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The nave of the church is empty when I walk in, except for the balding, black-robed priest sitting on the front pew. Father Donahue stands when I walk in, one eyebrow raised as he sees me walking towards him.
“No matter how many times I see you, Luca, it’s always startling not to see the little boy I remember.” He grips my hand when I extend it, covering our grasped hands with his other as he looks up at me. He’s grown bent over the years, what hair he has left grey, but his dark eyes are still sharp and piercing as ever.
“I’m not a child anymore,” I say curtly, taking a seat next to him in the pew. “And I’m not interested in a lecture today, Father.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” he says wryly, sitting down gingerly once again. “But you know what I think about all of this.”
“Actually, I don’t. But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“I was the one that witnessed the vow between Giovanni Ferretti and your father all those years ago, Luca. I know as well as you do what Giovanni wanted for his daughter. But he extracted that promise because he saw no other way of keeping her safe.”
“And I’m marrying her because there’s no other way of keeping her safe.” My voice is flat, completely without emotion. “I’m not sure what it is that you think I should be doing.”
“No other way?” Father Donahue tilts his head, looking at me with those sharp, keen eyes. “Nowhere that you could send her, no way to keep her safe in that fortress you live in, other than to make her your bride? Force her into your bed?”
The last part stings. “I may not live a life of celibacy like you, Father, but I’ve never forced a woman. I don’t intend to start with my new bride.”
“So Sofia is willing?”
“Sofia and I have come to—an arrangement.” It’s all I can say without revealing that I’ve made concessions to my future wife that Rossi would lose his head over. A priest is supposed to be able to be trusted with secrets, but Rossi has ways of getting secrets from men that could gain him the nuclear codes, if he wanted them.
Father Donahue looks unconvinced. “I can’t imagine that Sofia is pleased with any part of your ‘arrangements.’ And this wedding is taking place faster than I can condone. Even Sofia’s confirmation—”
“I can’t keep her safe otherwise,” I say sharply, cutting him off. “I know you think that I should be able to find a way, but there isn’t one, Father. Rossi’s solution is to have her killed. Easy, neat, no fuss. Then the Bratva wouldn’t be able to get their hands on her, and I wouldn’t be wrestling with a reluctant bride. One person fighting me on this is enough, Father, I don’t need you to stand in my way too.”
“I’ve already agreed to perform the marriage, on the basis of my friendship with both your father and hers, if nothing else,” Father Donahue says quietly. “I’ve been loyal to the Rossi family for many decades, Luca, ever since I was spared in the Irish purge, and the Italians took the city again. I was left alone with my church and my faith and my place here, and I have not forgotten it. But there are some sins that I cannot absolve, Luca. You know that as well as I do. You haven’t left the confessional with absolution in many years.”
“I know.” The words come out hard and biting. “It’s the life I lead, Father. I’ve never had any choice in the matter. You know that.”
Father Donahue shrugs. “There is always a choice.” He pauses, looking at me thoughtfully. “I wonder, if Giovanni knew the kind of man you would grow up to be, if he would have promised his daughter to you?”
The words sting unexpectedly. “I’ve tried to do my best within the confines of the life I was born into,” I say tightly. “I’ve never hurt a man beyond what was necessary to find out what I needed to know. I’ve never killed someone out of anger—in fact, I’ve never laid a hand on anyone, man or woman, out of anything but necessity.”
“Yes. Business.” Father Donahue shakes his head. “It’s a difficult life you lead, Luca. So many ways that you have to justify the blood on your hands, so many codes and rules to make sure that you can sleep at night.”
“I sleep just fine,” I say stiffly. “Often with a woman on either side of me. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Father?”
The priest smiles. “No. I wouldn’t. But I would not trade lives with you for all the pleasure and all the luxury in the world, my son. I think one day you may understand why.” He takes a deep breath, looking across the nave at the altar, the crucifix, and the unlit lantern behind it. His gaze turns back to mine, and he holds it for a long moment, until I want to shift uncomfortably in my seat. I don’t, but I can’t help but feel that he’s looking into my very soul, that he can see something there that even I can’t.
“For Sofia Ferretti’s sake,” he says softly, “I hope you do.”
He stands, looking down at me, and something in his face makes my chest tighten. I’ve never been afraid of anything, but there’s some knowledge in his expression, almost a foreshadowing that sends a tremor of what I imagine is fear through me.
“I’ll bless your wedding and perform it, for Giovanni,” Father Donahue says, in that same quiet voice. “And I’ll turn my face away from all that you and the Rossi family does, as I have for decades. But if ever the day comes that you wish to truly atone, Luca Romano, you know where I am.”
He turns to walk past the pews then, disappearing into the dark, cavernous arches of the nave. And I sit there for a long moment, the weight of everything I’ve ever done suddenly falling heavy on my shoulders, all at once.
* * *
I go backto the penthouse afterwards, instead of my office. I don’t know why, exactly, except that I know Sofia won’t be there, and I want the peace that it offers while it’s empty.
But when I walk through the front door, the silence feels almost oppressive.
Almost—lonely.
There’s no reason for me to miss her. No reason for me to wonder how her appointment is going—for awedding dress, of all things, why on Earth would I give a shit about that—to wonder if I’ll see her when she comes back or if she’ll just lock herself in her room after the way the conversation went down last night.
No reason for me to almost regret that I hadn’t taken her up on her offer of dinner last night.
