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“Birds?”
“Lovebirds for the lovebirds,” my uncle says.
My hands fist.
“They’re so pretty,” Gabriela says, smiling, leaning down to put a finger inside the cage, petting one of the birds who comes close to it.
“Not yet named. You’ll have to do that.”
He watches her, and I shift my gaze from the cage, to her, to him. I don’t care about the birds.
She looks up at him. “It’s beautiful,” she finally says. “And fitting.”
My nails dig into the palms of my hands.
Francesco smiles. “You haven’t seen the best part,” he says. He opens the small door and I can see the workmanship is top notch. He reaches inside to push on the floor of the cage. When he does, a trap door of sorts opens.
Gabriela peers close. “What is it?”
“This may be more for my nephew,” he says, giving me a proud look over his shoulder.
No. Not proud.
Calculated.
He pushes a button and music begins to play. A familiar scene.
Gabriela’s mouth opens and she turns to me but I’m so angry, all I see is red.
“Faust. Your favorite opera, I believe?” he asks.
It’s the scene we heard last night as our own tragedy played out.
“It’s perfect,” Gabriela says. She puts her hands on his arms and leans in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you very much, Mr. Catalano.”
“Let’s eat!” Rafa calls out from somewhere behind me as music starts to play and people move to their tables.
17
Gabriela
I’m sent to my room to await my husband’s summons. At least Rafa carried my wedding gift upstairs. It’s heavier than I expected but the birds are sweet.
I recognized the man introduced to me as Rafa’s father as the man Rafa had met with that day in Taormina. I know it from the way he walked. As slimy as he seems to me, I can see he gets under Stefan’s skin and that alone brings a smile to my face. Albeit a bitter one.
Thinking back to a few days ago, hell, even yesterday morning, how are we here now? How do I feel about my husband? I’ve seen the gentle side. The caring side. This one, though, the one from last night, from today, he’s the ruthless one.
I endured the afternoon in that restaurant. I sat beside my husband and sipped my champagne, probably more than I should have, and ate my food, probably too little in proportion to the champagne, and somehow, I survived it. And now we’re back at the Palermo house and I’m waiting for Stefan in my room as I study the gift his uncle gave me.
Stefan didn’t like it and I understand.
The cage—it’s my cage. This house, my prison.
Two birds. He and I. We’re both prisoners in a way, aren’t we? He to his hate. Me to him.
But lovebirds we are not.
The music, that particular scene. Ironic that it’s the same scene that played last night as we battled. As I learned what Stefan would do.
I open the little door and push the button to play the music again. From his question to Stefan I know it wasn’t an accidental choice of music, although not the most fitting gift for a wedding. Well, a true wedding with two people who love each other. Maybe it is fitting for ours.
My phone buzzes with a text message, interrupting my thoughts. It’s on the nightstand charging.
I pick it up. The name of the sender doesn’t register, but I know the number. It’s my father. How did he even get this number? And does he know what’s happened? That Stefan and I are married?
I click into the message which was sent an hour ago but because my phone was out of charge, I only see it now. I read it, thinking how unlike my father to send me a text.
I hear congratulations are in order. For the best, I suppose. I don’t think I could have handed you over to the Sicilian bastard in a proper church. I hope you enjoy my gift. It was quite an extravagance, all that gold, the workmanship.
Know that nothing I do is to harm you. It is all to destroy him and save you. I hope you will enjoy all the surprises of your gilded cage.
Daddy
Daddy.
The word turns my stomach.
Daddy is reserved for fathers who love their daughters. Not for men like my father.
I re-read the message.
I hope you will enjoy all the surprises of your gilded cage.
But Rafa’s father gave me this gift, didn’t he?
I get up, go to it, study it more closely when a knock on my door startles me.
“Yes?”
It’s not Stefan, I know. He wouldn’t have knocked.
The door opens and Rafa is standing out in the hallway. His gaze slides from me to the cage and back but if he knows anything about it, he keeps it hidden from me.
“Congratulations, Gabriela. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that,” he says, coming into my bedroom and closing the door behind him.
