Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Dad sighs.
“If the Fabbris—if Dario—find out about Izzy—God, do you remember Alice?”
Dad grunts disapprovingly. “That was a shame, but she should’ve listened to her father just as you should’ve listened to me.”
A shame? My eyes prickle with tears. Alice Romano made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong person, and when her husband found out their daughter wasn't his… well, it wasn’t pretty.
Papa did punish him, but everyone just called it a crime of passion. I remember hearing someone say it was terrible that a man's love for his wife might drive him to such extremes. Sure he was punished, but he’s still working for the Family. He paid a lot of money to the Romanos and sacrificed a pinky, but he’s still there.
But Alice? She and the baby are nowhere to be found. Nobody talks about them except the women. Whenever I think about it, I hope they moved away and are happy somewhere, but even I'm not naive enough to believe that. It seemed scary and romantic when I was little, but now that I'm the one with a baby, I have to admit it comes to mind more often. I'd like to think I'm worth more than some blood money and a finger, but I’d rather not find out. For as much as I know Dad loves me, it’s not enough to call what could happen more than a shame.
“Dario would murder Izzy. She’s your granddaughter, Dad.”
“And you're my only daughter. This is ridiculous. If the Fabbris think I would mix my family legacy with theirs, they're even stupider than I thought.” He snorts angrily. Right, it all comes down to family honor. The mafia is a fucked up place to live, even with the people you love.
“Then tell that to Papa.”
“Piccola mia, it's never that simple. If only you could find someone willing to—”
“No, Dad. I chose Izzy once and I’d do it a thousand more times. I’m not going to give her up just so I can start a new life with someone willing to not ask too many questions.”
“Your mother would—”
I drop into the couch with a frustrated huff. “Leave Mom out of this. Don't you dare use her against me. It hasn't even been five years, and you do not have that right. Let her rest in peace.” She always wanted to be a grandmother, though I don't think she would've expected it to happen like this. But then, she never had the opportunity to find out.
“Alessandra, perhaps the father— even if he isn’t Family…”
“No, Dad. Just don't. I know what you're going to say and that’s not an option.” It kills him not to know, but I don’t know what would happen if the truth got out, and I can’t risk ending up another cautionary tale like poor Alice.
He sighs at the other end. “I'm sure you think you’re doing the right thing, but this life would have been so much easier if you—”
“Please, Dad. Don’t say anything you can’t take back. I love you.”
“As I love you. I’ll do what I can, but remember, you were born to the Family. I'll always do my best to protect you, but I'm not all powerful. If you court disaster, there’s only so much I can do. People already ask about why you aren’t around more.”
It's terrifying the moment you grow up enough to realize that your parents are only human—even if that human is a high ranking Mafia officer who can make more things happen than most. I have no illusions that my Dad's an angel. No one gets to where he is without a whole graveyard's worth of skeletons in their closet. He doesn't approve, I know that. But even then, even if he's not on my side, he's at least on his own, and that means keeping my secret.
“I'll try to show up more often, okay? How about you? It's been eight months, and you still haven't been here to see Izzy. Aren't you curious?”
“I make sure that you're taken care of and not out on the streets, but that doesn’t mean I approve of your life choices, Alessandra.”
Sometimes I wonder if he's just scared. If he meets Izzy, she’d be a real live, breathing child to him and not just a name. He might find himself caring more than he'd like. And that doesn't suit his idea of what is appropriate.
When we hang up, nothing's any better, but there’s no news of anything being worse, either.
A massive wail bursts out of the baby monitor and I feel the exhaustion deep in my bones. I allow myself another daydream about one of the guys being here to help me while I get her.
I rock gently in her nursery chair when she starts nudging at my shirt. “Greedy little girl. Didn't you get enough before your nap?”