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“Romeo’s sending you two to Tuscany?”
“Yes, Mama.” I gently pry her hands off my arms and head to the stairs. “Why?”
She sighs and looks quickly from me to Emma. “I’ve barely even gotten to know her, Mario!”
Emma blinks in surprise.
“Mama!” I tell her in Italian that Emma’s our prisoner and not to get her hopes up but she only winks at me and chuckles under her breath as she leaves the room.
I head upstairs and Emma yanks on my arm. “What did she just say?”
“She’s never seen me a bring a woman home before. She thinks it means something.” I shake my head and laugh. “She’s always trying to get us to pair up with someone. Always wants another daughter. Don’t worry, babe, I told her it isn’t like that with us.”
Emma slows her steps but doesn’t respond, then she forces out a hollow laugh. “Oh, right. Glad you cleared that up.”
I pack a quick bag for myself and one for her. We don’t talk while we pack. She straightens every wrinkle in every article of clothing, smoothing them out as if trying to reassure herself that everything’s perfect. I remind myself she’s a perfectionist, it’s just who she is. But something feels off.
We head downstairs to where a car’s waiting for us. Nonna meets us at the door.
“Biscotti!” she explains, pushing a large, foil-covered package into Emma’s hands. “Mangia!”
Marialena waves from the landing, and my oldest sister Rosa holds Natalia’s hand at the stairway, holding her back from running over to us. There’s a sense of urgency to our departure, and I’m eager to hear what Romeo has to say about it.
I open the door and gesture for Emma to get into the car.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks, gnawing on her lip. “I… feel like this is a really drastic thing to do.”
“I’m sure. Get in,” I order. “Now.”
Her eyes narrow on me, but she does what I tell her. I get a call from Romeo just as the door shuts.
“You have to talk to her.”
I start responding in Italian so she doesn’t understand. A shitty move, maybe, but I may need to ease her in.
He sighs on his end. “Her workplace was ransacked last night. Her boss is MIA. No one knows where he is or what’s happened.”
“Probably in the fucking hospital,” I mutter, still in Italian.
“We checked all the hospitals within a fifty-mile radius and he ain’t there.”
I blow out a breath. “And?”
“Her office is a mess. Her home, the same. Someone’s after her, and they’re not gonna stop, Mario. Not if this is a personal vendetta from another group like ours, her boss, or all of the above.”
“Right. Got it. So you want me to keep her safe and take her to Tuscany…”
“Because while she’s there, I think we should fake her death.”
I blink. “What?”
“It’s the safest choice.”
“Safest choice for who?”
She gives me a quizzical look, still not understanding anything I’ve said. I give her a forced smile.
“All good?” she asks.
“All good,” I lie.
“So break her in to the idea. We fake her death. She leaves the old Emma behind and joins us. If she’s on the hit list for another crime ring and they find out she’s with us, you know what that means, brother.”
I sigh. “I do.” It means war. More death. It means weeks, if not months, of violence and fighting and innocent loss of life. We can’t have that.
Faking a death isn’t permanent, but it can have permanent results. Whether or not she goes back to who she was will be up to her.
“Break it to her. Give her the options.”
“Which are, just so we’re clear—”
“Fake her death and join our mob. Or face the punishment for betraying us.”
Going back to life as she knew it is no longer an option.
“Right. I will. Report back, Rome.”
I hang up the phone and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie again. “No more talking to your apprentice, okay? No more today. Check in with her later, but not today.”
“Okayyyy,” she says reluctantly. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you in a little bit.” I lean in and slide my hand along the small of her back. “Come here. We’ve got hours together. And I think that’s plenty of time to pick up where we left off.”
“Pick up where we left off and then some,” she says with a grin, when her phone rings in quick succession, three times. Her body stills.
“I’m sorry, I need to get that.”
I nod and pull away but keep my hand on her lower back.
“Oh. Oh my God.” Her hand covers her mouth. “Mario.”
“What is it?” I feel my body tighten, bracing for whatever news she has to tell me. Ready to defend her, to fly this fuckin’ jet myself, if necessary to keep her safe.
“The club we went to last night? Bombed,” she breathes.
