“Aurélien has been killed as well. He was found in a secret room that connects to the church.”
I blinked at her. “Who is Aurélien?”
“The Frenchman hired to take you. You are lucky he has been killed. If not, he would have succeeded in taking you. You would be turning tricks at a cheap circus to Sheena Easton tunes, left to his company.” French rolled off her tongue as easily as it did mine.
Assassin Moe had a name. Aurélien. Seemed fitting.
I didn’t have much time to ponder over all these newfound questions. The door flew open and Giovi stood in the middle of the frame, breathing like a raging bull that just lost his testicles. “You.” He pointed at me. “Come!”
* * *
Giovi directed Enzo to parade me in the streets. Attempting to lure Brando—he was close, I could feel it—and family out. Giovi never said so to me, but it was the only reason I could think of. He never allowed anyone to bring me out in public before. He knew the Faustis were in town. I got the feeling he hoped Brando would react like a maniac and get himself killed.
Enzo seemed to itch for the same sort of reaction. He’d tell strangers who stopped on us on the street that I was to be his wife. He would put a hand to my lower back, a move meant to show ownership.
This is mine now. Not yours. If you feel otherwise, challenge me.
I knew how powerful the Faustifamigliawas, and for them to not have stormed this place only meant one thing. Lothario refused to get me back. It wouldn’t be beneath him to deny Brando help, hoping that we were both killed. He was the head of the family, and unless all parties agreed that his decisions were harmful to the family collectively, no one would stand against him—not on our account.
The lack of more power gave Giovi the upper hand. He had men all around, and if Brando or anyone else associated with the Faustifamigliawould’ve come close, it was the last thing they’d ever do.
My husband wasn’t a fool though. He wouldn’t react on a whim. Even if he attempted it, one of his brothers or the stronger men would remind him of what was at stake.
Giovi was crazed, and understandably so. His only son had been murdered, had his chest opened up and his heart ripped out. Perhaps while it was still beating. He was losing his edge, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he started to take his rage out on me.
This all seemed like a bunch of trial and error for him. I was the lab rat.
I took hold of the loose dress that had been given to me, fanning myself with it. I hadn’t gained any weight. If anything, I had wilted even further. The weather was close to scalding and as dry as the desert. A fiery stream of light beat directly on me. Using my arm, I wiped beads of sweat from above my lip and coughed. Dr. Nicchi had pumped me full of antibiotics that worked. Still, from time to time a tickle would cause me to cough. I could still taste the sour of the sickness that had plagued me, like my lungs still had a bit of dust to get rid of.
Enzo had me in town, forcing me to shop for groceries. Residual soil leftover on the produce seemed to irritate whatever it was that I had suffered with, but not to the extent that I felt ill from it.
While Enzo spoke to the man dishing out pistachios, I became very still.
Brando. He was close. If I breathed in deeply enough, his essence alone seemed to float through the air, coming straight for me.
Don’t you dare even try it! There are men all around!I thought.
Without warning, Enzo slid one hand in my hair, the other around my waist, and we were moving toward the side of a building. His breath washed over my face, his knee coming between my legs, pushing them apart. He rubbed his nose against mine, slow and soft.
I tried to turn my face, but he used the hand weaved in the threads of my hair as leverage. Brando couldn’t hear me, but he could understand the language of hands.I’m okay, I signed.Stay back. It’s a trap.
“You are a naughty one, aren’t you?” Enzo whispered in my ear, as seductive as a lover. It had the opposite effect on me. He was nasty asallget out. “I know he’s here.”
He licked my ear lobe. I stifled a gag. “He hates this. I know he does.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “You are the type of woman who causes nations to go to war. I like that. Pretty soon, you will be mine.”
He put his hand to the spot where I had hidden the glass. It was scabbed over, but sensitive.
“Ah, the doctor found the glass on you. There is nothing to protect you from me now. Except those fools I used to callfamiglia. If they would make a move, it would make life easier. With your husband gone, I will terminate Giovi. All in time. We are the most powerful family in Italy, always have been, and always will be. I will lead them soon. Lothario is not the man his father was.
“If he were going to save you, he would have already done so. Your husband is probably alone, with a small following. My father was Lothario’s most trusted confidant. Lothario shared all of his thoughts with him. You and your husband are better off dead to him. Less trouble.”
Enzo had been so concentrated on making a show of his moves that he didn’t notice the cart ofcucuzza(long squash) next to us. Called the serpent of Sicily, it’s a longish gourd that almost resembles a cucumber, just a lighter green with a lot more bulk, and roughly the size of a small arm. It’s also called “baseball squash.” It had enough heft to whack someone on the head with it and expect them to take a step back.
So, that was what I did. Enzo stumbled back, eyes wild, not sure what had struck him. My feet were already on the move by the time he realized it was a humongous gourd. The problem with having guards placed every foot or so around you was that there wasnoplace to run. A short, hairy man named Ronaldo grabbed me. Hetskdat me and shook his head. We both knew it was a waste of time to even try to communicate. Instead, he waited for a wild-eyed Enzo to shake the gourd out of his hair and meet up with us before he opened his mouth and a stream of spicy Sicilian came out.
The two went back and forth for a few minutes before Ronaldoshoved me toward a car that had one seat left. I was instructed with hand gestures to sit.Enzo stood by the car, hands on hips, breathing like an asthmatic while he glared at me.
My breath mimicked his. Brando had been close to intervening. If I had to guess, one of his brothers or Donato had stopped him before he could get his head blown off. Enzo knew he was close too. Whether he felt him or the anxious vibe I had been sending out, he wasn’t as upset as he should’ve been. Enzo felt secure that the lure was doing its job.
