Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. When I see Salvatore’s eyes bulging, I almost yank my hand away. He stares at our clasped hands as though it’s a personal affront.
“Dario, let’s speak alone,” he says.
“No, Father,” Dario replies. “We’re not cutting Elena out of this conversation. She deserves to be here. She deserves to hear anything you’re going to say.”
Salvatore steeples his fingers, looking at me severely. For a moment, I think he’s going to start yelling. It’s like there’s all this pent-up pressure in him getting ready to explode.
“How much has my son paid you?”
“A lot,” I admit, “and he was going to pay me even more. When this began, it was about money. I won’t deny that.”
“Now we’re to believe that this motivation has miraculously disappeared?”
I’m about to waver, but then Dario squeezes my hand supportively, giving me the strength to respond. “Coming here has been the craziest experience of my life. It meant giving up what could’ve been my big break in the theater. It meant leaving my sick aunt. It meant trying to exist in a world where I don’t belong, being laughed at, sneered at, but this is the truth, sir. If your son were dirt-poor, I’d still love him.”
“I suppose I should simply take your word for that,” he says.
“You took my word, Salvatore,” Maria says.
“Maria,” he snaps.
“They already know,” she scolds. “I’ve told them both about who I really am, about my true origins. I’m sorry. I know you never wanted me to tell anyone, but once I learned who Elena was—”
“You knew?” Salvatore says. For a moment, he doesn’t seem like a Mafia Don. He looks like what he is—a betrayed and heartbroken old man. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew you’d make them stop,” she sighs. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. I wanted to give them some time. We’re only here now because Dario insisted we tell you the truth.”
“Some time for what?” Salvatore says.
“To experience what we experienced—to fall in love.”
“Love,” Salvatore repeats. “They’ve known each other for a week, maybe two?”
“You told me you fell in love the moment you saw me—a beggar on the side of the road. The daughter of a prostitute, and you knew, Salvie.”
Salvatore grits his teeth, his fingers still steepled. He’s completely repressed the vulnerable look he just showed when Maria told him the truth. “Things are different for them than for us,” Salvatore replies. “The Family was smaller back then. We were still making a name for ourselves. I had the freedom to choose someone from a lower social background. Dario needs to represent what the Family has become.”
“You don’t understand, Father,” Dario says. “I’m not asking for your permission. I’m telling you that Elena is the love of my life. I’ll take the consequences if you refuse to accept us.”
Salvatore leans forward, glaring at his son. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he growls. “Do you have any notion of the pain this could cause?”
“I know, Father,” Dario says sharply, “but she’s my woman. I’m standing by her.”
“Easy,” I whisper, even as his words send warmth flowing through me. “Let’s keep this civil.”
Dario glances at me, the fury draining from his face. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I don’t think this is about the Family. We already own the city. Our control will be even more secure when your land grab is complete. Hell, I wiped out the Romanos, and our connections have kept all our men from facing any consequences.”
“You say that as though it was easy.”
“Not easy, but it’s a testament to what we are, to who we are.”
“What’s your point?” Salvatore snaps.
“I think this is about you,” Dario says, struggling to keep his voice level.
I squeeze his hand, reminding him to stay calm. He seems grateful that I’m here and able to mediate the situation.
“Explain,” Salvatore snaps.
“You’ve always been ashamed of the Family’s origins. You hear stories of other Families who go back to the Prohibition era, who can boast of doing business with Capone and his cronies, and you wish we were the same. You wish we had that long lineage, but you know you can’t go back in time and make it so. Instead, you try to force me to pretend to be something I have no interest in being.”
“What’s that, son?”
“A stuck-up ass,” he snaps. “A man who’d judge a perfect woman like Elena because she doesn’t know which fork to use for which course. You expect me to judge someone based on them being born poor when you were born poor yourself. Father, I love you. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but you’re being a hypocrite.”
Salvatore looks at me. “You see how my only son speaks to me, girl?”
“She has a name,” Maria says, placing her hand on her husband’s arm.
“Oh, yes, Elena Esposito. Or is that false, too? Are you even Italian?”