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It’s been seven weeks since that terrible night. My back is healed, and now, twenty-four lines mark it. My age. It doesn’t mean anything, though.
I don’t know what Giovanni did to my brother. I don’t ask, and he doesn’t tell. I don’t know what he did to those other men either, but I know they’re all dead now. The women he released. He kept his promise and didn’t lay a finger on them.
I look over at him, squeeze his hand. I was wrong when I told him he wasn’t good. He is. In his own way.
“You did the right thing,” he says to me once we’re in the car.
“You were right. I just didn’t want to see it.”
“I have some meetings in Italy next week. I want you to come with me,” he says as we head into the city. “After the funeral. Let’s just get out of here. Take a break.”
I look over at him. “Like a vacation?” It’s strange. We’re talking like we’re a normal couple or something.
“Yeah, sort of. I need to meet with some of the local men who worked for my father.”
“Worked?”
“They work for me now. There were some mixed loyalties. I want to be sure everyone is on the same page.”
I know it’s not as civilized as that.
“Can I ask you what happened with your father?” I’m cautious when I bring it up. All I know is Giovanni paid him a visit a few weeks ago. When he came back, he seemed different. Not as angry or something.
He studies me. “Let’s leave that between him and me. You don’t need to know that part of my life.”
“It’s part of my life if I’m with you.”
He smiles, like he likes what I said. “You’re clean, Emilia. I plan on keeping you that way. You’ll come with me to Calabria.”
“I have a job, you know.”
“You can take time off. I want you there.”
I study him, and he studies me back. As much as I pretend to be annoyed by it, I like his dominance. It makes me feel safe.
“I’ve never been to Italy.”Epilogue 2GiovanniThe trip to Calabria is a necessary one. It’s not a vacation, not for me. And this place, there are memories here. Ghosts of the past.
When I met with my father after things settled down for Emilia, I learned some things. Amazing what you can get out of a man who is desperate to keep all his limbs—and for the record, he didn’t. Because he needed to learn once and for all. Because being made to sit in a fucking wheelchair didn’t teach him.
I need to be here to settle some rumblings, cement loyalties. Not everyone was happy about how I took over the Santa Maria family. My father can spin an incredible tale, and his lies turned many against me.
My father had been head of the Santa Maria family until shortly after Franco Benedetti’s death. In fact, it was soon after he pledged our allegiance to Dominic Benedetti that I learned the truth about Angelica. That letter she wrote me before she jumped, he’d taken it. Hidden it. But he should have destroyed it.
She’d reached out for help, and when I hadn’t come, she’d assumed I’d abandoned her too. That’s why she’d killed herself. And it makes it doubly my father’s fault.
When I learned the truth years after her death, it took me right back to that time.
But I avenged her by putting him in that wheelchair. By taking his family from him. By taking everything from him and leaving him powerless.
Now I’ll be sure to put an end to anyone who challenges my authority, both in the States and in Italy. I’m not a good man. I know who I am, and I don’t pretend to be anyone else. But I’m not a liar. I don’t steal souls, and I don’t hurt innocents.
“This is so beautiful,” Emilia says. She’s sitting beside me as we ride up the rocky, narrow road to my house. The house is situated on a steep cliff a little outside of Tropea with spectacular views of the sea.
“It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world.” I take the turns easily, driving a little faster than I probably should, but liking it. I spend most of my time in the States, but my heart is here.
The house comes into view a few minutes later, an ancient stone structure. It’s huge and has been in my family for generations. It’s always passed on to the first-born male heir. Sexist, I know, but these are the rules and there is enough money to go around.
“Wow.”
I glance over at Emilia. She’s got her face plastered to the window, taking in everything she can. The sun is high. She’s wearing a pretty summer dress and flip-flops and to anyone looking on, we’re a normal couple here on vacation.
