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As I watched the episode, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Lorenzo.
He was tall, handsome, and powerful. The man could get it, and everyone knew it. But he was also arrogant and obnoxious—making him, most definitely, not my type.
Ma, as if sensing my thoughts, patted my hand. “Don’t worry about your marriage. I hear he kills a good amount of men every month, so he’ll be a husband you can be proud of. Your papà wouldn’t marry you off to anystronzo.”
“Gee, thanks Ma. That makes me feel so much better.”
***
That evening we were sitting around our dinner table: Me, Papà, Ma, Christian, Leoluca, Aunt Priscilla, and also my cousin Benny.
All talk was about the party and engagement contract signing tomorrow. The Italian Mafia was a traditional institution, and our families still followed the custom of signing an engagement contract. The marriage was a formal business arrangement between the Imperiosi and the Fratellanza, and I would be expected to sign the contract along with Lorenzo.
Christian turned to me. “I’m proud of you, Anni.”
“What, for being obedient and marrying him?” I couldn’t help the glum note in my voice.
“Nah, for not killing him when you pulled the gun on him. Lorenzo Marchiano is an annoying fucker sometimes—you showed great restraint.”
“Yeah, well, if I’d had a better aim, then I wouldn’t have to be marrying him now.”
“Just don’t say anythingat allduring the party tomorrow, Annunciata,” ordered Ma. She was one of the few people who insisted on calling me by my full name. “That way, nothing will go wrong.”
Ma consulted the seating plan and then turned to my cousin, Benny. “Benny, you’ll be sitting opposite Annunciata at the party. If she talks, if she says absolutely anything, kick her.”
“Sure thing, Aunt Fantasia,” replied Benny. “Whatever you need, you can count on me.”
I sighed. I was sure I could get through one measly party without incident, but my parents appeared to be taking no chances.
CHAPTER 4
LORENZO
I had fallen into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about the events from one year earlier…
There was blood everywhere, but I knew how to clean it up. All the practice I’d had over the years had made me good at it.
Before I started, I took one last look at the carnage, etching the view of my dead wife’s body in my mind forever as anger scorched my veins.
Then I set to work.
And once it was all clean, it looked like nothing violent or bloody had ever happened in here. My bathroom looked like it always had—clean, tidy, and blood-free.
I ordered a soldier to pick up my son and daughter from my mother’s home. She had been babysitting them today.
Now I had to break the news to them.
When I saw a car pull up outside, I went out to get three-year-old Clara and one-year-old Clemente.
“Dadda,” greeted Clara in her small, shy voice, giving me that special smile of hers. It never failed to touch my heart—I could see in her face her love for me. And I knew that would change after she heard what I had to say.
I scooped them up, one in each arm, relishing the warmth of their tiny bodies as they perched against my cold body.
I brought them inside and sat them down next to me on the couch. They both had my dark hair and my brown eyes—and now those eyes were solemn as if they sensed something might be amiss.
I explained to them in the best way I could that their mother was dead.
Clemente was too young to understand, and as soon as I had finished speaking, he toddled off to play with his toy cars.
