“At the time, yes.”Then a shiver runs down my spine.Is this really the most intelligent conversation to have?“This is all only going as far as the three of us, right?”
“Of course,” Guilia breathes out, captivated, barely blinking as she stares at me.
“I wouldn’t say I have a past, but I did have someone who was very important to me, and… I don’t want things to get awkward or contentious.I guess there’s really no way to put the past aside, is there?”I muse, picking at my salad.
“Imagine starting off dead set on putting a man away for the rest of his life, then falling in love with him,” Emilia quips.“There are still lots of times when the past comes knocking.Know what I mean?”
I’m sure I can’t begin to imagine how complicated it is, weaving her old life into her new life.“It makes me a little curious, though,” I confide, almost whispering.“Dante is so closed off.I can’t get a sense for whether he has a past or not.Do I have to worry about some socialite with fake boobs draping herself over him at one of these events?”
Emilia’s disbelieving laugh splits the otherwise peaceful, quiet air.“Sorry,” she quickly murmurs, still chuckling.“I can’t imagine that.He’s handsome, he’s powerful, but a past?”
Guilia isn’t laughing.Guilia is slowly, methodically picking out every piece of yellow pepper she can find in her salad.“You might be surprised,” she murmurs without looking up from her plate.
Jackpot.“What does that mean?”I have to ask before adding, “And you know this doesn’t go any further than the table.I promise.”
Blowing out a sigh that stirs the curtain bangs so carefully arranged around her face, she murmurs, “I was little, and this was maybe ten years ago.Dante had a girlfriend he was super serious about.Her name was Monica.He brought her here for dinner a few times.”A decade later, fondness creeps into her voice.“I really liked her.She was fun, she was pretty, and I was sure they were going to get married.”
She sighs again, her shoulders drooping before she glances up from her plate, finding my gaze and locking on.“But then she died.That’s really all I know.And after that, Dante never brought anybody else home.I don’t know if he’s dated at all.The family is his life.So, I don’t think you have to worry about anybody hitting on him…” She pauses.“Nobody from his past, anyway.”
I’m reeling by the time she goes back to removing all traces of yellow from her plate.A dead girlfriend?Someone he was serious about?I guess it was mean and stupid of me to assume he’s all molded plastic down there with no actual, working parts.And if he’s closed off and distant, a dead girlfriend would be a pretty damn good reason for it—no wonder he doesn’t want to open up.
There I was feeling hurt and rejected.Now I feel small and petty.Not much of an improvement.
“That’s so sad,” Emilia muses, crestfallen.“I shouldn’t have laughed.”
“He can be a real dick sometimes,” Guilia reminds her, and the three of us laugh before Guilia shoots me a worried look.“No offense.”
I can almost taste him on my lips when I shake my head, chuckling.“No, he can definitely be a dick.”That’s all it takes to break the awkwardness and get the girls talking again.
Birds sing in the trees, a warm breeze blows, and armed men discreetly patrol the grounds spread out around us, while I wrestle more than ever with the enigma I married and whether or not I should give two shits about what made him who and how he is.
9
DANTE
“And that’s all we have on this guy?”There’s a very thin folder open in front of me.Thinner than I hoped after consulting the private investigator my family keeps on retainer.He’s infamous for his thorough approach and usually provides almost too much information.
Not this time.
My brother can always be trusted to miss the point of a situation.No surprise.I can’t ask for miracles, but trying to get him to understand, to be on the same chapter, if not the same page, is like pulling teeth.“I’d think you’d be glad there’s no evidence of him being linked with any of the other families.That would make for a real complication.”
“He’s already a complication,” I snap.The smooth, smoky bourbon slides down my throat when I drain my glass, heating my chest, softening the razor’s edge of frustration threatening to split me open.It’s like my skin feels too tight, as if the pressure is too much.
“He’s nothing.And nobody.”Reaching around me for the file, Luca reads from the summary page.“Traveled to Italy.Ingratiated himself with several key players in Sicily and Bologna.Well-connected but no evidence of involvement in day-to-day business.”
Leaving the file on Papa’s desk, he taps two fingers to the page before crossing to the bar for another drink.“That’s code for he’s not worth shit, so don’t worry about him.”
It’s too clean.Too empty.I would rather review a detailed report of the many hits Enzo played a part in and his invaluable contributions than read something this vague and anticlimactic.Looking away from the file, I catch my brother smirking over his shoulder.“If I didn’t know better…” he murmurs, “… I would think you’re jealous of this guy.”
Heat blazes through me.I’m skilled at concealing it.“Don’t be a child.”I sigh.
“That’s your go-to defense, isn’t it?”He’s enjoying himself immensely, smirking my way before sampling his fresh drink.“You’re predictable.I’ll give you that much.”
My shoulders rise.“I have nothing to be jealous of.Sophia is my wife.”
“You don’t need to convince me,” he replies, dripping with fake innocence.“I was there.Remember?I witnessed your love story as it unfolded.”
Love story.If only he didn’t have to be so smug.It’s like he’s begging for me to reply with my fists, which tighten in my lap.“Don’t you have somewhere to be tonight?”I snap.
