. And he would not. We had claimed each other once upon a time, and neither of us could pull away—not fully.
Brando and Scarlett had a powerful love. Rocco and Rosaria had a powerful connection as well. It was not love, and we still survived.
I smoothed out my black dress, or power suit as I thought of it, and walked ahead of Donato, not bothering to wait for him to tell me when to move. I was ahead of him in all things—not just this life—and did not need the chaperoning. But he would open my doors and come at a lift of my eyebrows, if I wished it.
At the door, Donato slipped in front of me and opened it, though he only left it open for me. He did not allow me entry before him, which was not customary or respectful. Subtle messages that were loud to us were the ways of life for us. Therefore. I “accidentally” sent the point of my heel into his fine shoe as I breezed past him in the hallway .
He did not make a face or a noise, but he did not like this. Later, when he removed his shoe, his foot would bear my mark.
I grinned.
I internally grinned when that ridiculous-looking man, Nino, saw me coming and, scrunching up his face, turned on his heel and went the other way. He had been wounded in a war and did not want a battle with me.
The first war did not finish him off. The battle with me would.
“Ah,” Vincenzo said, stepping out of the dining room, his jet-black hair slicked back into a low bun that rested against the nape of his neck. As if he reflected my own roots, his hair was mixed with silver. “I should have known it was you who arrived. Instead of heralding angels, it is a woman who summons weeping widows from the past as a reminder that make the men scatter like rain.”
I set a hand to my heart. “You flatter me, Vincenzo.”
He grinned and disappeared into the massive castello .
Vincenzo was a finder in the family. He found enemies and destroyed them. Of course he would flatter me. I did the same thing. I sighed. But I needed to be able to make the rulings on when to charge and destroy. I was not allowed to do that. And being summoned told me I would be punished for attempting to kill the daughter of the whore with nuts.
Standing in the grand entry, I took in the space around me. The vaulted ceilings. The frescoes. The real gold fixtures. This castello was ancient and special to the family. My husband would have it when he ruled. Mentally, I imagined it the way I wanted it decorated. I had not touched a thing in the villa in Maranello. It was not truly a Fausti home but one that belonged to the Angeli family. It said nothing in terms of who we were. We did not want the Angeli family mark, but the Fausti one.
What better way than living in the home Luca Fausti had?
Feminine laughter from the dining room reached me before the two saps did. Scarlett and her mother-in-law. Margherita said nothing to me, and neither did Scarlett. Her son, Matteo, did not even bother to acknowledge me either. However, even though Scarlett did not greet me with words, her eyes on my leg said it all. In a German castle back in December, she had caught me coming on to her son. It was a split moment’s decision, but I did not regret it. If I had to lay a foundation for a war between my husband and his nephew, so be it. My son would rule. Not Matteo Fausti.
This hurt the little ballerina’s sensitive sensibilities, and she tripped me. I went down, cracking my knee on the step. She threatened to slice my throat if I ever tried anything like that again with any of her spawn. She was feisty when the need arose. I respected her for her cutthroat response, if not for anything else. It had caused an irreparable crack between us, and it would never be the same.
Fine with me.
I always thought of losses as a good thing. It weeded out the people who did not belong in my life. I did not agree with her way, and she did not agree with mine. The only time we would have to spend together was during the planning of my husband’s coronation—for the switching of power. Luca had decided to retire before the end of his life due to his wife having a health scare. He also wanted to be a part of his son’s ascension.
The time I would spend with Scarlett and the other women for the event would be it—end of story. We would be able to exist in the same room for the sake of the family, and after, we would be enemies again. Carmen, Dario’s wife, was going to just adore that my sister would be with me during the planning.
Who was going to stop me from bringing her along?
I almost laughed at that.
“It is pleasant to see you with a smile on your face, Rosaria,” my father-in-law said, almost startling me. I did not expect him, but there he was.
If he only knew what I was thinking, he would not be so pleased.
Perhaps he did.
The genial comment was the opposite of the set of his face—firm. Except when he looked at the two women who seemed to be headed outside for a walk, his face adjusted to accommodate the pleasure he took in them. He embraced them both before he turned back to me and nodded to the stairs. This meeting was going to take place in his office, a place most women were not summoned to.
On purpose, he climbed the stairs before me.
In that subtle language, he was saying to me, You have disgraced my family. You wanted to be treated as a man would. You will be. A man from the outside of this family.
I had to be careful with my husband’s father. He was not numb as my husband was to life, but almost too sensitive to it after his wife had the health scare. Luca Fausti was still the most feared and respected man in the world, but what the outside world knew and what his inner circle knew were different. He had a weak spot for the woman.
Whereas my husband only grew harder with me at his side. Exactly what the family needed. A woman with a backbone.
In his office, he fixed his suit, then sat. I fixed my dress before I took the offered seat. He had to sit first. If I was going to be treated as a man, I must behave according to their rules. If he thought this was going to sting me, he was sorely mistaken. Perhaps I would be taken more seriously if I was a man. Perhaps if I whispered in his ear in that deep voice the Fausti men were known for, he would open his mind and listen to me.
This family has gone soft.
Do something about it, King of Beasts.
We stared at each other.
“I have ruled that Massimo will not rule this family. Matteo will after my son. This is my word, and I will not be challenged on it.”
I took a deep breath. “Of course,” I said as respectfully as I could. “However, family law states that any of my sons could challenge Matteo for the birthright, if they so choose to.”
“I am king,” he said. “I can overrule the rule and make it law by my last decree.”
He was pulling out the big guns on this one. A king’s last decree was final. No one could challenge it. I did not like it. It meant that my husband’s sons had no chance in ruling if he did so. I caught the use of the word “can” and knew he had not done it yet. There was still hope.
“Whatever you wish, father,” I said, playing into his power trip.
“I once called you daughter of the heart,” he said.
“An honor,” I said, sitting up taller.
A beat of a connection between our eyes held, then he nodded. “You are not allowed to step foot on any property, anywhere, unless it is the family home in Maranello. Beyond that, you will request permission from me. Donato will handle all the requests. Your time with my family will be limited. If you do not abide by my rules, you will personally challenge me.” He stared at me until I almost squirmed in my seat. His eyes were stones being leveled at putty. But the one thing putty had over stone was that putty could be manipulated. It could absorb the blow.
Stone cracked.
Whenever his family erected a stone statue in his honor, as they were known to do for their kings, I would be sure to make as many cracks in it as possible as retribution. Not only had this man looked over me for Scarlett Fausti, giving her special gifts and treatment, but he had also done the same to my husband. He never truly saw Rocco for his worth. Brando Fausti was the prodigal son who never truly felt sorry for forsaking the family name but was treated as a king despite it all.
Finally, Luca stood, releasing me with a curt nod toward the door. I got to my heels right after, fixing my dress, and when I went for the door, he said, “You shame my son, you shame me. Remember this, Rosaria Caffi, ah?”
The son that was created out of obligation. The son who was a sacrifice to the family.
That son.
My husband.
Rocco had issues because of the love I could not give him. He also had issues because of the man who did not want his family offering, his son, to be shamed by me.
I would have told Luca all of this, but I am a smart woman. I recognize that a silent woman is worse than a screaming one. Therefore, I decided I valued my tongue and wanted to keep it in my mouth.
You win some and you lose some, ah?