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He takes my phone, his eyes narrowing as he reads the message. “Good,” he says, a smile breaking out on his lips. “Took him long enough.”
“Long enough to what?”
“Marconi’s been tracking you via that thing. Now you’ve switched it on, he thinks he’s got the upper hand but last night, I finalized my plans. I’ve got men watching all his haunts. As soon as he appears in public, he’s dead.” He kisses the top of my head. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You tricked me?”
“It had to be that way.” He sees the anger in my eyes and his expression changes. “I needed you to tell Sarah you were scared I’d kill you. It had to sound genuine. This way, Vincent knows he needs to move fast, take you out before I do. So he pops up and we take him out.”
“So the whole argument was fake?”
“Of course.” He takes my hands in his. “I’m in love with you, Isabella. Obsessed doesn’t even begin to cover it. Listen, there’s a festival in the square today. Give me a few minutes and we’ll go together, all right?
“I know you’ve hated being cooped up but I had to make sure you were safe.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been too busy arranging everything but that changes now. Thanks to you, Marconi will not see the sunset.”
“I can’t believe you faked a fight with me to make me call my friend and tell her I feared for my life.”
“The machinations of the mafia boss. But don’t worry, last time, I promise. From now on, nothing but honesty. Get dressed and we’ll go and enjoy the sunshine. Anything you want to buy, it’s on me.”
* * *
“I used to come every year when I was a kid,” Dominic says as we walk through the crowded streets. “Haven’t been back inyears.” He points up the top of a hill to a crumbling white stone building surrounded by smaller houses.
“That was the dance hall,” he says with a wistful smile. “Was in there every weekend when I was a kid. It was where I danced with Maria. Where her father proposed the marriage between us.
“This old mansion got converted into a dance hall. All us kids hung out there. I remember Vincent glaring at the two of us while we danced. He hated me, always has.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a Caruso. He thought Maria was marrying beneath her. Tried to stop the wedding and had to be tied up to keep him out the way. Anyway, enough of that. Let’s enjoy the festival.”
We walk further into the village. Strings of lights crisscross above the cobblestone streets. The aroma of Italian cuisine — fresh pesto, grilled seafood, and sweet pastries — fills the air. A live band plays in the town square, their lively melodies inviting people to dance and celebrate.
“Do you see that gelato stand over there?” Dominic points to a small, colorful booth adorned with flowers. “When I was ten, I made a pact with my friends that we’d run it one summer, sell the best gelato in Italy.”
His eyes sparkle with the memory. “We spent weeks planning flavors. I was obsessed with creating a perfect lemon gelato.”
I can’t help but smile, picturing a young Dominic with dreams of nothing more fancy than ice cream. “What happened?” I ask.
He sighs, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. “I was sent to the States to join my father, learn the family business. Everything changed. I never got to say goodbye to my friends.”
The sudden shift in his demeanor tugs at my heart. The pain of such a sudden uprooting at a young age is palpable in his voice.
We continue walking, and he points to a cobblestone alley. “That’s where I had my first kiss,” he says with a half-smile. “Her name was Lucia. We were so clumsy and nervous. I think I bumped her head against the wall trying to be smooth.”
We stop to watch a group of dancers performing a tarantella, their steps quick and precise. The music is infectious, a rhythm that seems to pulse through the crowd.
Before I realize what’s happening, Dominic takes my hand and leads me into the dance.
At first, I’m hesitant, my movements stiff and uncertain. But as the dance progresses, I find myself being swept up in the energy, the music, the joy of the moment.
Dominic’s hand is steady on my back, guiding me through the steps. Our eyes meet, and for a fleeting second, we’re just two people lost in the rhythm, our troubles momentarily forgotten.
“Everything went wrong when I moved to America,” he says as the song comes to an end. “I had to grow up pretty fast, saw my first dead man when I was twelve. My father wanted me to toughen up, get used to seeing corpses.
“He told me I’d be making some of my own soon enough. Passed me a gun and made me shoot this guy who’d tried to go to the cops. I remember standing there unable to fill the trigger until the guy laughed at me.
“Something snapped inside and I shot him. I never forgot the way my father patted my shoulder, told me he was proud of me. That I’d become a man.”
