Page 36 of Revenge on the Mafia

Tears burned the back of my eyes. I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Okay.” Why was I trying to take the little joy she had away from her? “I’ll be there soon to see you. You can tell me all about him then.”

“Where are you?”

“New York, Mamá.”

“Why are you there?”

“To continue with my music, Mamá.” I’d lied. Telling that ugly lie again when I couldn’t even bring myself to listen to music twisted my stomach into acid.

“Your papá would have liked that.” Mamá spoke the truth.

He would have, but I feared I’d never be able to touch a piano again. Papá would have hated that. He loved hearing me play. I knew that much.

Her voice dropped, and she whispered to me. “You make sure you don’t get caught, sì?”

“Sì.” Her mind had wandered again.

“He’s brought me a lot of things. Tostada con tomate, churros con chocolate, mollete antequerano…” She listed another ten of her favorite dishes. There was no way she had access to all of those in the institution. Then she hung up. Just like her. No hello. No goodbye.

But it was what I needed. The motivation to get the job done.

This had to end.

That night, my hands didn’t tremble when I wrote in my diary.

La próxima vez que Niccolò Martello se me acerque, lo apuñalaré.

The next time Niccolò Martello comes close to me, I will stab him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

NICO

My brother had his tongue down his wife’s throat. Across the street, a man walking his dog had stopped to gawk. Knowing Enzo, that would be why he did it. He got off on staking his claim. Doing it publicly was an added benefit. I had half a mind to close my front door on his face because a hint of jealousy had brought a sour taste to my mouth. I washed it down with the dry tone of my voice. “Why bother with dinner when you can have tongue?”

Daria squeaked, pulling apart from Enzo, her face red as she struggled to tug her dress down while muttering under her breath, “We didn’t even ring the bell.”

Enzo’s lips twitched with amusement. He pulled her back into his arms and placed his palm on her hip. “Nico’s married to his cameras, principessa. He sees everything.”

My slight amusement melted away. If only he knew.

The rumbling purr of a caged animal rolled down the street. The raw performance of Stefano’s Harley-Davidson V-Rod growled low before dying out. My tiresome brother swung off the low back and swaggered toward us, mischief playing in his gaze.

Daria escaped Enzo’s grasp and rushed to her favorite brother-in-law. He swung her in his arms as if it were the arrival section of an airport and they were seeing each other after a year apart. Enzo’s face filled with distaste. He took a step toward them, then, deciding against it, lit a cigarette instead. If he could, he’d probably burn every man alive to keep his princess to himself.

Stefano delivered a few charming words to her before draping his arm over her shoulders and coming our way.

Enzo scowled. “What the fuck are you grinning about?”

Stefano shrugged. “Your discomfort’s entertaining, Fratello.”

“Fuck off.”

I shook my head from the doorway. The day Stefano was cursed to obsess over a woman, Enzo was going to give it back to him tenfold.

I shifted to let the two walk in, then blocked Enzo’s path. “No smoking.”

He stared at his wife’s disappearing back before puffing directly into my face. “Since when?”