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“Did he specify it had to be Lore?” someone asked.
“No. He made no specifications on who it needed to be. Just a Costa,” Lorenzo said.
“Then why can’t it be some widow?” he asked. “Some eighty-year old who he wouldn’t even put his hands on.”
All our minds were on the same thing.
Marriage.
And consummation.
And sweet, innocent Lore.
Who had no idea what she was getting herself into, not really.
“I’m sure this isn’t of much comfort to anyone here right now,” Emilio said, holding up his hands, trying to be a voice of reason, “but my understanding is that Renzo, like all of us, has a code with women. The man even has female capos in his organization. He’s all about his ethics. And history seems to show he doesn’t tolerate sexual assault or domestic violence or any of that shit in his organization. There’s no reason for us to assume he would hurt Lore.”
No one was convinced.
I mean, maybe he wasn’t a monster who would hold her down.
But coerce her, maybe? Tell her it was her duty until she agreed, even if she didn’t want it?
I wasn’t the only person to think that concern.
But I kept my thoughts to myself as I watched Lore’s brothers’ tormented faces.
I remembered this.
One glance at Emilio told me he did too.
When this was his sister.
And how it had fucking wrecked him.
For years.
Being her brother, but unable to stop it, unable to save her, to protect her.
Even after he learned Isabella had fallen in love with Primo, he didn’t get out of that hole he’d been in until recently. When he’d found a woman who brought joy into his life.
Eventually, among all the questions and concerns being raised, Nico flew up out of his chair fast enough to send it falling backward, knocking against the floor as he turned and stormed out of the room, then the brownstone as a whole.
It was Emilio who rushed off after him.
The only person here, aside from Nico’s own brothers, who could have any idea what he was going through.
“Trust me,” Lorenzo said some time later. “There are no questions or concerns you have brought up that I haven’t already come up with myself, that I haven’t discussed with Lore, her father, and her siblings. But she’s not bending. And Renzo got wind and accepted. So here we are. With a choice to make.”
“What fucking choice?” growled one of the men from the crowd.
“To turn our backs on Lore when she needs us most because we’re mad at Renzo, or to show up and be there for her. I know what I plan to do. And I know what I expect from all of you.”
“You expect us to show up at her wedding and act like we’re happy for her?” someone balked.
“To show up, yes,” Lorenzo said. “But I have a feeling it’s going to be a tense, joyless ceremony. Still, we owe it to Lore to show her that we support her. Because the last fucking thing we want is for her to enter into this thinking that her entire family has disowned her. Which would make it so she wouldn’t come to us if something happens.”
He was being logical about it.
