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The woman sitting beside Celia spoke up then, her voice laced with cynicism. “Who is this girl? How’d she know Vincenzo?”
“This is Carmine’s, uh . . .” Celia trailed off. “Well, Mom, this is Haven Antonelli. She’s—”
“Antonelli? You mean that little slave girl?”
People cringed and gasped, shaking their heads and muttering under their breath from secondhand embarrassment, but Haven just nodded. “That’s me.”
“I’ll be damned.” The woman surveyed her. “I guess we can’t really call you that, though, can we? No, Federica’s grandbaby isn’t a slave. She’s family.”
Dozens of eyes shot straight to the woman at those words, a deathly silence falling over the room.
“What did you say, Gia?” Corrado asked, blinking with shock.
“I said she’s Federica’s grandbaby,” Gia replied. “What, you didn’t know?”
“No, I knew, but how did you?”
Gia waved him off. “Antonio told me ages ago. He was planning to kill that Salamander when he found out, but he never got the chance. God got to my husband first, I guess.”
Corrado gaped at her. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“You never asked,” Gia said, shrugging. “Besides, you all think I’m crazy, anyway. Would you have believed me?”
A minute of tense silence passed before Corrado shook his head. “No, I probably wouldn’t have.”
40
I fucking love you.”
The words still echoed in Carmine’s head an hour later. Could it be that easy? He wanted to believe it, wanted to give in, but he was still conflicted. He couldn’t be positive he could keep her safe or be the man she deserved. He struggled to function on his own, and the last thing he wanted to do was drag her down with him. He would never forgive himself if he got her hurt.
Carmine glanced away from Haven, sighing as he considered that, and noticed Corrado watching him with a peculiar look on his face. His penetrating stare burned through him, painful and raw, a bit of pity lingering behind the obvious judgment. Carmine stared back, their eyes connecting for only a few seconds, but it felt as if an eternity passed under the scrutiny of his gaze.
A phone rang then and Carmine breathed a sigh of relief when his uncle looked away. Corrado pulled out the phone, silencing the ringing before casually slipping it back into his pocket. He sat unmoving for a moment, his expression vacant and shoulders relaxed, but Carmine could tell from the way he flexed his fingers at his side that he was stressed.
And Corrado on edge was never good for anybody.
He draped his arm over Celia’s shoulder and pulled her closer, whispering something in her ear. She tensed as she listened, glancing past him to where Carmine stood by the door. When he saw her worry, every ounce of relief he had felt a moment before washed away. Something was going on, and based on Celia’s expression, whatever Corrado had planned most likely concerned him.
Carmine wasn’t surprised. As long as Salvatore was still out there, somewhere, his life was at risk. Glancing at Haven again, his paranoia flared. They had fought to keep her out of the line of fire, and she had unknowingly walked right onto the battlefield.
He stood there for another minute, his unease growing until it all got to be too much. He slipped out of the room quietly, desperate for a drink, hoping it would help him clear the convoluted thoughts from his head. He ducked outside, surveying the streets quickly for any sign of trouble, but someone called his name before he could get more than a few steps away. Carmine froze at the sound of the voice and glanced behind him, seeing Corrado following.
“You’re leaving without saying anything? Where are you going?”
Carmine sighed as his uncle paused beside him on the sidewalk. “Home.”
“Home?” Corrado shook his head. “As many times as I speak to you about your behavior, you’d think it would sink in by now! You have absolutely no respect for your family. You treat them as if they’re disposable to you. Do you even care what they’re going through right now? Your father’s dead!”
Carmine scoffed defensively, words flying from his mouth as he lost his temper. “Yeah, because of you.”
Corrado’s eyes darkened. He grabbed Carmine before he could utter another word and slammed him back against the brick house. Clutching his throat tightly, Corrado pinned him there, cutting off the flow of air. Carmine desperately grasped at his large hands, trying to pry them off as he struggled to breathe, but Corrado’s grip was too strong.
“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t ever speak to me like that again,” Corrado said, his voice low and laced with venom. “Your family is in enough pain right now. Don’t make me give them another reason to grieve.”
He let go and took a few steps back as Carmine bent over, gasping for air. “What the fuck?” he spat, his eyes burning with tears. Corrado stepped forward again and Carmine flew upright immediately, holding his hands up defensively. “Christ, I didn’t mean it! I, uh . . . I’m sorry, okay?”
