“God or your father.” She stuck her long, elegant fingers inside the pockets of her expensive jacket.
A man in a suit passed us, one hand on his briefcase and a phone stuck to his ear. I didn’t miss his eyes, though. They roamed over Angelina as he hustled to get out of the cold. It didn’t trouble me. What bothered me was the cold hand that seemed to touch my neck—and it wasn’t the weather.
Angelina had been used as a pawn in this game before she could even string two words together. I was at her side since we were kids. We both understood that love had nothing to do with this arrangement, but I wanted this to be a great union, a powerful one, and I knew it’d be easier if we both held mutual feelings for each other. I expected the kind of respect from her that had its foundation in loyalty.
Lately, though, I could sense something from her that felt off. It wasn’t the first time the cold hand seemed to touch my neck and make my instincts prickle.
“You really are a beautiful man, Vittorio. You should have taken your father’s offer when you had the chance.”
My eyes narrowed, as if I could see her better.See straight through her.These sorts of remarks didn’t sit right with me. Not one to mince words, she was getting better at the art of subtlety. I didn’t fucking like it. Especially when she started throwing words around that she had no business bringing out into the open.
She was right. My father had once given me an out. A chance to live my life the way I saw fit while still doing his dirty work. Instead of being an integral part of the business, he wanted me to be the face of it. I’d own all of the fancy restaurants and grease high society to get them closer to his pocket. He said my looks and charisma would charm them. My brother, Achille, was better suited to be his right-hand man.
It was the only choice my father had ever given me. However, it wasn’t truly a choice. It was a dare. Let my younger brother, who he called The Joker, control the kingdom with him, and what did that make me? A pussy that he’d have no use for. I’d be lower than the ten-dollar guys he hired to clean his tables.
Angelina seemed to know that my father would never let me live it down. Once he found a weakness, he’d stick his finger in the soft spot until the sore refused to heal. Until it healed around him, so he could reopen it anytime he wanted.
My father knew my mother was my only weakness. He still made asinine wisecracks about how beautiful I was, just like her family in Italy, just like she was.
Arturo would never say it to their faces, though. My mother had ties to the powerful Faustis, and unless my father had an immediate death wish, he respected them. The last thing he wanted was for them to come sniffing around. They didn’t, unless you included them in your affairs. Even though Arturo was the King of New York, he couldn’t touch the Faustis. They ruled his world.
After I told my father that I’d rather be dead than let Achille have what was rightfully mine, he laughed like lunatics do and then went to the room he shared with his wife Bambi. Not my mother. Bambi was Achille’s mother.
My father always felt that Achille was better suited for the ruthless part of the business. He was harder in the face, but that was about it. I had proved my worth, despite the reflection that stared back at me in the mirror. My blood and heart was made from the same flesh and bone. I killed just as savagely as he did.
Angelina had never spoken about it before. I had never shared it with her.How the fuck did she know?
“Achille is giving you private information now.” I took a step forward and she held her ground. “Why is that,la mia promessa?”
She laughed, the breath coming out of her mouth in a cold fog. “That’s all you ever call me.Your promised.”
“Would you like me to call you something different? In a month, I’ll call you my wife.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her teeth clenched and her jaw tightened. “All that matters is, I’m yours. I belong to you. Youownme.”
“Your point?”
She laughed even harder and then sighed. “I’m pregnant, Vittorio.”
“Good,” I said. “That pleases me.” It seemed the warnings about protection not being a hundred percent were spot on. I’d always protected myself with her. But there were a few times we were rough and things got shady.
“If my father finds out that I had—”
“He won’t touch you.” If her father found out that I had sex with his daughter before marriage, it could cause some tension. Angelo had a bad temper. He’d go as far as pulling down her pants and whipping her ass with a belt if he found out that she had disgraced him. She was only eighteen, but as the old saying goes,age is just a number. She was mature beyond her years. She had to be.
Her phone rang and she turned from me, searching in her purse. A moment later, the phone was up to her ear and she was talking quietly. Whoever she was talking to, they were talking about where we were headed.
My maternal grandfather’s first cousin, Tito Sala, was in town, and we were supposed to meet at the restaurant Angelina and I planned on going to. While she was busy changing our plans, I sent a quick text to Tito letting him know where he could meet me. Earlier, he said he had something to discuss with me, and it was important. He was married to Lola, a Fausti by blood.
My phone was back in my pocket before she turned around.
“Change of plans,” she said, telling me something I already knew. “Mamma ate at Rosa’s tonight, and not only was it packed, but Ray ran out of veal. I want vealparmigiana.” She touched her stomach. “We’ll go to Dolce instead.”
I nodded but said nothing else. I refused to move. She knew why, so she went on to explain.
“What I repeated to you, I overheard in a private conversation, Vittorio. Your father and Achille were having dinner, and as I passed the dining room, I overheard. You never told me that before.” She shrugged. “It made me curious.”
“It’s none of your business,” I said.
