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“No,” Carmine said. Corrado’s eyes narrowed at his response, and he realized it sounded like he was trying to be difficult. “I mean the answer is no.”
Corrado motioned toward Vincent. “Continue then.”
Vincent took a deep breath. “We need to talk about what you saw in my safe.”
Carmine wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the truth spoken out loud, but he motioned for his father to continue. For the next twenty minutes, Vincent rattled on about underground wars and all of the lives that had been destroyed, the devastation evident once the smoke cleared. Although Carmine wasn’t surprised, the words still managed to make his hair stand on end. “She’s Mafia royalty?”
Vincent nodded.
“Do you understand the seriousness of the situation?” Corrado asked. “Although your father means well, he’s doing the same thing Frankie did—he’s knowingly holding Mafiosi blood in his possession. I’m going to do everything I can to contain this, but there’s a chance it’ll be exposed. And when that happens, we’re all going to be in danger . . . especially you and her.”
“Why us especially?”
“Because your father and I would be killed, Carmine,” Corrado said. “You’d become pawns.”
He was quiet, letting it all sink in. “Something doesn’t make sense to me. Why would Frankie risk his life keeping the kid? Why not sell Haven? He didn’t care about her.”
“We can’t know for certain,” Corrado said, “but Monica Antonelli wasn’t stable. She was, uh . . .” He waved his hand as if to think of a word. “. . . fuori come un balcone. It was the reason they moved to the desert. Rest, they called it. Rehabilitation from a mental breakdown, but she never recovered. I think Frankie took advantage of an unfortunate situation to try to help his wife. No one would ever suspect it, and he lived so far away she wouldn’t be seen by anyone who could recognize her.”
“Plus, no one keeps small children for labor,” Vincent added. “You can’t have a toddler washing dishes or cooking meals. No one would’ve considered she had been sold and not killed because of that. Child slaves end up one place, and they may have broken conduct and murdered innocents, but some things were still off limits to us all.”
Carmine sighed. He had a lot to think about. “Is that all? Can I go?”
Corrado snickered. “He may barge in, but at least he has enough sense to wait to be dismissed.”
“Not always,” Vincent said. “Sometimes he just walks out.”
* * *
The next morning, Haven made breakfast while Carmine sat off to the side, watching her. She’d have moments where she was herself, laughing and being playful, but as soon as Corrado came near, it slipped away. She moved around him like there was magnetic polarity, always keeping a certain amount of distance from him.
It reminded Carmine of his mom, that fact not helping to brighten his mood. Nostalgic, the sorrow and longing crept in, bringing him down. It wasn’t his graduation and he felt cheated.
Carmine filled a flask with vodka before they set off for the school. He pulled the Mazda into the parking lot and got out as Haven nervously looked around. “Relax, hummingbird. We’re only here to help my brother bid high school farewell.”
“I just don’t want to embarrass you.”
He put his arm around her. “You’ll never embarrass me.”
“What if I fall down the stairs in front of everyone?”
“You won’t be walking down any stairs.”
“Well, I don’t need stairs. What if I just fall?”
“You won’t. I’ll hold you up.”
“What if I take you down with me?”
“You think you can take me down?” he asked playfully. “I guess I fall, then. Hate to break it to you, but that won’t embarrass me.”
She huffed. “What if I get hiccups and interrupt graduation?”
“If that happens, I’ll probably laugh, but whatever. You still aren’t gonna embarrass me.”
“But what if . . .”
By the time Haven was done asking her questions, they were safely seated in the back of the auditorium. Everyone settled and the ceremony started, the graduating class making their way in. Haven watched with wide eyes. As ridiculous as it all was to him, it was significant to her. She’d never gotten to experience high school.
