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“That’s not how you think. You would say she’s not family because she’s not blood.”
“She’s family because she’s your wife. Maybe she wasn’t my type, but she was yours.” Franco rubbed Roberto’s back again. “You don’t really like Elvira, do you? She’s not your type, is she?”
“No.” Roberto sniffled. “I don’t even think she’syourtype.”
“But you accept her as my wife, and therefore, she’s our family. We built our family together, you and I. We may disagree, like we did on our birthday. But I learned something from our fight.” Franco looked into his brother’s eyes, so like looking into his own. “I have to give you room to make your own decisions. You can do whatever you like. Our family is what matters.”
Roberto nodded, wiping his tears.
“I’m sorry for everything I said, Robo. I didn’t mean it. I was angry. I’ll always be your brother and I’ll always love you. If you want to go, you should go.”
“I don’t know what to do, now. Maybe itwasa crazy idea.” Roberto teared up again, grief-stricken. “Patrizio will be so upset. His mother, gone. How do I tell him? You have to be there when I do.”
“We’ll get through this together.” Franco pulled Roberto to him, feeling a rush of deep love. Roberto rested his head on Franco’s shoulder, the way he used to when they were little.
“I loved Bruna, really loved her. I loved her for who she was. The woman she was. Do you know what I mean?” Roberto looked up, his bloodshot eyes brimming with tears.
“Yes, I loved Violetta that way, and always will,” Franco answered, and it was his first true statement in the conversation. “But, Robo, you have to go on, for Patrizio and for yourself. You have to get through this awful time, and I’ll help. I’ll make the funeral arrangements. You take care of him.”
“Thank you.” Roberto nodded, weepy. “Where’s Elvira?”
“At her mother’s. Now, who’s this scum who killed Bruna?”
“His name is Gabriele Provenzano. He’s in custody.” Roberto straightened. “I want him out, first thing tomorrow. I’ll kill him myself. It’s my right.”
“Of course.” Franco gave him a final squeeze. “I love you, Robo.”
“I love you, too.”
Franco heard the words, and they eased his heart. He resolved to find Roberto a better wife, one who fit into the family. No woman would ever come between them. They were twins, together forever.
His plan had worked.
Again.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Dante blinked, not sure what to do. Baron Pisani stood in the hallway in front of his cell, his hand extended. The cell door was wide open, and Dante was no longer manacled to the wall. He was free to go, yet he stood still in his stiff brown shoes.
“Dante?” Baron Pisani’s eyes were kind, his manner patient. “Would you like to come outside with the others?”
Dante was afraid and didn’t know why. “What others?”
“The men you know as Opera Singer, Biter, and Raving King Roger. They’re in the backyard.”
“Really?” Dante hadn’t been sure they were alive.
“Yes, but from now on, we’ll call each other by our Christian names. No one will ever call you Monster again. Opera Singer is Beppe, Biter is Favio, and Raving King Roger is Ruggiero.”
Dante forgot the names instantly, feeling jittery. He glanced into the hallway, surprised at how bright it was from this angle. He had never stood this close to the door, since his chain hadn’t reached this far.
“Come with me.” Baron Pisani motioned.
“I wish Lucia were here.” Dante thought about her during the day. He barely slept at night, listening for her footsteps, which he knew like the beat of his own heart.
“Come outside, then you can tell her you did.”
“Do you think she’ll come back?” Dante found himself asking, though Baron Pisani didn’t even know Lucia.
