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At the same moment, Dominic comes out of the room next door.
“Well, good morning,” he says. His hair is wet from a shower and I find it strange how different he looks than his brothers. He’s blond where they’re dark, and although he’s powerfully built, he’s leaner than they are.
“Good morning,” I say, knowing there’s no way to avoid talking to him.
“You feel better? You look better,” he gives me a smile.
“Yeah, it must have been a twenty-four-hour thing. I hope I didn’t ruin your birthday dinner,” I add on.
He shrugs a shoulder. “We’re not really here for my birthday. We’re here for mom and I know she’s glad she met you.”
I nod, thinking maybe I misjudged him. He’s going to lose his mother soon. I open my mouth to say something, but he goes first.
“You know, a friend of mine had the same thing you had last night. The second she smelled fish, she turned green.”
“What?”
“Turned out it wasn’t a bug.”
I’m confused, and I’m about to ask what he means but his cell phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket, looks at the screen.
“What do you mean?” I ask as he swipes his finger across the screen and is about to walk away to answer the call.
He gives me a grin, starts talking in Italian into the phone, and pokes a finger in my belly. I feel my mouth fall open. Dominic’s grin widens, he gives me a wink, turns and walks away, laughing at what the person on the other end is saying.
For a long minute, I stand in the empty hallway dumbfounded.
It’s a bug. Just a bug.
I walk back into Sergio’s room. I don’t even close the door behind me but sit on the bed and I’m counting. But it’s not possible. We’ve had unprotected sex once. We’ve been really careful. So careful.
No. Of course that’s not it. I feel fine now. Dominic is just fucking with me. Sergio said he would.
I go back out into the hallway. I want to find Sergio. And get some coffee. Apologize to his mom for last night. I hear Dominic talking from what I assume is his bedroom. He must still be on the phone. Apart from that, the house is quiet as I soundlessly make my way down the stairs. I can’t help feeling like a trespasser.
The large living room is empty, although soft music is playing from an ancient looking record player. Across the way is the dining room where we ate last night. It looks like there’s a breakfast buffet arranged on the sideboard, but I bypass it.
I hear noise behind the swinging door on the opposite side of the dining room. It’s the sound of pots and pans, of a woman giving the order to take a sauce off the heat before it’s burnt. I turn and walk down the hallway toward rooms with closed doors. I wonder if Sergio’s behind one of them and suddenly panic that he’s not. That something happened and he left. I don’t want to be in this house without him.
The thought makes me shudder, but then as I approach the farthest door, I hear him. Something tells me not to linger, but I do. It’s not on purpose. I don’t mean to eavesdrop. But when I hear Franco’s raised voice, make out what he’s saying, I freeze.
“I told you. I don’t want the girl,” Sergio says. “I have never agreed with what you’re doing to her.”
“The DeMarco’s lost the war. This is their punishment. Consequences, son. Better get used to dishing them out, or they’ll walk all over you when you’re head of the family.”
“Punishing an innocent girl doesn’t sit right with me.”
“It’s a school. I’ll educate her, at least,” he says, leaning back. “She belongs to you. I don’t care what you do with her. You know what’s expected of you. You’re first born.”
“It’s not the fucking middle ages. Give her to Salvatore. Or hell, don’t give her to anyone!”
“No,” Franco says a little more quietly, and I swear I can almost see the tight line of his mouth.
“Salvatore already signed the contract.”
“I don’t care who signed the goddamned contract."
“For the last time,” Sergio starts, pauses. I know this tone of his voice. It’s the one that says this is the end of the discussion. “I wash my hands of this. Of this contract. Of these particular consequences. Of Lucia DeMarco. This is finished.”
Lucia DeMarco. She belongs to Sergio—according to Franco Benedetti. The jealousy I feel shames me. Lucia is a victim, she doesn’t want anything to do with any of the Benedetti brothers, I am sure. She’s a pawn. Like I am to Sergio’s enemies.
So she and I, maybe we’re more alike than I think.
Someone slams a fist on what I assume is a desk and I jump. I know it’s Franco when I hear what he says.
