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Greenich Bay - 1962
“I don’t love her. I’ll never love her.”
Eight words is all it took for my world to come crashing down.
“You might surprise yourself, Romeo. She’s a swell girl. Just gi—” The soft timbre of my cousin Paolo reached my ears and the aching hurt surged into a fiery rage. I almost dropped the platter that held the two plates I’d prepared for lunch.
Maria had startled me when she banged on the door to the spare room, her chest heaving with exertion under her starched white apron. I panicked, but she didn’t seem to notice all the vials and bottles, not in her haste to tell me my new husband was home for lunch. A strange ecstasy filled my chest, and I tucked the vial I’d been filling into my pocket, as I rushed to prepare him a meal. Romeo’s housekeeper could have done it, but I wanted to spoil my handsome husband myself. We were technically newlyweds. Our marriage was only three weeks old. He’d been elusive since we’d said our vows. I thought it mighthave been embarrassment from our disastrous wedding night. My cheeks heated at the memory. Now it all made sense. He hadn’t wanted me at all.
“I didn’t marry your mousy cousin for any reason except the promise you made. An invitation to meet The Gardener.”
Bile rose in my throat, and I leaned against the wall, clamping my tongue between my teeth to stop it plastering over the floor. My chest throbbed with blinding pain. The plates trembled together, the slight noise jarring. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, Romeo didn’t want me. He was an Orazio, and I was a nobody. This wasn’t a fairytale I’d deluded myself into believing. It was a nightmare.
“She’s dear to me, Romeo, treat her kindly,” Paolo tried to warn, and I heard the sharp exhale and grunt as Romeo obviously took offense to his impertinent words, putting him in his place. Paolo was only a guard and Romeo was the Orazio heir.
“I’ll do her the kindness of not even interacting with her. You focus on brokering me a meet. I held up my end of the bargain and put a ring on her finger. I need The Gardener’s help.”
My shaky breath rattled from my lungs. I needed to interrupt before Paolo spilled his guts. I pushed open the half-shut dining-room door and glued a bright smile to my face. It stretched my skin. Garish in its fakery.
“I heard you were home. I made you lunch.” I proffered the tray, sliding it over the table. I quelled the urge to touch my hair and gripped my hands behind my back. My curls appeared disheveled because I had been anticipating working all day. Their level of neatness fell short of what was expected. My mom’s voice berated me in my head for not being the perfect wife. I had vowed to be that for Romeo. My new husband stared at the tagliatelle paired with my special Bolognese sauce. His eyes were such a light blue that they looked carved froma glacier. Cold and blank. Shivers swept through me like a snowstorm.
How had I ever thought this man was in love with me?
He was looming over Paolo, tension arresting his sharp jaw. Romeo Orazio captivated me from the moment I met him. His hands reminded me of my father’s, tanned, calloused, and used to dealing with violence. His nose had an uneven edge, as if it had been re-arranged at some point. But it only added to his allure. Dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, he appeared to be a gentleman at first glance. But tight seams and a neat tie knot couldn’t mask the coiled power he wielded with ease. His dark hair was slicked back with a perfect swoop. He’d laughed often in our short courtship, but there was no trace of his wry amusement now. He was immoveable ice.
“I can’t stay. I’m needed at work.” His stony stare passed over me and pinned on Paolo. “I expect an answer to what we were speaking about.”
My cousin had the decency to appear chagrined, his cheeks faint pink. My gaze followed Romeo as he strode from the room, giving me no more attention than he would a piece of furniture.
I wanted to crawl into bed and nurse the ache in my stomach and heart, but I had other messes to sort out. I shoved down the sharp prickle that flared through my body.
“Come, eat with me,” I offered. Maria poked her head in, wringing her hands.
“Master is leaving?” she questioned.
“He has work.” I gave her my well-practiced smile. One I thought fooled my husband, the one my mom was terrified of. ‘Work’ was an ambiguous term for a crime lord’s heir that I knew not to question. Work was odd hours, blood stains and occasionally people not showing up at the dinner table.
Like my father.
He had been a guard, the same as Paolo. Fodder for Orazio’s to churn up, a body for their army. Until one day he never returned.
His disappearance catapulted me into doing more than waiting for death to come. I didn’t want to be swept up by the shadows. I couldn’t close my eyes and ears as women were expected to do in this family. Death was my companion now.
It seemed Paolo needed a reminder.
“Can you bring us some tea?” I added, and Maria hastened away, wiping her hands on her apron. Paolo snatched a plate up and was shoveling a mouthful of food when he realized I was glaring at him. Where Romeo was pristine, collected, and elegant, Paolo was brute chaos. His wide shoulders hunched over the table, his collar gaping. His hair flopped over his forehead, and he pushed it back as he ate. Paolo and I both had dark eyes, but that was where the familial similarities ended. My cousin sprawled in the chair, boisterous and confident. His legs spread wide, ignorant to my thrumming fury. He rubbed at his freckled nose, a smudge of sauce marring it.
“I heard you,” I commented as I pulled the remaining plate in front of me. The betrayal and hurt writhed in my stomach, smothering my appetite.
“What?” Paolo asked through a full mouth.
“I remember when you introduced me to Romeo.” I fingered the fork on the table.
It had been six months ago. Paolo dragged me out of my garden shed and forced a dress on me.
“I have a good feeling about tonight,” he’d gushed, hand propelling me forward into the annual gathering of families under the Orazio umbrella in Greenich Bay. I hadn’t attended for years since my mom had given up on marrying me off.
