Chapter 17
His head slowly turns to me, but his eyes are still back on Bruno. Only when he’s facing me, his eyes flash into mine. A shock snaps through me, stiff and hard, like a metal rod. A lurch, like the moment when a big plane’s wheels leave the ground. Or the rollercoaster dip when you go over the hump in a bridge.
Bruno’s voice follows him out. “That’s why I say keep her here. We decide. Nobody else.”
But neither of us are listening. His eyes are the palest blue. And luminous. A deep, narrow scar runs from his high forehead, down the chiseled side of his face. When I finally see Carlo in the flesh, the razor spark in his eyes knocks my breath out of me.
I feel like I’ve been poleaxed. Hit by a sledgehammer bolt of lightning. It seems to flash in his eyes, too. Maybe that’s my imagination, but I’m pretty sure I registered a tremor on the Richter scale.
I’m turning, keeping my eyes on Carlo.
He’s young, but with world-weary eyes. The cleft in his chin could have been a sculptor’s masterpiece to set off the sharp cliffs of his cheekbones and the dimples in his cheeks.
He stops as I move into the room. I barely notice the large, opulent library as I step into the space between the three men. Like I’m pulled by magnets, trapped between the invisible forces.
All three men look at me, and I’m somewhere between weight and weightlessness. In their pictures, these three are all as hot as hell. And their pictures do them no justice at all. But what strikes me is what’s not there.
Seeing them together, between the three of them I don’t see any traits or features in common.
Not in the noses, the lips or the eyes, nothing in their faces or their build would give their relationship away. The two youngest may share some mannerisms, something in their posture, but I could just as likely be imagining it.
Pulling myself back, I blurt, “I’ll decide where I’m going to go.”
“Aww. Ain’t that sweet? Yes, little darling.” Alessio reaches out to tweak my cheek, and my eyes sting. I really want to slap his hand away. He’s taken too many liberties already.
Like he senses my anger, his hand draws back. “That’s right. You stamp your pretty foot and tell all the nasty men what you’d like. We’ll see about getting you a Popsicle.”
Alessio is the big stick here. I step straight to him. Miraculously, my voice is steady and clear. “Take me. I’m coming with you.”
“Oh!” Bruno laughs and his head shakes. “She’s got balls.”
Alessio holds my gaze with his mocking look. “You don’t even know what the occasion is. You have no idea what the thing tonight is even for.”
“You probably don’t either.” I tell him, “I don’t care what the event is, any more than you do. It could be a charity for schools or sports, an endowment for the opera, or it could be the grand opening of a shiny new club with craps tables and a titty-bar in the back rooms. What difference would it make to you?”
“That’s it.” Carlo is pulling away, holding up a hand. “She’s definitely going with you, Alessio.”
“You want me to break the little bronco in for you, young bro?”
A snap of tension cracks between the oldest brother and the youngest.
“Do what you want.” Carlo waves a hand as he turns to go. He calls back over his shoulder, “It’s what you always do.”
So. There’s the man I’m supposed to marry, walking away. Was that our first quarrel? And we didn’t even speak to each other directly. I feel an empty ache like something has been torn from me.
He’s leaving angry, and I don’t think we exchanged two actual words. But it’s the eye-contact I still feel aftershocks from.
His ass is something to behold, too.
Another door opens behind me and the two brothers freeze on the spot.