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I bet he would kill a real cat if given half a chance, I thought to myself. He looked like the type who got off on hurting poor innocent souls.
My papà might have trusted him, but I certainly didn’t.
LORENZO
I glared at the girl dressed up in a fluffy white cat outfit.
She’d removed the head of the costume when her papà appeared, and her tousled white-blonde hair was styled into two short braids around a face that was free of make-up. Her doe-like green eyes gave her a softness that belied the feistiness I’d just witnessed in her.
We heard the front door open and then footsteps in the hallway before female voices wafted through the house toward us.
A lady wearing a leather mini-skirt and low-cut red top tottered into the backyard on the highest of heels, chewing gum as she made her way toward Napoleone, loudly asking what was going on. We all still had our weapons drawn, although they were now at our sides rather than aimed.
Napoleone started to explain to her what had happened.
“Is that hooker her mother?” I murmured to Marco in horror.
“Nope. That’s her Aunt Priscilla.” Marco kept his voice low. “That other woman, Fantasia Veneti, is her mother.” He nodded toward another woman who had just stepped into the backyard.
The mother had an over-ample figure which was clad in a black dress. She also wore ridiculously large gold earrings and carried an enormous black purse. I couldn’t stop my eyes from staring at her shock of carrot-colored hair, which seemed to be a dye job’s bad attempt at a shade of auburn. At least the tacky mom was a slight improvement on the trashy aunt.
Jesus fucking Christ. This family was supposed to be rolling in money, yet they all dressed like trash, hookers, or cats.
What ensued was a conversation on how to make right what had just happened. Soldiers from both the Fratellanza and Imperiosi had witnessed the whole incident.
“It’s a sign of utter disrespect toward the Fratellanza for your daughter to have fired at my Underboss,” growled Marco. He was beyond pissed, and his infamous short temper did not bode well for the future of this alliance.
“I can assure you that Anni meant no disrespect,” Napoleone blustered, the girl standing at his side. “It is all a big misunderstanding. She never meant to fire the gun or hurt anyone.”
“Like hell she didn’t,” I said tersely.
“Whatever she meant, the fact is that she did shoot at one of my Underbosses.” Marco’s tone was severe. “You know that can’t go unpunished.”
“To punish her would be too harsh,” Napoleone wheedled. “Why not have a marriage between our families instead, as a gesture of goodwill and to solidify the alliance? Anni can marry into your family, and we can demonstrate to our respective organizations that all is well between our families.”
Anni’s eyes widened as she heard her father’s suggestion, but thankfully the girl kept her mouth shut.
I could see Marco considering the idea before he looked at me. “She should marry you, Lorenzo. That will show our men that she’s been brought under control and tamed by us.”
I stared at my Capo like he had suddenly grown two heads. “I’m not sure the girl is tameable.” I curled my lip. “She’s like a wildcat.”
Marco turned to our host. “Lorenzo and I need to talk privately if we are to consider such a marriage.”
“Of course, I understand completely. Use the drawing room. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you there.”
***
We made our way to the drawing room.
As soon as the doors were closed, I turned to Marco. “There’s no way in hell I’m marrying that girl. She’s not wife material.”
“If she’s married off to you, she’ll have to settle down and stop messing around,” said Marco. “Being a wife, plus raising a two-year-old and a four-year-old, will be no walk in the park for her.” Marco looked at me with a hard look in his eyes. “Lorenzo, you need a wife. Rita has been dead for over a year.”
What he really meant was that some people thought I still wasn’t over my dead wife, and that made me look weak in the eyes of my men. And he was right that I wasn’t over what had happened. Fury still raced through me every time I thought about Rita.
I sighed inwardly. I was thirty years old, a widower, and I was raising two children by myself.
My mother now helped with looking after the children. Even still, being a single dad was more work than I’d ever imagined. I was muddling through the physical side of looking after them day-to-day, but I had no idea of how to deal with the emotional side of helping the kids through their mother’s death, nor how to banish my own demons.
