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“You know I’m madly in love with him, but he’s not in line to be Caputo, so my father won’t even entertain it. I just sneak around and see him that way.”
“You live a fascinating life, Marta,” I say, and she snorts.
“I don’t know about that.”
I get up unsteadily and make us another drink and we chat about men and our family lives and what we’ve recently purchased. I give Marta a little tour around the house.
“We should go skinny dipping,” she suggests, and I grin at her.
“You’re reading my mind,” I tell her, and we jump into the pool nude, laughing and splashing each other.
I have a great time with Marta, and I certainly drink too much. She passes out in the guestroom after a while and I’m not tired, so I sit down on the couch, watching television.
It hasn’t occurred to me what time it is, but it’s pretty late, and Dante still isn’t home. I can’t be angry with him about it – I know that Dante has a lot of late nights.
But I can’t help but wonder – what if he’s with Felicia? What if he’s kissing her right now? Lying her down on her bed?
The thought of it makes my stomach feel sick, and I lie down on the couch. I think that I’ll probably never get to sleep, at least until Dante gets home, but between the alcohol and the travel fatigue, I drift off quickly.
I dream about Dante lying next to a buxom blonde, holding her in his arms.
13
DANTE
Imake it home before midnight and I’m hoping that Mia is awake and tipsy because I know she’ll be frisky. I’ve been thinking about her all night, about that row of marks I left on her neck, how I want her to show them off.
I know that I was cold to her this morning, but all day I’ve been talking to Felicia. She’s been taking the news that I’m breaking it off hard, and drinking too much. It can’t be helped, but she’s a friend and I want her to be okay.
Finally, I just deleted her number and told her it was over, and she hasn’t contacted me again. Maybe she got it through her head.
I tried my best to let her down easy, after all.
When I pull into the garage, I see Marta’s car already in there, and assume they’re having a sleepover.
I walk into the house and Mia is sleeping on the couch, her hair damp. She's wearing a pair of yoga shorts and one of my T-shirts and she smells like vodka.
I smile, crouching near her and brushing her auburn hair from her face. “Mia,” I say softly, and she groans and rolls over.
I pick up her arm and let it fall back down. She’s out, so all my plans to make love to her tonight are out the window.
I chuckle and scoop her up into my arms. She has the presence of mind to wrap her arms around my neck and bury her face into my chest. It makes my heart feel warm, and then an immediate feeling of guilt washes through me.
She isn’t her father. I hate that I’m playing with her feelings like this, but it can’t be helped.
Can it?
I walk upstairs and put her in the master bedroom, covering her up. I plan to crawl in next to her right after I undress, but as soon as I start to unbutton my shirt, my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“It’s Vincenzo,” the voice on the other end of the line says.
“Gallo? What’s up?”
I don’t talk to Vincenzo Gallo much, but his father was an ally to my father. The Gallos and the Riccis have been on good terms for decades, and so I trust him.
“I heard gunshots out by one of your businesses. The dry-cleaning place?”
