The Morettis, one of the other most influential mafia families in Boston. A girl from a family like that is perfect for a man like Francesco.
So why does the thought of him being married to someone else invoke such a strong, bitter feeling in my chest?
“It’s about time they finally got hitched,” one woman says as she stirs a pot. She’s one of the recent cooks. I haven’t bothered to learn her name. “They’ve been promised to each other for forever now.”
I ignore the way my chest tightens at that.Promised to each other.I internally huff.
Allegra, one of the housekeepers, leans across the counter, her voice dropping into a juicy whisper.
“Why do you think they are suddenly rushing the engagement proceedings? Signor Dante wants Francesco to have a child soon!”
She says it like she’s so sure, like Dante told her himself over tea or something.
“Soon, we’ll have another Romano baby running down the halls,” Marta says with a hint of emotion in her voice. I heard she’s one of the oldest cooks here. She watched the four Romano sons grow up.
I wonder what Francesco was like as a child. Was he as mischievous and charming as his brother? Or has he always been cold? I picture a proper boy, with dark hair and even darkereyes, doing whatever his father wants and trying to keep his siblings in place.
My mind is so distracted that I almost slice my finger.
When I tune back into the conversation, they’re still talking about Francesco’s future wife.
“…I think she is the perfect ice queen for the ice prince.”
A sharp laugh cuts through the air while another person snorts.
“They’re exactly alike. Sometimes I wonder what their conversations are like.”
I wonder too. I bet he treats her like the queen she is. I bet he doesn’t say crass things to her face. I bet he is a perfect gentleman to her.
“I wonder how she’ll rule this household when the time comes,” another younger maid says. “She’ll never be as good as Donna Caterina.”
Caterina, Dante’s late wife.
Living in the Romano estate has made me learn things about the Romanos that were once a mystery. I heard she died when the boys were still very young. She slipped on a staircase during a blackout caused by a storm. Lorenzo wasn’t even five yet. I heard she was kind and soft, the perfect calm a man like Dante needed. The Romano household hasn’t been the same since she died.
A part of me wonders if that’s why Francesco is the way he is. A cold, murderous bastard because he lacked his mother’s love.
The conversation moves from Silvia’s competence—some arguing for and against her notion—to the other Moretti siblings. There’s not much to say about Giulia and Dario. They are too quiet to be engaged in any scandal or gossip.
But Lucia, the youngest girl of the Moretti family, is a female version of Marco, according to Allegra, and a walking scandal.
I keep my eyes on the potatoes, but I’m listening. Lucia. I’ve only seen pictures of her. Sharp jawline, body of a model; it’s not shocking why she’s got people obsessed. A stunning woman who does whatever she wants despite being raised under the vicious grip of the mafia? Abominable.
She and Silvia couldn’t be more different. Silvia is poised, quiet, and always looks like she’s posing for a portrait. She’s the perfect daughter, the one that does whatever is asked and brings pride to the family.
“Did you know Lucia once got arrested in Paris for fighting at an underground club?” Allegra whispers again. “She laughed in the mugshot.”
Scattered laughter fills the kitchen, but it quickly dies down when a heavy presence steps into the almost crowded space.
We all freeze as Dante’s consigliere, Olga, walks in. The only sound that can be heard other than her black heels clicking against the tile is the boiling soup on the fire. She’s a tall, middle-aged woman with a perpetual frown on her face. I’ve seen her a few times. I don’t like her.
Today, she’s wearing tailored pants with a black silk blouse tucked neatly into them, and her brown hair is twisted into a sleek knot. As usual, her face is bare of any kind of makeup.
I’ve heard things about her as well, like any other person who walks within these walls. She’s the mind behind Dante’s power. Olga handles family business, settles disputes, and even dishes out punishment when needed. Some say she once caught a traitor before he made it out of the estate gates and killed him herself. I’m glad she doesn’t live here. There’s only so much I can deal with.
I glance up at her, and our eyes meet.
“You. Come with me.”
