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Clara sat very still as she listened carefully to me. Although she was having difficulty understanding what I was saying, she could sense from my tone that something was very wrong. She clung to me, holding tightly onto my arms with her small, chubby hands, and asked in a small voice, “When Momma come back?” Her big brown eyes brimmed with fear.
“Momma isn’t coming back,” I said.
As I looked at Clara and Clemente and watched the wretched tears tumble from my daughter’s eyes, my heart clenched with guilt.
I had taken their mother away from them.
I was a monster.
I woke up with a start. It took me a moment to realize that I was in my bedroom. I sat up and checked the clock. It was only 3 a.m., and later today would be the engagement party.
I collapsed back onto my pillows. I had been dreaming of that day again: the last day of Rita’s life.
I let out a sound of frustration. Nothing had been the same since that day.
The only things I wanted in life now were to be successful at my work and to raise my children. I certainly didn’t need any other complications in my life. And that’s what Anni was: a complication.
But I knew it was too late to change my mind—the success of the alliance was what mattered.
I hated how much my life had changed since Rita’s death. Clara had withdrawn into her shell and now rarely spoke. I hadn’t seen her smile once since that day. Instead, there had been tears: so many tears and so much grief.
And it was all my fault.
ANNUNCIATA
It was the day of the engagement party.
Before I had to play the role of a dutiful Mafia daughter tonight, I had most of the day free—and I intended to make the most of it.
I was due to play a game of tennis with friends, and I’d also planned to sneak over to my cousins’ house to watch the latest season of ‘Jersey Shore’. My siblings and I had been forbidden from watching this, my parents fearing that we would be corrupted by the antics of the party-loving American-Italians on this reality show.
Ma’s biggest fear was that I’d turn into the opposite of what a good Mafia daughter should be: obedient, well-behaved, and demure. Ma most definitely didn’t know that I had secretly watched all the past seasons. Quite honestly, their lives, as portrayed on the show, looked relatively tame compared to what went on in my household.
LORENZO
I arrived in Staten Island. It was early evening, and the party wouldn’t start for another hour; however, I had arrived earlier than the rest of my family for the signing of the engagement contract.
Marco and some other members of our family would be arriving in about an hour. Clara and Clemente wouldn’t be here today—I wanted them to have some time to get used to the whole idea of the marriage before introducing them to Anni.
Napoleone greeted me in his mansion. “Welcome, Lorenzo. You’re right on time. I’ve got the engagement contract set out in the dining room, and it’s all ready for your and Anni’s signatures.”
I looked around and frowned. “Talking of the bride-to-be, where exactly is she?”
“She was spending the afternoon at the country club.” He gave a small frown. “She should have been back by now. No matter, I will get a soldier to show you to her, and you can both sign the contract in your own time.”
For fuck’s sake. The girl knew that we were signing the contract at five o’clock. Instead, I was having to go find her and drag her ass back to the house to get her fucking signature.
Her father didn’t even seem to care that his daughter had failed to show up on time for the contract signing. She seriously needed some discipline in her life—and I knew I would be the one to give it to her.
A soldier walked me to the clubhouse.
As we approached, I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but I certainly hadn’t expected to find her on the tennis courts, acting as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
She was wearing a pure white, sleeveless tennis dress, and her blonde hair was pulled into a short ponytail which bounced from side to side as she ran around the court.
Sweat glistened around her neck, and lean muscle flexed in her long legs as she stretched into a backhand.
I narrowed my eyes, not liking how she was dressed. The dress made her look virginal and was an unwelcome reminder of how much younger she was—plus it reminded me of that fucking stupid white cat outfit she was wearing the day she tried to kill me.
