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Antonio was Carolinne’s brother and worked for us in the organization. He looked at us somewhat apologetically. “Sorry for the intrusion, Capo,” he said, as he fiddled with his car keys. “But my grandmother said she needed me to bring her to see you and that it couldn’t wait.” I could tell he felt uncomfortable being involved in what would no doubt be an awkward conversation regarding his sister and Danio.
“Please come in,” welcomed Marco, remarkably keeping his calm for once.
Antonio moved to come inside with his grandmother, but she shooed him off. “I don’t need you for this part—I can speak for myself. Go watch some porn on your phone or whatever takes up your precious time so you’re too busy to take your own Nonna out to visit the Capo.”
“Aw, Nonna—” Antonio started to protest, but she slapped him around the head.
“Aw, Nonna, nothing,” she snapped. “My grandson isstupidoand needs to learn to respect his elders.” He was obviously on her bad side for not being available to bring her to see us any sooner.
Antonio skulked away to wait by his car, rubbing his head as he went.
We went into the living room and sat down on the couches—me, Marco and Danio on one, while Nonna Tocchini sat facing us on the opposite one.
“You know why I’m here. Carolinne is already promised to another family and her reputation is going to be ruined if you,” she said, pointing her finger at Danio, “keep on behaving like this.”
Marco sat forward. “Signora Tocchini, let me assure you that we have spoken with our younger brother and nothing like the other night will happen again.”
“Carolinne’s engagement will take place soon and we can’t have that jeopardized. You know how important the bond will be for my family, and you know how people talk.”
We sat and discussed the situation for the next twenty minutes, trying to reassure Carolinne’s grandmother that the other night was a mistake and that Danio would not be putting on a repeat performance.
The problem with Marco being a young Capo was that people like Nonna Tocchini had known him since he was a baby in diapers and thus bluntly spoke their minds to him when it came to family matters, although they were always careful not to comment on business. Marco always took care to be respectful to the elder members of our community, although I could tell he’d clearly had enough of talking about this subject.
As we were finishing up, Juliana came to tell us that lunch was ready. As was customary, Marco invited Nonna Tocchini to stay—food was everything in Italian families and it would be an insult not to invite someone to stay for a meal.
As it was a weekend, everyone was home for lunch. We sat around the dining table and Nonna even forgave Antonio enough to let him come in and eat with us too, although I diplomatically steered Danio to sit on the opposite end of the table from the two Tocchinis.
Juliana came in with food she had cooked: freshly made cannelloni stuffed with minced beef and spinach, covered with a tomato and basil sauce, and a mozzarella topping. After everyone had helped themselves to the food, we started to eat.
“Mamma mia!” exclaimed Nonna, spluttering and reaching for a glass of water. “What is this rubbish?”
“Beef cannelloni,” replied Juliana with a smile. “It’s the first time I’ve tried this recipe and it seems to have turned out pretty well.”
Nonna looked at Marco, shaking her head. “Capo, your wife cannot cook cannelloni. If this gets out, we’ll be the laughingstock of the Mafia world. You need to get her some lessons.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Signora Tocchini,” interjected Juliana. “I’ve had lessons already, and this is much better than what I used to cook.”
Nonna harrumphed and fixed her gaze on Marco and me. “No wonder your boy is sniffing around my Carolinne like a dog in heat.Sheknows how to cook cannelloni.”
Danio flushed bright red, Antonio rolled his eyes, and Marco just looked bewildered—clearly not knowing how to deal with the formidable Nonna Tocchini.
CATE
I arrived at the Marchiano mansion at 5.30 p.m., determined to say my piece to Alessio and then leave before dinner started.
I found, however, the living area full of even more Marchianos than normal.
“Cate,” Alessio called to me over to the dining area. I walked over slowly, avoiding Alessio’s gaze, my cheeks warming as images of last night played in my mind. “This is my cousin, Lorenzo,” he introduced. “You may remember him from our wedding.”
I didn’t recall his face. He looked like every other brooding Made Man: dressed in black and with a serious look on his face.
“He’s our Underboss here in Chicago.”
“Hi,” I said warily. I looked around, wondering if I could get Alessio to himself. The guys, however, were in the middle of talking business, so it looked like I would have to wait until after dinner to get Alessio by himself.
I resigned myself to this and wandered over to the sofas where Debi was talking with a young woman and two small children. I couldn’t help noticing that Mr. Fluffy was lurking nearby.
“Where’s Juliana?” I asked, not seeing her anywhere and wondering who was going to keep her dog under control.
