“Don’t worry about it,” Ekaterina said, kind as always. “I think I know a little about how overwhelming it is. You needed time to process it without a bunch of people asking you how you are with those sympathetic faces?”
“It’s like you’re reading my mind,” I sighed.
We walk in silence for a moment, and I run my hands along the lavender border, breathing in the wonderful scent. The smells of a big city, redolent with car exhaust, cigarette smoke, the combined scent of a million different cuisines… none of them seemed to make it up to this exalted height.
“Did Dario tell you about my abduction?” she asked.
“Um, a little,” I said, “about the auction, and Schmidt.” We both shuddered. “I’m so glad Giovanni saved you in time.”
“Me, too,” she agreed fervently. “Look, my experience was nothing compared to yours. Nothing, but-”
“Ah-ah!” I scolded, “Trying to measure who had the most traumatic experience is a terrible idea. Fear and grief hurt the same, no matter how severe the experience.”
“Nicely said,” she said. “I’ll have to remember that. At any rate, what I meant to say is that every one of my sisters-in-law has suffered in a similar way. My brother Maksim’s wife Ella was kidnapped by a Bratva rival who tortured her until he could save her.”
“That’s so horrible,” I said, feeling heartsick for a woman I didn’t know. I didn’t know the names of those poor women in Schmidt’s dungeon and I still grieved their loss.
“There are more stories, and as you meet the members of our extended family you’ll probably hear them,” Ekaterina continued. “But you are part of this family now, too. You’re part of a sisterhood.”
“A sisterhood based on trauma bonding?” I blurted it out before thinking how tacky it was.
Fortunately, she found it hilarious. “Exactly! It’s one of the reasons I gave you the phone, I want you to know that you can call at any time. We allgetit. Every one of us has suffered loss, but we’re family, and we get through it together. I just want you to know that when you’re ready, maybe we can help you process this.”
“That’s… god Ekaterina, that’s really kind,” I said, feeling all kinds of emotional.
“Well, being a Mafia wife is for life,” she said. “It helps to talk to other women in the same position.”
I stopped walking, “What do you mean, for life?”
Before she could answer, Dario found us.“Bellissima,we need to head home.”
“Oh, sure,” I tried to smile. We had a long talk ahead of us when we got back to Boston.
Dario insisted on being wonderful. As the helicopter rose, he pointed out the Statue of Liberty, out on her little island. “Would you like to see her up close?” He was wearing that slightly manic grin again.
“What… Can we do that?” I asked, trying not to get too excited.
“For you,mia leonessa?Anything,” he proclaimed, steering in her direction.
I may come from old money, but that doesn’t mean my life included taking any risks until I ran away. Everything was regimented, the proper art galleries, the photo-worthy nature spots.
Every adventure has been on my own, until now, with Dario. Who else would fly me so close to the most iconic statue in America that I could see the individual sheets of copper in that section of her robe, the perfect shape of her face, and the amazing torch. Dario flew me around Lady Liberty twice before he listened to a stern-sounding message in his headset and answered back with a curt, “Roger that.”
Looking back as we flew away, I waved goodbye to the Lady and he watched me with a smile. “Hey, baby. You want to buzz the Brooklyn Bridge before we head home?”
“Can we do that?” I started laughing. “Oh, I just said the same thing about our apparently unapproved tour of the Statue of Liberty. So I guess the correct answer in Dario-ese is, ‘We can do whatever the hell we want?’”
“Now you’re getting it!” he said approvingly, and I squealed, an embarrassingly little girlish noise, but as we sped toward the lit suspension bridge, it seemed right.
Chapter Eighteen
In which there are vows of fidelity and panic attacks.
Cora…
Damn him for being so sweet.
By the time Dario came home the next day, I wanted to throw him off the roof of his fancy penthouse because staying mad at him was becoming really difficult. First, the amazing trip to Manhattan to get me out of the house, the once in a lifetime - and probably highly illegal - up close and personal tour of the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge, and then carrying me from the helicopter when I fell asleep and putting me to bed.
