Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Mario guffaws. “How could I forget? Mama never went to the quarry. Not sure why she was even there that day.”
Salvatore puts his wineglass down, picks up his knife and fork, and cuts a thin slice of steak. “Did you frequent the quarry?” he asks. “Seems a dangerous place for kids to go to hang out.”
“That’s maybe why we loved it,” I say dryly.
“Did your father know?” His question falls heavily. The table lapses into silence. My heart beats faster, and I suddenly lose my appetite. I’m not sure what’s happening here.
“He did,” Romeo says, picking up his glass and holding it out to Salvatore. “May I have a refill?”
“Of course, brother,” Salvatore says, but instead of reaching for the bottle, he nods his head at one of the staff. “Fill Mr. Rossi’s glass, please.”
Mr. Rossi.
It’s the first time I’ve heard him address Romeo that way. Dread prickles my skin. I place my fork down as Salvatore gets to his feet.
“Salvatore,” I say gently, trying to get his attention.
He looks my way and shakes his head. “Stay,” he says, his voice low with authority. “Visit with your family.” He turns and faces the rest. “Please excuse me, I have a quick matter to attend to. I’ll join you all when the rest of the guests arrive this evening. My staff will show you to your rooms.”
Without sparing me another look, he turns and stalks out of the room.
What just happened?
I open my mouth to ask, but Romeo catches my eye and gives me a quick shake of his head. He’s right. We won’t speak freely here if there are surveillance cameras and staff eavesdropping in every corner.
“So tell me,” Rosa says, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You pregnant yet?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Salvatore
Maybe they're curious why I left so abruptly. I can’t share my reasoning.
I berate myself halfway back to our bedroom because I know I made a mistake in letting myself have feelings for her at all.
The quarry. The fucking quarry. How could I have been so stupid?
My father was killed when I was in kindergarten. I remember coming home from school with my bodyguards, my Spiderman backpack swinging merrily. I remember the line of sleek cars by the front door. I remember my mother’s fury and anger and that she never shed a tear. I remember I had to wear a suit that I hated to the funeral, and it was my first introduction to the responsibilities ahead of me.
I knew that my father was in New England, but I didn't know where. At the time, it might as well have been China, it was that far away.
No one was ever found to be guilty of his death. We never sought vengeance, and if I’m honest… I’m not sure I want to now.
I know what the laws of mob rule state. I know that I am responsible for avenging my father's death. But what if the person responsible for killing him is no longer here?
I have questions that need answers.
So I leave Marialena to her siblings. I hear their laughter and their jokes, and I’m glad for her that she has their companionship. But I’m also glad that I’ve severed the ties between her and them because the choices before me will be made that much easier.
She has mentioned her father. She’s mentioned how he abused them, and of course it was no surprise to me because men like him treat anyone other than their peers as nothing but servants or lackeys. Beneath them. I know this well.
But I never asked her more about him. His history. His nicknames. His trademark moves… all facts that would’ve clued me in so much sooner.
I pace in our bedroom and look at the time on the clock. We only have two hours before the rest of our guests arrive.
I have questions for Cristiano, but I don’t want to put a bug in his ear either. I need to have answers, though. I think about who is older than I am in my group, who would know the answers to my questions. My mother… No.
I call Federico. He answers on the first ring.
“Boss?”
“I need you to find the date of my father’s death. Give me everything you’ve got.”
“Yes, sir. It’s in our records, won’t take long. Will call you right back.”
The seconds seem to pass by like the ticking of a time bomb. I pace with my hands in my pockets. What will this mean? If he corroborates what I suspect…
Finally, he calls me back.
“September, twenty-five years ago. We don’t have the exact date because his body wasn’t found until weeks later, remember? But there were witnesses that saw him at a nearby quarry.”
A cold chill skates down my spine.
“Right.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. Marialena probably would’ve been a toddler at most, three maybe. But Romeo… Romeo would’ve been a teenager. Romeo would’ve known things.