Page 10 of Veil of the Past
“A little,” I admit. “But I’m good. How is everyone?”
The conversation drifts into familiar territory. My Papa asks about my residency, nodding approvingly as I talk about my latest cases, and Mamma checks in on Tristan, asking about his girlfriend, Mio. He lights up when he signs back, telling us all about a trip they’re planning to take to Guatemala next month, and I feel a swell of happiness seeing him so content. They’ve been together for the past ten years. They met in college when they were both nineteen, which is, in my opinion, the best kind of meet-cute.
But then, just as I’m starting to relax, I spot the knowing glance Mamma shares with Nonna, and know what’s coming next. I brace myself, trying not to let it show.
“So, Alessia,” Nonna begins, her tone overly casual, “when are you going to find yourself a nice young man, hmm? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
I suppress a sigh, forcing a smile instead. “Nonna, I’mtwenty-seven, not eighty.”
Mamma jumps in, her expression turning more earnest. “Your Nonna has a point,cara. It’s time to start thinking about settling down. A family is important, especially in our world.”
“I know, Mamma,” I reply, trying to keep my voice light. “But I’m busy right now, and I’m not exactly?—”
“Oh, but we’ve already thought of that!” Nonna cuts in with a delighted smile. “Your Mamma and I spoke to Maria, you know, the one from the garden club. She has a son, Francesco, a very nice boy, handsome, from a good Italian family. We’ve arranged a date for you.” She pauses before adding, “Next Friday.”
I blink, stunned. “A date? You’re setting me up on a date?”
Mamma nods, looking too pleased with herself. “Yes,cara. Justonedate. What’s the harm in meeting someone new?” This is what they say every time they set me up with someone.
I open my mouth to protest, but I can feel their eyes on me, expectant, hopeful. They don’t know about Romiro. They don’t know that my heart is already tangled up in someone else—someone I’ve known my whole life, someone who makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before. And yet… We’ve never said it out loud. We’ve never crossed that line.
“I don’t know,” I start, hesitating. “I’m not sure if?—”
“One date, Alessia,” Nonna says, her voice more serious now. “For me?”
I sigh, feeling cornered. “Okay, fine,” I say reluctantly. “One date. ”
Mamma and Nonna exchange satisfied smiles, and I try to ignore the tight feeling in my chest. Justonedate. What’s the harm in that? But even as I try to convince myself, I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying something—someone. And I wonder, not for the first time, if it’s finally time to let my family in on the secret I’ve been keeping. But instead of doing that, I swallow the words that seem to be fighting for their way out of the darkness and try to focus on whatever it is Nonna is trying to convince Tristan of.
4
ROMIRO
The room is dim, almost too dark, but that’s how Emiliano likes it. A long, polished black table stretches before me, lined with leather-bound chairs that look like thrones for men who think they’re Gods. I sit in one of those chairs, leaning back just enough to make myself look casual and relaxed. My fingers tap lightly on the wooden armrest, the only sound besides the faint hum of the air conditioning. Costa Armenalli sits across from me, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed into slits, practically seething with the kind of hatred that makes this all the more fun for me.
He’s already pissed off, and I haven’t even started yet.
I smirk, leaning forward and breaking the silence. “Costa, you look tense. Something on your mind? Or is it just that Chiara’s been keeping you up at night?”
The mention of his wife’s name makes his jaw tighten further. He hates it when I bring her up. I know it, he knows it, and everyone else in the room knows it, too. Costa never used to take the bait when it came to Chiara, but after she ran off to London and left him with a gunshot wound…? Well, that changed everything. The kicker is, no one truly knows the reason, except for Costa and Chiara. Emiliano, sitting at the head of the table, glances at me from the corner of his eye, a silent warning. But I’m not done. Not yet.
“Chiara… beautiful name, beautiful woman. It was a pleasure meeting her,” I continue, my voice dripping with mock admiration. “I mean, I can see why you’d be so distracted, Costa. She’s… what’s the word? Enchanting?”
Costa’s fists are on the table now, his knuckles white against the black surface. “I’m warning you, Romiro, bring up my wife’s name again and?—”
“And what?” I cut him off, my tone sharp now, taunting. “What will you do, Costa? You’re here in our territory, remember? You’ve come to make a deal, not threats.”
He glares at me, nostrils flaring, but his face remains frozen. For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to throw a punch. I almost wish he would. It’d give me an excuse to break his nose, but before he can, Emiliano clears his throat. A subtle sound, but it carries weight in this room.
“Enough,” Emiliano says, his voice calm but commanding. “We’re here to discuss business, not wives. Romiro, let’s keep this professional.”
I lean back again, smirking. “Of course, boss. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
Costa’s still staring at me, but now with a bored expression. He’s one of the best businessmen in the world and an asset for the Camorra when we need him, but Emiliano’s in charge here, and everyone knows it.
Dominico’s watching us, but he doesn’t seem present. After the death of Thalia, his wife, he became colder, careless, and even reckless. The fucker had loved her; that much is clear to all of us. Dom pushes a folder across the table toward Costa. His eyes, always calculating, flicker between Costa and me, measuring the temperature of the room. “Costa, as I was saying before we were … interrupted … the terms are simple. A fifty-fifty split on all revenue from the new line. Folonari Jewelry will handle distribution in New York and the East Coast. Armenalli & Maroni will maintain the rights in Europe and Asia.”
Costa finally tears his eyes away from me, focusing on Dominico. His facade, always calm,is breaking; I see the vein pulsing at his temple. “And why would I agree to that?” he asks, voice strained. “We’ve already established our presence in North America, Asia, and Europe, not to mention Australia. We don’t need you for distribution.”
