“That’s more like it,” he mumbles with a pleased grin.
“On a serious note, though,” I say, sobering, “how are you gonna handle Iseppa? I can’t relax knowing she’s out there gunning for you. It’s a looming dark cloud over my head.”
“I’m just fucking with her for now, seeing as I’m stuck here,” he says. “I’m letting her think she’s winning. I played hard on some things, acquiesced on some things. Then told her I need proof you’re alive before negotiating further. Gave her a specific sentence I want you to say. Interested to see how she will pull that off with Stefano.”
Until his secret society peeps give the green light, Saint can’t leave. The doctor is scheduled to come two days from now to conduct a full assessment and hopefully give the all clear.
“And once you’re allowed to leave here?” I ask.
“She laid her hands on you.” His voice is so calm. “I’m going to handle her differently than initially planned. I want to look her in the eyes and watch the life leave her as I slowly sever her head from her body, in front of all who chose to follow her.”
Forgive me, Father, for falling in love with a spawn of the devil.“Do you have to kill her, though? I mean, sheisyour sister. Isn’t there a less, um, violent way to deal with this?”
“It’s either her or me. She has made it clear we can’t coexist,” he replies. “When I returned fromItaliato stand in for Papa, I had a clear goal of cleaning upla famiglia. Rip out the cancer eating us, weed out the rotten roots, the snakes. Iseppa was the last malignant lump left in the breast, and I tried my version of chemotherapy on herbecauseshe’s my sister. I made her the donna. I stepped out of the way and gave her full control, power. All so I wouldn’t have to kill her. It didn’t work. Now, she has to go.”
“But she—”
“Stop, we’re done talking about this.” His tight, stern tone brooks no argument. “Like we agreed, you handle your family how you choose, and I’ll handle mine.”
“I’m just—”
“Enough, Tillie,” he grits out. “You don’t get a say in this.”
The naturally defiant, insubordinate wretch in me wants to talk back, bristle, give him attitude. But the deadly, glacial look he’s pinning me with keeps me subdued, quiet. This isn’t Saint glaring at me. It’s Don Santo Luciani. And he clearly doesn’t appreciate me sticking my nose in his murderous affairs.
There’s a time and place for everything, and my instincts are telling me now is the time for me to shut the fuck up.
So, instead of giving lip, I smile sweetly and say, “Shower with me?”
~
TWO DAYS LATER,the doctor arrives and gives two thumbs-up on Saint’s recovery, but with suggestions of another seven days of bed rest.
Two days after that, he gets the all clear to leave—thank heavens.
We’re downstairs in the foyer of the Castello mansion, gearing up to leave, when Lorenzo strolls in carrying a wooden box wrapped with a red bow.
“This was just delivered for you.” Lorenzo deposits the box on a side table. “Fair warning, gifts fromthemin packages like this are never anything good.” He eyes the box warily, shaking his head. “I don’t even want to know. Just take whatever it is with you. The car is ready out front.”
With that, he strides off.
Saint stares at the box for a long time, almost as if he knows what’s in there. Expelling a sigh filled with something akin to resignation, he tells me, “Stay here.”
He walks over to the side table, unties the bow, and slowly lifts the lid.
I watch his face for any expression that’ll hint at what’s inside. But it’s blank, expressionless, impassive as he stares down into the box.
He doesn’t reach inside. But he does cock his head a bit, in a curious and observing manner.
Quietly, he puts the lid back onto the box, returns to me with long, firm strides, and takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
Glancing over my shoulder at the box as he all but drags me out of the house, I ask, “What was it?”
With no emotion, no inflection whatsoever, he replies, “Iseppa’s head.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Should I know you?”
