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I nod slowly. That’s exactly what I expected to hear from a man likethe herobut I had hoped that he might’ve changed, or at least that he’d understand me better.
Now I can see there’s no hope.
“Good luck with your new wife then.” I turn away, too sick to keep meeting his gaze. “I hope she gives you plenty of children.”
“Gian—”
I leave the library. I do it fast before I change my mind and make an even bigger mistake. When the door shuts behind me, it’s like cutting off a piece of my history. I’m close with Carlo, but I always looked up to Saul in a lot of ways. Yeah, he wasthe hero, the ass-kisser, the brown-noser, but he’s smart and he’s strong and he does the hard stuff even when he doesn’t want to. I’ve always respected that about him.
Now all I can see is some sniveling piece of trash willing to do whatever his boss tells him, no matter what the consequences are.
“You okay?” Carlo asks when I come back downstairs and pour myself another drink. He looks concerned. “That conversation didn’t go well?”
“Saul’s a prick.” I throw the alcohol back.
“What’s new?” Carlo grins and pours for himself. “You getting drunk now?”
“Yes.” I throw back a second. “You?”
“Fuck yes. Might as well.” He downs his own, and I do my best to ignore the nervous, worried look he gives me, and focus on blacking out the pain.
Chapter 3
Allegra
“You’re going to be fine.” Sophia adjusts my hair and brushes the sleeve of my dress. I’m standing in front of a floor-length mirror in my room at home, dread filling my guts like spoiled wine. “Honestly, you look amazing. Any guy would cut off a limb just to go on a date with you.”
“I definitely wouldn’t love that. Imagine all the blood.”
“You’d be bathing in it like the freaking empress you are.” Sophia pulls me into a hug and I squeeze her back.
My cousin’s the only person in the world that can make me feel better. We’ve been close since we were little and even roomed together back in college—she was a year ahead of me at Blackwoods. She doesn’t know the full extent of why I’m upset, but hey, a girl’s got to have a few secrets.
Especially when those secrets could completely ruin my life.
Sophia’s a little taller than me with thick dark hair and big brown eyes. I’ve got more curves, but otherwise we have a strong family resemblance. About as Italian as it gets.
“What do you know about him?” I ask as we leave my bedroom. She walks with me toward the stairs like she’s marching me to a funeral. He’s already down there in the sitting room with Papa waiting for me to show up and I’ve delayed as long as I can, but there’s no use in putting it off. It’s our first formal meeting, and I’m pretty sure my father wants to make sure I’m not going to run away. I catch sight of Amadeus lurking in the hallway nearby with a few more soldiers.
“Not a whole lot,” Sophia says. “He’s pretty serious. Nobody has anything bad to say about him, at least not from what I can remember.” She shrugs a little. “He’s older than us though.”
“That’s basically all I know too.”
“Beats marrying the other one, right? Can you imagine being a Don’s wife?” There’s a strange bit of wistfulness in Sophia’s tone. She didn’t understand when I ran away, and I don’t think she ever will. For her, and for most of my other girl cousins, finding a good guy with a strong position inside the Famiglias is basically the best life can get. Marrying a Don is peak mafia-bride stuff, and I gave it up. That’s what we were raised to believe, anyway. A good Italian man with strong family values. Landing a Don is basically like hitting a jackpot in the lottery. Which is why running away was so unthinkable, at least to everyone around me.
How could I be so ungrateful? That’s what Papa said, anyway. Sophia didn’t use those words, but I could see it in her eyes when she asked me what I was thinking, giving up an opportunity like Renzo Rossi.
Marrying a Don meant my children would be powerful. They’d be set for life.
They’d also be stuck as Rossis.
Not that she’d ever understand.
I make up excuses whenever someone mentions what I did. I panicked, I was afraid, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. They usually let it go. But Sophia and I both know there’s more left unsaid, and I hope she never wants the truth.
“I just want him to be nice to me, that’s all.” I shove a smile on my face to deflect from any further conversation about Renzo.
“Come on, you want him to be a little bit mean, right? Nice guys are good and all, but you need a man.” Sophia nudges me with her elbow, waggling her eyebrows.
