My fingers clenched involuntarily around the blood-slick handle. Sweat beaded between my shoulder blades, prickling as it dripped down my back. My entire body felt askew, the seams had stitched wrong, and my insides one step away from tumbling out. The wallpaper spun behind Cassio. I wanted to refute him, but the way he spat it out as if the secret was a hot coal he’d been burning with for years, made me believe him. He truly thought my mom was alive and that she wanted to flee from my dad. I didn’t understand any of this. But more pressing was that he insisted he hadn’t had anything to do with our missing shipment.
“Why are you here?” My dad had insisted I come alone. If I hadn’t defied him and taken Darren and Gio, the bullet might have gone through my thick skull. Leaving Cassio to be taken care of and pinned with the blame again. Just like they had been for my mom.
Cassio shouted a solitary laugh to the ceiling.
“You tell me, asshole.”
The jagged pieces of the puzzle I’d been grappling with fell into place. The burning indignation from Cassio. His vehement protestations I’d brushed aside. My gut churned, and now I knew why. He’d been telling the truth. I’d sliced a rival family in Greenich Bay half to death because of false information.
My hands were stained red. No provocation could clear me.
My dad had set me up. But why?
A chill went through me. Did he not believe me about Paolo? I’d left the house, eager to appease him because I knew I would be betraying him soon enough. But he’d sent me to this dingy house with a plan half completed already. I tilted the blade on Cassio’s wrists.
“You don’t have to—” he keened as I sliced lengthways down his forearm. Blood flooded out in a wave of red. I couldn’t let him live, even if I wanted more answers from him. Cassio was a Donato and there would be no explaining this to Rocco. It would be war.
The only fight I wanted to stoke was against my dad. Red smeared in macabre streaks as I wiped my hands on my shirt, tucking away the boiling panic and confusion. I needed to get home to Anita. I’d left my wife with no protection except for Paolo. Certainty settled over me of what I’d find.
I’d have more blood on my hands before the day was over.
24
The steady rush of water and my rumbling stomach drew me into the kitchen. Maria had left the sink close to overflowing, and the water lapped at the edge. Suds dripped down the cupboard doors. I cleaned up the mess, knowing how easy it was to get distracted from tasks. An affliction I knew intimately. My thoughts couldn’t stop drifting to Romeo and the memory of his tongue between my legs. I ducked into the pantry and slapped my cheeks. I needed to snap out of it. But a grin stole control of my lips, despite my efforts. I think I needed a day in bed with Romeo. I couldn’t keep wandering around with a dopey look on my face and an itch for his touch. My stomach grumbled in a displeased reminder, and I fixed a meal for Paolo and me while I was here. I dug around in the pantry, selecting the pistachios I knew Paolo enjoyed. I heard Maria’s soft footfalls outside.
“Do we still have ham, Maria?” I called out. “I want to make a lunch tray.”
When I emerged from the pantry, it wasn’t Maria who greeted me, but Matteo Orazio. I clutched the container of pistachios before willing my fingers to relax. He was leaning over the counter, his chin balanced in the palm of his hand. His red-rimmed eyes darted to the food in my arms. He was the last person I expected to see.
“It’s a little early for lunch, isn’t it?” he teased, offering me a congenial smile. I’d never seen him with stubble, but it covered the lower half of his jaw like a shadow. He took the containers from me.
“Hello, Mr. Orazio, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I fluttered my lashes, bussing my cheek against his, the bristles rough on my sensitive skin. I put the counter between us, ostensibly preparing a tray of food. What was he doing here? I willed my throbbing heart to slow, swallowing the acid that rose in my throat.
“Mia nuora, you should call me Dad.”
Romeo had been called away to deal with a border scuffle. So why was Matteo standing here nonchalantly smiling at me? He gripped the counter, tilting his head. We were two predators tracking our prey. But he didn’t know that. He saw the dress, my hair tied back with a floaty scarf.
To him, I was only a wife. Demure and sweet.
“If you would prefer that…Dad. Can I get you something to drink?”
I paced over to the cupboard and hovered my hand near the blue-tinted glasses.
“No thank you, dear, I’m not thirsty, but I appreciate your hospitality. I know I’m here unannounced, but I just want to get to know my son’s wife a little better. We haven’t spent much time together, have we?”
After you sent my husband out on urgent business, sure.The back of my neck prickled. Maria would never have let him inwithout coming to inform me, not after the debacle with my mom.
“You don’t need an invitation to visit me. I’m honored. Such a shame that Romeo was called away earlier. It would be nice to have him here. But work calls.” I focused my gaze over his shoulder, plastering on an empty smile. Let him see what he wanted to see.
“This way, we won’t be interrupted.” Rows of white teeth flashed.
I circled my neck with a fluttering hand, looking at the full sink and the stack of dishes next to it with a grimace. He hadn’t relaxed, despite his deceiving stance. Now, he rolled up to his full height, assessing me with blue eyes just the same shade as Romeo’s.
“Excuse the mess. It doesn’t normally look this disorganized. Please forgive me for that. I prefer things neat and tidy, usually.”
I didn’t mention the staff that kept the house together. This was about boring him, so he dropped the tension in his shoulders. Reminding him I was nothing to be worried about. There was still no sign of Maria. I could hear rummaging down the hall, the squeak as doors opened and closed. Matteo looked out the window, spotting the greenhouse with a flare of interest.
“My wife kept our house so tidy. She mopped every day, refused to let me hire any staff. She didn’t want people in her space. I’d come home every night to a home cooked meal and a smile. Just as you do for Romeo. That’s what men like us need, a soft place to call our own.”
