“Do not say that word.”
“Have sexwithanyone I want if I’m discreet. You didn’t specify Matteo was out of the ‘anyone’.Why are you discriminating against the Bonafedes? That’s not very kind.”
He blinked at me, his mouth opening but not speaking, and a wave of triumph rolled over me. He didn’t have anything to say. For once, he didn’t have an answer, or at least one he wanted to say.
I’d won this one.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, but Adriano didn’t seem to care. He simply carried on clicking away at his laptop like this was normal, and I wondered how much of their time was spent in silence.
“What time are we expected?” Milan said, keeping his eye on me as he changed the subject.
“Any time,” Adriano replied, not taking his eyes from the screen. “It’s not like he keeps particularly busy.”
“Where are you going?” I asked instantly.
Adriano snapped, “Nowhere” at the same time as Milan said, “The Outfit.”
A look passed between them, one that said I certainly wasn’t invited, but I was surprised.
The Chicago Outfit wasn’t exactly theCosa Nostra’s enemy, but they weren’t well-liked amongst theFamigliafor their worse reputation than my father’s. Matteo had once told me that they specialized in brothels and strip clubs and had worked with my father on some occasions, but generally, they were sleazy people who cut corners at the expense of the women they used. I had no idea who the Capo was, but he couldn’t be good news.
“We are going to see Francesco Carbone. The Capo dei Capi of the Outfit,” Milan announced like it was a fun outing.
The name hit me as he said it.
Francesco, like the Francesco that Adriano had ordered around the night of the wedding?
The Francesco who wore the same earring in his ear that Adriano did around his neck?
ThatFrancesco?
If that was true, Adriano and the head of the Outfit had been together,alone, on the upper floor of the church when I’d run to find help.That was certainly not something Milan would be thrilled about.
Was Adriano a threat to theFamiglia? Scheming behind Milan’s back?
Surely I had a duty to say something to my husband, or if not my husband, my Capo dei Capi.
As if to remind me of that fact, the faded tattoo on Milan’s chest glared at me from across the room, screaming of betrayal. It was a branding, a bloody knife with the Lucca family name wrapped around it like a ribbon.
I didn’t really care about Milan knowing Adriano’s secrets, but he was so shrouded in his own that I couldn’t help but wonder what punishment he’d dole out on me if I didn’t tell him.
I tried not to turn my head, only my eyes, but I could see Adriano doing the same, and it just looked like two people with stiff necks. From the corner of my eye, I saw his deep swallow. It was harsh, painful even, and so very hiding something.
“I want to come with you,” I announced, straightening my posture in the seat.
If Adriano was hiding something, I wasn’t going to let Milan go alone, find out, and let Adriano throw me under the bus for knowing about it.
My husband frowned. “Why?”
“Yeah, Sicily,” Adriano echoed in a growl. “Why?”
“Because it’s important to show that I support my loving, caring”—Milan scrunched his nose, his entire face committing to the disgust—“talented husband, isn’t it?”
He stared at me intently, only rising to his feet when his ogling drifted down my body. “The jet leaves in one hour and I will leave you here if you are late, Sicily.”
The room grew stale the moment Milan was gone. I stood to leave, no longer comfortable in Adriano’s presence until I knew what he was hiding.
“Sicily,” Adriano called, halting me by the door. “What are you doing?”
