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This is becoming a bad habit. Yesterday my anger drove me to destroy a glass plaque that had been given to me to celebrate my graduation from the Master’s program. If I keep this up, the janitor is going to raise questions about all the broken glass in my trash can.
“Take that back,” I demand, my voice laced with a mix of desperation and anger.
“I can’t,” she replies calmly, her composure unshaken. “If there are rumors getting back to my family, the only way out of this marriage is to squash them.”
I slide on my knees in front of her, grabbing the edges of her chair so she can’t escape. “That’ll get you out ofthismarriage, but not the next. They’ll force you to marry someone else, Christine. Eventually, they’ll make you marry someone of their choosing. If it isn’t Rocco, it’ll be someone else.”
Christine reaches up and grazes my cheek, her touch a soothing balm after the searing sting of her words. “Not if I leave. If I can stall them until I graduate, I can escape. I can leave Kansas and disappear somewhere they’ll never find me.”
I don’t know what hurts more: the thought of Christine leaving me or the thought of never seeing her again. Both of them make my soul ache. “I know you think this is the only way, but it’s not. You could marry me.”
She shakes her head, vehemently refusing my suggestion. “They would kill you. If not Giovanni, then Marco. Or, to keep their hands clean, they’d send one of their men to do the job. Ican’t lose you, my freedom,andbe married to a murderer. I’ve considered it, Nic, and I have to choose the least offensive of the two options.”
“Losing me isn’t offensive?” I counter, grappling with a complex mix of emotions.
Christine sighs heavily as if she regrets beginning this conversation. “Losing you will be hard, but at least you’ll still be alive. That’s what matters. You’ll find someone else one day. You’ll move on when I’m gone.”
I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, brushing the skin with the gentlest butterfly kiss. “Give me a few weeks. I’m going to take care of this. I talked to Dante already, and we’re going to figure something out.”
Her bottom lip finds itself caught between her teeth, leaving a faint indentation in her peach-colored flesh. “I don’t want your family involved in this, Nic. I don’t want your brothers to get hurt.”
“They’ll be fine,” I reassure her, my voice gentle yet determined. “Just give me a few weeks. If we can’t find a way out and your only choice is to let me go, I’ll understand. But I won’t let you go without a fight. If I have to swear allegiance to the Lucatello family and pay a King’s ransom for you, I will. I’d do anything for you, Christine.”
Her shoulders sag as if a weight has been lifted; I think my words are getting through to her. “I’m scared. I’m terrified that this plan might backfire, and someone will get hurt.”
Someoneisgoing to get hurt, but it won’t be me. “Stop worrying. I promise everything is going to be okay.”
My phone starts ringing a second later, interrupting us. I want to ignore it, but Christine tells me to answer.
Retrieving the device from my back pocket, I curse myself for not silencing it when I knew Christine would be here. But on the screen, I see Dante’s name. I answer hopefully, thinking that he might have come up with a solution since we spoke on Saturday night. “Hey. I’m with Christine. What’s up?” I smile at her as I put the phone on speaker so we can both listen in. “Did you come up with a solution for her problem?”
Dante’s reply is slower than usual, laden with an unspoken weight that tugs at my core. “Nic, Dad is dead.”
Christine covers her mouth, eyes widening in horror.
I frown at my phone screen even though my brother can’t see me. Resentment and relief blend together in a bittersweet cocktail. “I’ll have to call you back,” I say, abruptly ending the call.
“Nic, we should—” but I cut him off mid-sentence by hanging up.
“My father is dead,” I announce aloud, even though Christine could hear my brother as well as me. I’ve wished for his death a dozen times, all in anger, never in truth. But now he’s gone, and I feel a strange mix of emotions.
“Nic,” Christine breathes, her voice laden with sympathy, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
For a minute, I forget all about Christine’s crisis and become embroiled in my own. They say when it rains, it pours, and right now, it feels like it’s storming. “Maybe you should leave. I-I need to-to call…” I trail off.
Who am I going to call? My brothers are my best friends and my worst enemies. They’re the only ones I would call; they’re the only ones that would understand my complex feelings.
Leaning forward, Christine presses her lips against my cheek. “I’ll check on you later, okay? I love you, Nic.”
Twenty-four hours ago, hearing those words would have meant the world to me, but now they resonate through my mind like a distant echo bouncing off the walls of the Grand Canyon.
Funny how tragedy can change everything.
Chapter 29
Niccolo
My sister, Lucia, lives in Topeka, but even she shows up to the Grey Goose to mourn our father’s loss.
