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“Unless I was dead,” I said, hating to point it out. He could have had power if Gia was the heir; Gia wasn’t made for this life. A trusted advisor to a weak leader could run things his way without fear of accountability. So long as they had a suitable Banetti as the figurehead, none of the five families could step in, and Rocco could run things for as long as he wanted.
“Amato could also be playing a long game,” I said. “He could insert himself into the family then you could meet with either an unfortunate accident or he could blame the Irish. A nephew of a powerful Italian Don would be hard to say no to, especially as it could be argued that Alessandro’s birthright was stolen. Amato could come in like some avenging angel, especially if he could prove there was a connection between the Irish and Rocco, and humiliate the five families for letting it happen under their noses.”
“Because the five families wouldn’t sanction Amato taking over without a war, unless of course he had family connections,” Lucio added. “He could quite easily play the grieving uncle.”
“I suppose it comes down to whether you trust Alessandro or not,” Gia said. “Of course, there is another option, that Alessandro wants the position for himself.”
I shook my head. “No.” Surely that was impossible.
Gia shrugged. “Just throwing it out there.”
Did I trust Alessandro? I wanted to fuck him silly, but that was hardly the same, and all the machinations made my head hurt. Except, like it or not, every power move wasla famiglia101.
“I think you need to get cozy with your new husband,” Lucio said. “Make him think whatever plan he has is working. Give Gia time to dig further.”
Sure. After what happened last night, it should be a breeze.
Gia sighed. “Keep your enemies closer.”
Was Alessandro my enemy? One way or another, I suppose I was about to find out.
16
Alessandro
Istared at Sofia, completely and utterly thrown. What the hell was she doing here? Sofia glanced at Imelda. “Cream, no sugar.” She turned back to me. “I wish to speak to you in private.”
Running steps announced Alvize and Marcus. I knew there had been two guards at the front and wondered how Sofia had gotten past them. Alvize moved right into Sofia’s space and took her purse from her. He then subjected her to a humiliating pat down I would have been mortified by, but all she did was raise an eyebrow. He turned to me and nodded.
“I wish to discuss our friendship going forward,” Sofia said. “Both my father and your husband have to work in the same circles. It would be damaging for your new husband after the debacle of the wedding to be seen avoiding us. He’s lost enough face withla famigliaover the whole affair.” She glanced at Alvize. “But what I have to say is for your ears alone.”
I knew she was right about Dario taking a hit, even if I also knew Sofia hardly had my best interests at heart. Unless it wasdamage by association? Was she afraid her own marriage would be tainted?
Nonna took a step toward her, still brandishing a wooden spoon. I caught her arm gently while nodding to Sofia to precede me as we left the room. I didn’t want Nonna to be subjected to the sort of vitriol Sofia would spew. Imelda moved to get Sofia the coffee and I walked to the small study I had seen yesterday, but Sofia stopped. “Perhaps a walk on the beach and then your gorilla can see you’re unharmed.”
I actually felt better about that and headed to the glass doors and outside, relishing first the grass then the sand under my bare feet.
When we had moved away to what she obviously considered a safe distance for privacy, even though there were at least four pairs of eyes and probably at least that many guns trained on us, she paused. “So, has he fucked you yet, or did he spend your wedding night with Terry?”
I didn’t speak, I didn’t react. I simply turned on my heel to go back to the house.
“You have a brother.”
It was probably the only sentence that would have brought me to a standstill. I turned to her. That was impossible. I would know. A million questions were poised on my trembling lips, fighting to be asked, but thankfully she didn’t make me wait.
“Half-brother and thankfully no bastard relative of mine.”
Unlike me.
“He was born eleven years after you, making him nine in October.” She smirked. “Mommy was a busy bee.”
I shook my head and ignored the insult. “That’s impossible. I would have known.” I’d been eleven. She arched an eyebrow.
“Would you? Your mother was hardly slim, and if you remember, she accompanied my mother on a trip because her maid had a broken wrist.”
That I remembered. I’d spent a miserable four weeks sleeping in the staff quarters of the house. It had been a prison. My mind spun in crazy circles, until the obvious question hit me in the gut. “Prove it.”
She smiled, reaching into her bra and pulling out a photograph and a piece of paper. It was of an unsmiling little boy with a clear bruise on his jaw and the beginnings of a black eye. But even so, the similarity to me was unmistakable. I unfolded the paper. It was a printed birth certificate showing Caterina Gallo as the mother and father as unknown.
