It’s been five years. She has every right to have disowned me by now. That is if she’d wanted to.
If I wasn’t her only son, I daresay she would have done it already.
“Amore mio?”
And suddenly, I’m nineteen again, and she’s begging me to stay.
“Hi, mom.”
I hear her gasp, and it takes everything I have not to break apart at the sound. I can picture it perfectly; she’s probably clutching at her chest. Fingers twitch as she struggles to find a purchase. Eyes dart around the room in excitement, looking for someone to share it with her.
“Dante?”
“Yeah.”
“My son, Dante Grasso.”
I already hate where this is going. “That’s me.”
“Impossible,” she tuts with such Italian exasperation it would warm my soul if it wasn’t at my expense. “My son is dead. This is the only reason he has not called me incinque anni.”
I wince at that. “Technically, it’s only been four years and nine months.”
I have to pull the phone away from my ear to save myself from the sheer volume of her curses.
“You cannot do this to me. I am your mother, I have been sick with worry. Sick. You ungrateful boy, I have missed you so. You used to call me wherever you were but you go to America and what are we? Eh? Not worth your time anymore? I’ve been sick, Dante.”
“Have you actually been sick, or are you being dramatic?”
“How would you know!”sShe shrieks. “You do not care to call. You do not ask. I could be dead.”
I pinch at the bridge of my nose in an attempt to hold back the incoming migraine.
“I’m calling because I have a situation, and I need you to help me without asking any questions until I arrive,” I say firmly, cutting off her imminent rant.
The line suddenly goes very quiet.
“You will arrive? Where?” Her tone is suddenly quite chilling. Gone is my mother, arrived is the matriarch.
“Montecroce.”
“When?”
“About ten hours from now. Maybe more,” I say, double-checking the flight times. We need to move quickly if we’re going to make it in time.
There’s more silence that draws out far too long.
“You expect me not to ask questions? You have not been home in a decade, and now…do you bring danger to our door? This is your home, your birthright. Tell me you would not be so foolish.”
We don’t have time for this. “Listen to me carefully. I am coming whether you are prepared for my arrival or not.”
“You will not pass the city gates without my command.”
She’s still the don, still in control. No matter my birthright, she still holds the power.
I grit my teeth. “There is no danger. Only a hostage.”
“Per l’amor del cielo!For heaven’s sake. This is dangerous. We want no part in your American schemes.”
