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Vinicius gives me a sly smile. “What else, kitten?”
He passes Camillo over to Cassius, who gives the baby a stern look. “Bambino, you be good and respectful to your mother and grow up big and strong like your Uncle Cassius.” Then he smiles and kisses the baby’s head. “Bravo ragazzo.”Good boy.
Lorenzo has come up beside him and reaches for the baby. From the bed, Ginevra makes a strangled noise.
A wall slams down behind Lorenzo’s eyes and he drops his arms and steps back.
I glance between the two of them. “Ginevra? Can Lorenzo hold the baby?”
“Don’t worry about it, princess,” Lorenzo mutters.
An awkward silence stretches while everyone exchanges glances and doesn’t know what to say. Ginevra is looking between Lorenzo and me, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“You call her princess?” she asks.
“Yeah. What about it?”
She plays with the blanket covering her legs. “It just doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”
“Ginevra, you don’t know me.”
I wish Ginevra could see the Lorenzo I see. He’s not a dangerous tattooed gangster who enjoys hurting people. The tattoos covering his body are a tribute to his sister, and he saves just as many lives as he takes.
“I guess, but we’re not strangers, either,” Ginevra points out. “Do you remember the last time we were in the same room?”
Lorenzo glances at Salvatore and back at his sister, his jaw tight. “Yeah. You just got back from Naples. You were twelve or something.”
“Thirteen. You came to our house smelling of blood and wearing ripped jeans. You looked…crazy. I think you were drunk.”
That must have been when Ginevra returned to Coldlake just after the Black Orchid Murders.
“Sounds about right. I was drunk for months on end back then.”
“You and Salvatore were talking business and I was hanging around him because I was lonely and scared. You roared at me to get the eff out of your sight. I was just a child. I don’t think you like children very much.”
Lorenzo shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs, his eyes turning cold and avoiding her gaze. He’s a fraction of a second from storming out.
I go over and put a hand on his arm. “I know that’s not true. Were you upset about something that day?”
“She reminded me of someone I didn’t want to remember.”
Salvatore gazes at his sister, and says softly, “She does look a lot like Ophelia.”
“You were wearing yellow that day, just like she was. In the video,” he finishes.
Ginevra’s mistrustful expression changes to shock, and then finally to sadness. “Oh, I never…” She swallows. “Knew. The details, I mean. Salvatore told me what you did for her.”
The tension goes out of Lorenzo’s shoulders as he realizes Ginevra understands. He didn’t watch those videos to be a hero or for the sake of the syndicate. He watched them for their sisters, hunting for clues that might tell him their killer’s identity.
But it didn’t work. All Lorenzo got was a head full of horror that’s been with him ever since.
“How did you get past everything you saw? You’re not drunk now, I’m guessing.”
Lorenzo finally meets her eyes. “That’s my business.”
Ginevra gives him a tentative smile. “Of course, I’m sorry. Please hold the baby, Lorenzo. You’re going to be like an uncle to him, too.”
Cassius walks over to Lorenzo, who gazes at the baby, the anger melting from his face. He takes Camillo from Cassius and cradles him in his tattooed forearms. When he touches the baby’s hand with a forefinger, Camillo wraps his tiny hand around Lorenzo’s finger.
