“It turns out, my mother was a Spanish immigrant. She was pregnant when she arrived in the U.S., by most accounts. Her name was Lucia Allende. She struggled after she had me, but after a year she thought the best thing to do was to give me up for a while, until she got on her feet. That never happened. She fell into a world of drugs and prostitution, and eventually she was killed by the time I was ten.”
“Oh no,” I whisper, covering my hand with my mouth.
Emanuel presses a kiss to my temple, as if he’s trying to comfort me. As if this isn’t the story of his own mother.
“Anyway, Lucia had been born in Spain, and at age sixteen, she’d met and fallen in love with an Italian man who was ten years older than her. His name was Riccardo Genovese.”
“Same last name as Christian,” I say, starting to put it together.
He nods. “The Allendes and Genoveses were something like sworn enemies. Neither family would’ve approved of my mother and father being together.”
“Like the Montagues and the Capulets.”
“The who?”
I blink and stare at his handsome face. He is completely confused. “You really have never readRomeo and Juliet?”
“Not on fucking purpose.”
I smirk. “Their families were the Montagues and Capulets. They were sworn enemies and the couple fell in love.”
“I hope it ended better for them than it did for my mother.”
I shake my head. “It didn’t.”
“Yeah, well, supposedly my maternal grandfather found out about the relationship once she got pregnant, and demanded she put an end to it. She somehow ran away, hoping that my father would join her in the States and they’d be together. That didn’t exactly pan out. He later died from a drug overdose or something. The details of his death are still sketchy.”
“So how did you meet Christian?”
“He knocked on my door one day. The P.I. I hired had gotten close to the truth, and the Genoveses found out about me. Christian showed up and introduced himself, filling me in on the rest of the story.”
“Which is?”
He shrugged. “The Genoveses are widely known throughout Italy, though they’re from Sicily, Palermo to be exact. They’re … important people, I guess you could say.”
I watch as his lips form a thin line. Something’s not adding up.
Rising, I begin pacing back and forth in front of the couch this time. “So your father’s side of the family is from Sicily?”
“Yes.”
“And your cousin, Christian, just happens to know an attorney powerful enough to get all of the charges against you dropped in a few hours, andthengo have a meeting with the commissioner of the police?”
“Apparently.”
“Apparently? The charges weredropped,”I say with my hands high. “And the arrest wiped clean. That means there will never be a record that this ever happened. YouassaultedMatthew. In broad daylight, with numerous eyewitnesses around. I mean, yes, you had good reason and I enjoyed seeing every second of it, but Matthew’s family has connections. Even here in Williamsport.”
Emanuel looks me right in the eye. “Mine has more.”
I stop moving in my tracks, my back going straight as I take in his words along with his demeanor. I run everything through my head again. From the time we first met in Mexico. I remember him telling me that he was there for his cousin’s wedding.
“Who was your cousin that got married in Mexico?”
“Emilio Genovese. Christian’s older brother.”
I shake my head because the thoughts running through my mind aren’t making much sense but I have to ask the question that keeps coming up.
“Are you in the mafia?”
