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“Someone wanted to be sure I didn’t find out.”
“That’s…how…I mean, how could you identify him?”
“A tattoo.”
“Tattoo?”
I put my drink down, unbutton the top buttons of my shirt and open it.
“What are you…” she trails off and her eyes drop to my chest and again, she licks her lips. I doubt she’s aware of that. Of how her face flushes. How her eyes grow just a little wider.
A thought occurs to me then and I wonder how experienced she is. I just assumed she was because she’s rebellious. But I wonder if I’m wrong.
Now isn’t the time for that, though.
I just give her a glimpse of the tattoo before closing my shirt again.
“There was a mistake on his. Only he and I knew about it. A kid who worked at the morgue recognized the tattoo. We all have it, Rafa too. Didn’t he show you his?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
“Of course not!”
“Hmm. I thought he might. Anyway, all the men of the family get it when we turn sixteen.”
“What is it?”
“Family crest.”
“And you think my father had something to do with Antonio’s death?”
“I don’t think. I know. And you remember his name. Good girl.”
“Is that why you’re doing this?”
I just watch her.
“My father wouldn’t brutalize someone like that,” she says but even as she does, her words falter.
“No?”
She swallows, lowers her lashes. She picks up the drink I’d set down and takes a swallow of it.
“Did you keep the necklace I gave you?”
She nods.
“It was in my brother’s pocket. That’s what led me to your father.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. It could—”
“There’s more, Gabriela. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”
“I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t…he couldn’t do something like that.”
The pilot comes over the intercom to tell us we’re landing.
I reach over to push the blinds up and when she glances out the window, I see her stiffen.
“He would and he did,” I say, leaning nearer to her to watch as the city comes into view before turning to face her.
She leans as far back as possible and I like this. Like how she trembles when I’m so close.
“You let me know when you’re ready to hear the whole truth, Gabriela.”12GabrielaA car and driver, along with four more soldiers, are waiting for us at the airport and an hour later, we’re pulling into the guarded gates of a gothic style mansion.
“This is my uncle’s house,” Stefan says.
It’s huge and beautiful in a very different way than Stefan’s Palermo house.
“How long are we staying?” I ask as we pull up to the front entrance. I notice the scaffolding along the whole of one side of the house.
“Just overnight.”
“What’s going on there?” Part of the house seems to be under major construction.
“There was a storm a few weeks ago that blew over a tree. Damage was extensive.”
Stefan steps out of the car and extends his hand to help me out.
I ignore it and climb out on my own. I stand taking a deep breath. It’s a little less warm here than Sicily, but it’s still hot. I love Rome. I always have. And I’m excited about the party being at our house later. I’m hoping to sneak away to my old bedroom just for a few minutes at least. It always felt more like home to me than the New York house.
We enter Stefan’s uncle’s house which is loud with construction work, and an older man whom Stefan resembles comes to greet us.
“Stefan,” he says with a wide smile. The two embrace.
“Uncle Jack. It’s good to see you.”
Uncle Jack stands back to look Stefan over. Stefan does the same.
“You look good,” Stefan tells him.
Uncle Jack pats his round belly. “Enjoying life,” he says, then turns to me, openly looking me over.
“This is Gabriela,” Stefan says. “Marchese’s daughter.”
I guess they all know my father.
Whatever Uncle Jack thinks of that, he hides it well because his expression doesn’t change. He extends a hand.
“Welcome to my home, Gabriela.” He touches my ring and lifts my hand to examine it. “And congratulations to you both on the engagement.”
Stefan comes to stand beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Thank you, Uncle. Gabriela’s excited about tonight’s party, aren’t you?”
“Can’t wait,” I say with a false smile.
There’s a sudden sound of something crashing in the other room. Uncle Jack shakes his head. “I’m going to kill these idiots,” he mutters as he turns toward the cordoned off construction area where the sound came from. “They’ll be gone in a few hours,” he yells over his shoulder to us.
Stefan turns to me. “I’ll take you up to your room. You have about an hour before the hair and makeup people come.”
“What time are we leaving?”
“Seven.”
It’s a little after five now.
I let him lead me up the stairs and to a bedroom. I note the dust that’s crept into the undamaged part of the house and feel a warm breeze. I wonder how much of the side wall is gone.
