I hadn’t known Gianni well enough to care all that much about his death. Sure, I was a little upset, but he’d always kept his distance from me. I didn’t pay much attention to what he did. I knew that he was closer to Marcello and Romeo, anyway. But it didn’t change the fact that he was killed by the Bonifacios.
I pushed myself to my feet and made my way to the dresser. It was still early enough that it was likely that no one was up. My father was an early riser, but he was always leaving the house to conduct his personal business. I didn’t question where he went. I simply accepted the fact that he wasn’t in the house and that I’d have some time away from him. The mood in the house was always dependent on how he was feeling. It was a way for him to control everyone around him, and even so much as a shift in his emotions would cause the entire house to flip. If he was upset, everyone would know about it. A good day would turn into a bad day in an instant. It was enough to make us all apprehensive, as though we were walking on eggshells all day. It took its toll.
I pulled out a black V-neck from the top dresser drawer and turned it in my hand a few times. I looked in the drawer and took a round neck. Suddenly, I found myself torn between wearing a V-neck and a round neck. I stopped and scoffed at myself. When did I begin to worry so much about which clothes to wear? I decided to just pick one, and I picked the V-neck and placed the round neck back in the drawer.
I slammed the drawer shut before walking over to the closet. The rosary hanging from the door clinked against the wood and caused me to sigh. It’d belonged to my nonna and rarely left her side. She always held onto it when she was stressed. I remembered her sitting at the kitchen table when my nonno had gone into the hospital. She’d prayed all night, but it hadn’t done any good.
As far as I’d seen, praying had done none of us any good. I hadn’t heard either of the twins praying to themselves, but I’d heard murmurs coming from Lucia’s room. It seemed as though she was religious, especially when compared to her siblings.
I shook my head, trying to rid my thoughts of those girls. I was thinking about it too much. It was becoming an obsession, and it was unusual. I never thought about something as intensely as I’d considered the Bonifacios in our house.
I grabbed a pair of dark wash jeans from the shelf and eased into them. I closed the door to the closet and made my way out of my room. I kept my footsteps light for fear of waking someone up. I wanted to have the morning to myself. There’d just been so much going on that I wanted to avoid anything unnecessary.
The stairs were cold, even through my socks. It was still summer, but it was a chilly morning, and there were storm clouds filling the sky. There was the thick smell of humidity in the house, which always reminded me of wet grass.
I jumped when I rounded the stairs and saw Natalia in the kitchen. She turned to me with an espresso cup in her hand and a smile across her lips. She loved scaring me. It was something we’d done since we were young, and we’d hit each other on more than one occasion from scaring the other too intensely. It was always around corners. Even if she hadn’t meant to do it, I could tell that she loved my reaction.
“Got you,” she said and lifted the small white espresso cup to her lips. “I see you’re being quiet, too.”
I entered the kitchen and made my way to the espresso machine, which reflected the marble countertop on its sterling silver surface. “Didn’t think anyone else was up.”
She shrugged as I made myself an espresso. The smell of coffee always reminded me of when we lived with our nonna. It was always the first thing she went to. She always liked to remind us that coffee was perfected by Italians. The thought caused me to grin as I cranked off the portafilter. The smell of Natalia’s already made espresso was strong and filled the kitchen with its rich scent. It caused my mouth to water. I was still feeling tired, even after sleeping as long as I had.
“Where were you all night?” Natalia asked.
I emptied the portafilter into the garbage next to the counter, trying to hit the coffee out lightly. “Sleeping.”
“I last saw you around five. There’s no way you were sleeping that long.”
“Is it that hard to believe?” I asked her, turning to face her once the portafilter had no trace of her espresso left in it. “With everything going on, I figured it wasn’t that surprising.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You’re right, you know. I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”
“Because of what happened at the Bonifacio house?”
It was something I hadn’t even considered. Natalia had always been treated differently than the men in our family. She was raised to continue on our family name, to marry well, and be a good wife. She wasn’t forced to kill or even hurt people. My father was distant with her, always giving her more freedom than the rest of us. She was, after all, a girl. And my father was misogynistic, believing that women were only to be wives and mothers.
“Not only that,” she said, lowering her eyes toward the small espresso cup in her hand. “I’ve heard what Dad’s been doing to them down there. The torture, I mean.”
The image of my father torturing Giorgio and enjoying every minute of it appeared in my mind. The smile that had appeared on my father’s face still caused my skin to crawl. I placed the portafilter on the surface of the counter and stared at Natalia, who took another sip of her espresso. Her long, dark hair fell over her face, masking her expression. I didn’t need to see it to know that she was changing. She’d always been selfish and a bit of a brat. Seeing her have empathy for someone else was vastly different from the sister I knew.
“Dio mio,” I blurted, causing her to shift her gaze to me quickly. “Sorry. It’s just that I didn’t think you cared about them.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “It’s not that Icare. It’s just that it’s wrong. I considered it after I heard them hurting them again last night. Marcello disappeared for a few hours, and Dad came upstairs with blood on his shirt. I could hear what they were doing. It’s fucking messed up.”
“You’re right.”
She took another sip from her espresso and placed the cup on the counter next to her. “I don’t want us to live like this anymore.”
Her words caused my chest to twist. It was as if she had been going through the same feelings as I’d been combating for the last few months. I never expected to hear her say anything like that—ever. She’d always been the princess of the family. Anything she needed was hers, and all she ever had to do was ask for it. It was my father’s ability to destroy everything in his wake and then profiting on the rubble that made her lifestyle possible.
“Really?”
She nodded. “Really.”
I bit my lips as we stood in silence. I wasn’t sure what to say to her. I had no idea what could possibly make things better. What she said was true, of course. I couldn’t deny it. Shit. People were literally being tortured beneath our feet, and all of us were too fearful of my father’s vengeance to do anything about it. I wished my father was old and frail, too stupid to know if one of the Bonifacios went missing. Unfortunately, he was still in his prime. Sure, he wasn’t able to beat us himself, but there were people lined up and ready to do the dirty work for him.
“We’ll be out of this one day,” I finally said and turned back toward the espresso machine. “Just don’t get any ideas.”
Natalia cleared her throat. “Don’t worry. I’m not that stupid.”
I smiled, despite the thought of Alessandra appearing in my mind again. If something were to happen to her, would I care? I was sure I would. It wasn’t because I wanted to simply have sex with her, even though that was on my mind. It was more than that. It was more about the fact that I knew more about her than anyone else in this family, and I had seen her strength. She wasn’t what I had expected her to be. She was much more than just a mafia princess, and I deeply respected her because of it.
