Two hours later, there are two dozen more armed guards patrolling the grounds. Leo, Quinn, and Gianni are locked in the study, strategizing. I’m in the kitchen, making dinner. Mamma is upstairs, asleep, and Lili is in her bedroom, doing God knows what.
She’s probably still in shock. When she came up from the basement with Gianni, she was white as a ghost and shaking badly.
This was her first experience with the darker side of Mafia life.
She’s been pampered and protected since she was a baby, attending only exclusive all-girl private schools with other children of wealthy families, surrounded by bodyguards and watchful eyes. Scarsdale is less than an hour from Manhattan, but has only about 20,000 residents and almost no crime.
She hasn’t been exposed to death in any meaningful way. Her grandfather was killed before she was born, her mother died in childbirth, and her zio Enzo, well…
She didn’t see him die, either.
The point being that she’s never seen this kind of violence. I thought she might faint when she saw the bloodied body lying facedown in the middle of the foyer when Gianni brought her up to her bedroom.
This has been quite the day for her.
For both of us.
I can still see Quinn’s face when he said, “I’d kill him for you.” I still hear that rough, urgent tone in his voice, see his burning, beautiful eyes.
All of it will be seared into my mind forever.
No one ever tried to help me. Everyone knew what was happening, what Enzo enjoyed doing to me, but nobody ever intervened. I was his wife and therefore his property, and in the Cosa Nostra, you can do with your property whatever you like.
Even my own mamma could only offer her shoulder for me to cry on.
After a while, there were no more tears left, so I didn’t even need that.
But Lili’s Irishman wishes he could’ve helped. I believe he would’ve, too, had he been around then to see it.
Maybe she’ll never love him. And maybe he’ll be moody or irritating or a slob, but now I believe he won’t hurt her beyond the petty ways husbands and wives can hurt one another, those small moments of unkindness, words spoken thoughtlessly or small deeds of neglect.
Quinn killed four men today. Protecting me—us, our family—he took four lives.
He would’ve taken on an army by himself if he had to.
Which convinced me, more than anything he could say, that she’ll be safe with him. It might not be a love match, but a man who will protect a woman with his own life is a rare thing.
So rare, I’ve never seen it before.
So although I might have wanted someone different for Lili, this Irishman will do.
“Buona sera, Reyna.”
I look up from the stove to see Leo entering the kitchen. He’s the same age as Gianni, and looks about the same, too. Slicked-back dark hair, custom suit, pinky rings. With their close height, build, and coloring, they could be brothers.
“Buona sera, Leo. Thank you for coming.”
He waves that off. “You look well. Not a scratch, eh?”
“Not a one.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I suppose you can’t scratch titanium.”
As is the way with all Gianni’s friends, he never looks right at me. He addresses me directly, but his gaze lands anywhere but on my face. I used to think it was respect, but now I think it’s fear.
Men don’t like unpredictable things they can’t control. Which is why they prefer dogs over cats.
“How’s your mother?”
“The same ray of sunshine as ever. And yours?”
“Her arthritis is worse.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Please send her my regards.”
“I will.”
Gianni walks in, nodding at me and clapping a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Smells delicious, sorellina.”
“I made enough for an army, so Leo’s men can come in and eat in shifts during the night.”
Leo looks surprised. “Thank you. They’ll appreciate that.”
“Soldiers can’t focus when their stomachs are growling.”
Gianni says proudly, “She would’ve made a good general in the army, eh?”
I know by the compliment that he’s getting ready to ask me to do him a favor. Otherwise, he’d be taking credit for teaching me everything I know about cooking.
He taught me nothing, of course. The man doesn’t even know how to boil water. Between Mamma, his late wife, and now me, he’s never made a meal in his life.
Quinn enters the kitchen, instantly making the room feel crowded. I have no idea how his presence takes up so much space, but it’s a gift. He pulls up a chair and sits at the table.
He doesn’t look at me, but I sense a huge change in him from when we last spoke. He’s glowering and agitated, drumming his fingers restlessly on the tabletop, a thundercloud of temper settled over his features.
Honestly, the man should see a doctor about his mood changes. A girl could get a broken neck trying to keep up.
Gianni glances at him as if waiting for permission to speak. When it doesn’t come, he says abruptly, “We’ve decided to move up the wedding date. For Lili’s own safety and—”
“I agree,” I interrupt, calmly stirring an enormous pot of carbonara sauce.
Quinn’s sharp gaze snaps in my direction. My body temperature rises several degrees. No one says anything for several moments, then Gianni clears his throat.
“Well…good. She needs a gown. And she’ll have to be all packed and ready to go to Boston. Her clothes and belongings, whatever she needs.”
“Of course. I’ll take care of everything. How much time do I have?”
“A week.”
My stirring falters for only the briefest of seconds before I start up again. “I see. The venue?”
Quinn says gruffly, “The Old North Church in Boston.”
Shocked, I glance up at him, meeting his penetrating gaze. “A church? Is that safe? Somewhere so public?”
“It’s our home parish. If the head of the Mob can be safely married there, so can his men.”
When I look at Gianni, he nods. I suspect they’ve had in-depth discussions about the exact safety precautions that will be put in place for the ceremony. Discussions I won’t be privy to, so I’ll just have to trust they know what they’re doing.
I don’t, but I’ll have to try.
“What about the rehearsal dinner? Where will that be held?”
Looking stumped, Gianni glances at Quinn. “Do we need a rehearsal dinner?”
Quinn examines my face for several seconds. “What do you think, Reyna?”
I almost drop the spoon in surprise, but manage to compose myself in time. “We definitely need a formal meeting between the two families before the wedding.”
Gianni says, “I’m making the trip to Boston tomorrow to meet Mr. O’Donnell.”
“That’s fine, but you’ve got to get the women involved, too.”
Gianni looks irritated by that. “Why do we have to get the women involved?”
Leveling him with a stony stare, I say, “Because we’re joining our families, and it’s respectful to include us in something so important. Because it will help Lili adjust to her new life in Boston if she’s already met some of the women she’ll be spending time with. And because we’re the ones who decide if your home lives are heaven or hell, so you should accommodate us once in a while.”
Sighing, he says, “Fine. We’ll have a rehearsal dinner.”
“Thank you. Quinn, will you please put me in touch with your contact at the church so I can make arrangements for flowers, music, and the other ceremony details?”
“Aye.”
“What about the guest list? Who’s handling that?”
I get a bunch of blank stares in response to that question.
Seriously, how are men in charge of anything? They’re totally incompetent with logistics. Did they think we’d send out carrier pigeons?
Trying to rein in my temper, I say, “How many people does the church hold?”
“Four hundred max,” says Quinn.
“So we’ll say two hundred per side, is that fair?”
Gianni protests, “We’ll need more than that!”
“Why, if you have such a small family?”
Gianni looks at Quinn with his brows drawn together. “Who said we have a small family?”
When Quinn sends me a pointed, disapproving glare, I smile. “I might’ve fibbed about how many relatives we have.”
“Among other things. Are you a pathological liar, or is it more like a hobby?”
“It’s closer to a protective evolutionary adaptation, like the stripes on a tiger.”
After a beat, he says, “You live in a jungle, you learn to camouflage yourself.”
I shrug. “Survival of the fittest and all that.”
He says darkly, “Aye. And you’re one bloody fit tiger, aren’t you, woman?”
Leo and Gianni are looking at us like we’re two psychiatric patients babbling to each other in a padded cell.
Ignoring them, I say, “So two hundred a side. I’ll handle the invitations for our side. I trust you have someone you can delegate that task to for yours?”
Looking pensive, Quinn nods.
“Good. Any suggestions where you’d like the rehearsal dinner to be held? I’m not familiar with Boston.”
“I know a place.”
“We’ll keep the list for the dinner limited to the immediate families and whoever’s in the wedding party, so it doesn’t have to be as big as the church. What else?” I think for a moment. “Marriage license.”
Quinn says, “It’s already taken care of.”
“What about the wedding reception? Where will that be?”
More blank looks.
“You know what? Leave it to me. I’ll find somewhere close to the church that can hold four hundred gangsters and has good security. Maybe there’s a federal prison nearby.”
Quinn shakes his head. “Let me handle that. I know someone who can put together big events on short notice.” He pauses. A crack appears in his stormy demeanor. His smile is faint, but it’s there. “She’s a boss. Reminds me a lot of you, actually.”
“Really? She runs a zoo, too?”
“Aye. Keeps all us monkeys in line.”
“I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about. What about the ring?”
Gianni and Leo look at Quinn, who’s looking at me with his brows drawn together.
“What about it?”
As if I’m speaking to a toddler, I say with exaggerated patience, “You’ll purchase one, I assume?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? Do you want everyone laughing at you during the part in the ceremony where you should be putting a ring on your bride’s finger, but you can’t because you forgot to buy her one?”
He looks at the ceiling, as if calling on a higher power for patience. Then he scowls at me again. “I’ll buy a ring.”
“A nice one,” I insist. “Not just a simple gold band. Make sure it has diamonds.”
Leaning back in his chair, he crosses one leg over the other and gazes at me in silent, tight-lipped fury.
Finally, his teeth gritted, he says, “Any particular carat size you’d like, Madam Queen?”
My smile is so sweet, it could cause cancer. “The bigger the better. She’ll need something to show off to her friends, and it certainly isn’t you.”
His look turns black. The thunderclouds over his head start to boil.
I’m about to move on to the next item on my list when he says suddenly, “You’ll come with me to pick it out.”
I stop stirring the carbonara sauce to grimace at him. “It’s too personal. You have to choose something you think she’d like.”
A muscle in his jaw flexes. He stares at me in brooding silence, then says gruffly, “I don’t know what she bloody likes, do I?”
“For God’s sake, it’s not rocket science. Just pick out a pretty ring!”
Seeing that Quinn’s about to become unhinged, Gianni snaps, “You’ll go with him. It’s decided.”
“First thing in the morning,” agrees Quinn darkly.
A judge handing a prisoner a death sentence couldn’t sound more threatening.
“Fine. What time should I expect you?”
He snaps, “I’m staying here tonight!”
Fed up with his bearish attitude, I say flatly, “What a treat.”
I lower the heat under the pot and remove my apron. Then I put together a plate of spaghetti and sauce for Lili, along with a slice of the garlic bread that came out of the oven just before they walked in.
I turn away and head toward the door. Gianni looks at me quizzically.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking your daughter her dinner and delivering the news about her new wedding date, which you hadn’t gotten around to badgering me into yet.”
He’s aghast. “What about our dinners?”
“None of your arms are broken. Help yourselves.”
I feel Quinn’s eyes burning holes into my back as I walk out.
When I get upstairs, I knock lightly on Lili’s closed bedroom door. “It’s me. I thought you might be hungry.”
There’s no response for so long, I think she might be asleep. But then the door cracks open, and she’s standing there in her pajamas, red-eyed and pale.
“Hey, zia,” she whispers.
“Oh, sweetie, I know. A little food might help.”
She backs up, letting me into the room, but she’s shaking her head. “I can’t eat. I feel sick.”
She crosses to her bed, crawls under the covers, and pulls them over her face.
I set the plate of food on the nightstand, perch on the edge of the bed, then gently pull the blankets down. Smoothing a hand over her forehead, I say, “You want to talk about it?”
She sniffles. “Which part? The shootings, the explosion, the dead bodies, or that angry Bigfoot Papa wants me to marry?”
“Any of the above.”
She blows out a hard breath, puffing out her bottom lip, then closes her eyes. “Not really.”
“Okay. But there’s something I have to tell you.”
Her eyelids fly open. She stares at me in panic. “Oh God. What now?”
I’m about to tell her about the wedding being moved up when the ringing of a phone interrupts me.
The sound is coming from somewhere under the blankets.
This wouldn’t be strange, but Lili doesn’t own a cell phone because she’s overprotected and her father thinks all teenage girls do on their phones is take pictures of themselves in their underwear to post on the internet.
As the ringing continues, Lili slowly pulls the covers back up over her face until only her wide, horrified eyes are showing.
I say firmly, “Give it to me. Where is it, Lili? Hand it over.”
When she doesn’t respond, I stand and whip the covers off her. She immediately starts scrambling around, searching for the phone that’s tangled somewhere in the sheets.
I find it first and snatch it up. It’s a cheap, old-school Nokia with a small screen and a pixelated readout.
A burner.
She didn’t get this on her own.
As Lili whines and grapples with me, trying to grab it back, I hit the Answer button but don’t say anything.
“Hello? Lili? Corazon, are you there?”
The voice is young, male, and has a slight Spanish accent, and of course I know who it is.
“Hello, Juan Pablo,” I say, walking away from the bed so I can hear over Lili’s pleas. “This is Lili’s aunt, Reyna. We need to talk.”
“Zia, please! Give me the phone! Let me talk to him!”
I go into her bathroom and lock the door behind me, ignoring her muffled pleading.
On the other end of the line, Juan Pablo is silent. I sit on the closed toilet seat, lean over and prop my forehead in my hand, and sigh.
“Look. I have nothing against you—”
“You fired my father,” he interrupts, sounding indignant.
“You deflowered my niece,” I shoot back.
“We’re in love!”
“I know you think that means you should be together, but it’s not going to happen. Her father won’t allow it. I need you to promise me you’ll leave her alone.”
He says flatly, “No. You can’t keep us apart.”
Surprised, I huff out a breath. The balls on this kid.
I’m inclined to like him, but considering he’ll be a corpse if Gianni discovers any of this, I’ll save my affection for the living.
“Maybe I can’t, but her father and the rest of the Mafia can. Do you have any idea what will happen if they find out about you?”
His voice rises. “You think I care what a bunch of racist goomba fucks think about me?”
“This isn’t about your race.”
“Bullshit!” he hollers. “That’s all it’s about! Your kind hate us!”
I listen to his angry breathing for a while, feeling bad for him, but also stung that he assumes I dislike him based on his race…but also completely understanding why he’d make that assumption.
A person only has to hang around Gianni for half an hour to get a solid education in what prejudice looks like.
Keeping my voice low, I say, “I don’t hate you. But even if you were Italian, you couldn’t be together.”
His breath hitches. “Because I’m poor?”
“No, sweet boy. Because she’s engaged to be married.”
“To someone she doesn’t love! She was forced into it! If you care about her at all, how can you let that happen?”
He’s so impassioned, so furious and desperate and so obviously sick with love, I’m moved.
So I tell him the truth, even though it gains me nothing.
“I wish I could help her, Juan Pablo. I wish you could be together, because I believe you’d make her happy. But in the world Lili and I live in, we don’t get a choice. And if you try to interfere with this marriage, my brother will kill you. That isn’t an empty threat. He’ll kill you, and it won’t matter to him at all.”
In an anguished, theatrical burst, he cries, “I’d rather die than live without her!”
Jesus Christ, these kids are a Shakespearean tragedy waiting to happen.
“Keep this up, and you will die. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You can say you’ll help us!”
“Okay, enough. You seem like a good kid. I don’t want you to get hurt. So this stops. Now. If you really do love Lili, you have to end this. It’s making her miserable.” My voice hardens. “It’s putting her in danger, too.”
Into his fraught silence, I say, “Or do you think men like my brother and her fiancé won’t care if they find out she isn’t a virgin? Because let me tell you, Juan Pablo, you won’t be the only one to pay a price. And what they’ll do to her…death would be preferable.”
When I disconnect, my hands are shaking.
I stand, set the phone on the floor, then stomp it under my heel as hard as I can. It splinters into pieces.
I open the door and look at Lili, standing there with her hands over her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.
“It’s over, Lili. This is the end. You’ll never speak to Juan Pablo again. And because of what happened today, your father has moved up the wedding. You’re marrying Quinn in a week. I’m sorry.”
There’s nothing left to say, so I pull her into my arms and hold her tight as she sobs.
I’m not sure whose heart is more broken, hers or mine.
