AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re beautiful,” Dante blurted out. “I mean, you look like an angel. You have a beautiful face, very delicate, and your eyes are so blue, like a warm blue sea. Your hair is long and white and shining. You’re a beautiful, beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.” Lucia smiled with pleasure. She moved her hand to the other side of his face and pushed his hair back. “Now let me tell you what you look like. You have big round eyes, and they’re a dark blue-gray. My mother calls them Sicilian eyes, and they change in the light. And your nose has a little bump, and your mouth smiles more lately.” Lucia cupped his beard, and Dante cringed, his back against the cell wall.
“I’m a monster.”
“No, you’re just like me. I’m not the devil, or an omen, or bad luck, like everyone thinks. And you’re not a monster. You’re a handsome young man.”
“I’m not.” Dante grimaced, pained. “I’m not, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Lucia said, her voice calm and steady. “They’ve locked you up in here, but they can’t take away your soul. Everybody has a light inside them, Dante. I can see yours, through your eyes. You’re human and you have a soul.”
“Do you think?” Dante’s eyes brimmed with tears though he hadn’t cried in years.
“Yes, look.” Lucia traced a teardrop down his cheek. “This is proof.”
Dante emitted a hoarse sob that came from deep within, from a hope that had been buried so long he hadn’t known it was still there.
“It’s okay,” Lucia whispered, then she placed her lips on his and kissed him so gently that Dante felt as if she were breathing life intohis very soul. Teary and trembling, he kissed her back,feelinghuman and sensing that she was bringing him from darkness into light, from Monster into his very self.
“I love you,” Lucia breathed, releasing him.
“I love you, too,” Dante heard himself say, remembering the word.
And the emotion.
Because of her.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Franco raised his flute ofproseccoto toast his happiest birthday yet. His success had surpassed even his dreams, and he had become thecapo di tutti capi, or boss of all bosses, of the all-powerful Fiorvanti clan. They were the first Mafia family in Sicily, controlling the Conca d’Oro and Palermo. They had made a vast fortune, and tonight, Franco was going to tell Roberto his plan for an even bigger future.
Franco grinned. “Happy birthday to us!”
“Happy birthday to us!” Roberto grinned back, raising his flute.
“Happy birthday to both of you!” Franco’s wife, Elvira, smiled sweetly. She was a quiet, dark-haired beauty with round, brown-black eyes and a body that was soft in all the right places. A perfect wife and mother, Elvira had given Franco three daughters and she knew when to look the other way.
“To the bosses!” added Roberto’s wife, Bruna. Bruna was beautiful, but she was too skinny and cheeky for Franco’s taste. She wore her black hair in a modern style and had expensive habits, like the glittery dress from Paris she wore tonight. Her only virtue in Franco’s eyes was she had borne Roberto a fine son, Patrizio.
“Ah, the first course!” Franco turned as Signora Esposito entered the dining room. Her hair had turned white, but her wit was sharper thanever. She carried a plate of ravioli stuffed with ricotta, spinach, and pine nuts, covered with herpassata, or tomato sauce.
Roberto clapped. “Here comes the bestpassatain the world.”
“Secondbest,” Franco corrected him. “Mamma’s was the best.”
“I disagree.” Roberto motioned to Signora Esposito. “Mother Superior, serve me first.”
“Sorry, but he’s the boss.” Signora Esposito went to Franco and served him steaming ravioli, the tart aroma of the tomatoes filling his nostrils.
“When do I get to go first?” Roberto asked, mock-offended.
“Never!” Franco and Signora Esposito answered in unison.
Signora Esposito moved around the table and served Roberto. “The key to mypassatais mystrattù, my tomato paste. My mother would make it with the other women, and the village would smell like tomatoes.” Signora Esposito served Elvira. “She would make thepassata, ladle it onto plates with salt, and leave it in the sun for days. She would stir it, she wasn’t lazy. The extra water would evaporate, leaving only the best of the tomato, and the breeze off the sea would give it a special saltiness.” Signora Esposito ended with Bruna. “Then, she would spread it out on fewer plates and start again. This is how you make the beststrattùin Sicily, and when you makepassatawith it, only a fool could miss. And I’m no fool.” Signora Esposito finished her speech, gave a little nod. “I tell you this secret on your birthday, boys. That’s your gift from me. Expect nothing else.”
Franco and Roberto burst into laughter, Signora Esposito left the dining room, and everyone dug into the ravioli. Franco savored the creaminess of the ricotta and the salt of the tomato, then cleared his throat. “So, I have an announcement about our expansion—”
“Franco, I have something first,” Roberto interrupted, excited.
