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“I haven’t been tortured, Teresa,” I say, my voice going soft and consoling, as if I need to reassure her and assuage her guilt.
“Because you’re too fuckin’ strong to let any man tear you down, bella.” Her hand goes to my cheek and it feels . . . good. It’s nice to have a woman in this house on my side, someone who sees and understands me. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t owe your mother. That I didn’t want to help you in your own goals.”
“You’ve been . . .”
“I sent that picture of Paulie fucking Dario’s wife to the Russos. Knew they’d give it to the right person. Dante got it, correct?”
My gut churns at the thought of this woman in front of me hiring a private investigator and then getting images of who the world thinks of as her blood fucking the wife of one of his Capos.
“I didn’t look, don’t worry,” she says with a smile. “The PI gave me the images. I just wrote on the envelope.” For some reason, I smile as well.
Despite this unbelievable, chaotic mess, I smile.
“Does . . . Does Dante know all of this?”
“No.”
“Dante doesn't know that you’re not Paulie’s mother?”
“The only people who know that are Paulie, Tony, and Carmine.”
“And his mother?”
Teresa shrugs.
“Never heard from her again. Risky business, fucking a married made man and then getting pregnant on purpose. Can’t say what happened, but I know she was convinced one way or another to keep her mouth shut.” My heart broke for the woman who lost her child to this family, whether she wanted to keep him or not.
“They’re poison, Lilah. Tony. Carmine. Paulie. Something’s just not right with them. They can’t live without the power. Fuck, look at Carmine—he could have gone down instead of Tony but refused. Let his son take the fall for him.” I bite my lip.
“He’s good though, Lilah,” she whispers. Her fingers go out, touching the St. Christopher medal that burns on my skin. “He got all of her. She was good. Would have loved you. He’s good.” She says the words looking at me, eyes wide like she’s trying to tell me to trust her, and I can’t decide if I should. If I should believe her, confess to her, give more to her the way she’s given to me.
“And your mother would be proud,” she says, pulling me into a hug and pressing her lips to my hair, her eyes watering. When she pulls back, those eyes are near overflowing, and she puts both hands on my cheeks before she presses another kiss to my forehead. “Hey, Marco. Just us girls being girls,” she says, louder now, to someone behind me.
“You good, Lilah?” I hear from behind me, the familiar sound nearly turning my own tears on.
“I’m good, Marco,” I say, my voice cracking as I turn away from Teresa to see my friend.
And when I turn to look back, she’s already gone.
“People are starting to arrive. We have to go,” he says, and I nod, completely unsure how Teresa made it all these years in this home knowing all of these secrets.
FORTY
-Lilah-
I’m in the kitchen, putting appetizers and dips into bowls to bring into the main room where everyone is gathered for Carmine’s celebration of life, when it happens.
He walks in on a mission, eyes locked to where I stand, and I put down he bag I was holding, turning to face him fully and crossing my arms on my chest.
“What do you want, Paulie?”
“I know everything.” It’s not his words that send the tiniest shiver down my spine.
It’s the smell of liquor on his breath and the utterly insane look in his eyes.
“You’ll have to use your big boy words for me to understand what you’re saying,” I say, poking the bear I should very much leave alone.
“You think you’re so fucking smart, so fucking important, don’t you?” I continue to stare at the man in front of me but don’t answer. A sickening smile crosses his lips and I just know a bomb is behind it.
