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"A dozen men?" I wince. "Do you think they’re dead?"
"I know they’re dead."
I push my forehead into his back. "I know they were bad men, but still, they may have had families, and children, and—"
"They knew the risk they were taking when they came into this business."
"So, do you and your brothers leave home every day, knowing you might not return?"
"We are… prepared. Several of my brothers are married now, and that complicates things. It’s why Michael wants to try and turn the business legit, in as much as it’s possible to minimize the risks."
"But once you’re in this life, you can’t really walk away, can you?"
"That’s true," he agrees, "but it is possible to bring down the level of uncertainty you deal with every day."
"So, what happened earlier—the number of men you shot, the cars you wrecked—is that not a normal occurrence?"
"It’s not abnormal." He blows out a breath. "Look, I was brought up in the Mafia. This is the life I know. Some of us trained to have a profession beyond it. Like my brother, Massimo is both a qualified finance professional and a lawyer, Xander was an artist, Christian is also a lawyer, Seb is going to start up a media business, and Adrian’s investing his money in a chain of coffeeshops. Michael, my older brother, knew he would become Don one day, while me?
“This is the life I know. The intricacies of this way of living… It runs in my blood. There were no guarantees for me. I wasn’t the oldest, yet something about this lifestyle suits me, you know. I never thought I’d become theCapo. Then Seb gave up his title, and Michael made meCapoin his place."
"So, do you feel all your efforts so far have been worth it?"
"You’d think," he says in a low voice. "You’d think, after everything I’ve seen and done, I’d be ecstatic to finally be recognized for my efforts. But..." He shakes his head. "Becoming aCapodidn’t make a damn difference. It didn’t fill this empty space inside of me. It didn’t feel like a big achievement. There was something anticlimactic about it, andcazzo! Why am I telling you all this?"
He bends over the handlebar and the bike leaps forward.
"It’s okay to share; it’s not going to make you less of a man," I murmur.
He doesn’t reply. We ride in silence for the next hour. I take in the passing fields, the grey clouds in the sky that seem to hang so low. We reach a roundabout with the signs pointing toward St. Ives—signs in English—and that’s when it strikes me. "We’re in the UK?"
"In Cornwall, actually," he clarifies. "But you surmise correctly."
"Oh, my god, they brought us to the UK?"
"It would seem that way," he agrees.
"You don’t seem surprised?"
"Probably because Freddie is from the UK. Though, why he’d bring us here, to the back of beyond, I don’t know. Could’ve saved us some time if they’d decided to keep us in London, but no, they had to choose a place far away from civilization."
"We’re in Cornwall; that’s not exactly uncivilized," I point out.
"It’s not London," he retorts.
"Where did you grow up, anyway?" Not that I am curious or anything, but if I am going to be stuck with him for a while longer, then it's best to know more about him, right?
"I spent some of my early years in Palermo, and before you ask, yes, Italy is excluded from the list of uncivilized places. It’s the cradle of civilization, after all."
"I won’t refute that, but to negate any other city is a bit narrow-minded, don’t you think," I scoff.
"My formative years were spent in LA, so that city’s off the list, too," he declares.
Hmm, I went to drama school in LA, so we do have something in common, not that I am going to tell him that.
Instead, I snort, "Wow, so generous."
"I know, right?"
