He nodded. “We didn’t become criminal figures, as you call it, until years later though.”
The more I thought about the way Ginevra took Angelia out of my arms, the more I wanted to drive that busted-ass truck back to the Bronx and beat her ass.
“Then what happened?”
“The life happened,” he said, picking up a shard of glass from the floor, examining it. “Paul didn’t agree with my choices. We went our separate ways.”
“Ginevra,” I said.
He looked at me then. “What about her?”
“You,” I said. “She wanted you.”
“At one time.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you have a thing with her? Sharon too?”
“If eyes could kill,” he said in Italian, looking into mine. “No. She never interested me. Neither did Sharon. Even as kids. We all grew up together.”
“Ginevra interested Paul.”
“Enough that he married her,” he said. “To the world, they’re Lina’s parents.”
“I hate that.” I knew he could hear the venom in my voice.
“It won’t be forever.”
“Promise me, Aniello.”
“I swear to you, Rosalia.”
A lump formed in my throat at the conviction in his voice. I turned my back, going back to cleaning the kitchen. “What do you think Paul said to make me run—the first time?”
“That I was going to give him and Ginevra permission to adopt our daughter.”
“Were you?” I said.
This time I refused to turn and look at him while I waited for an answer. He came to me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.
“No,Rosalia,” he whispered in my ear. “She’s as much mine as she is yours. We make decisions for her together.” He sighed. “You found the box under the bed?”
I had. It was filled with numerous IDs that belonged to Aniello. None of them had his real name on them, or even a legit social security number. I wasn’t sure if he had a real one. He was the poster boy for the organization and how scheming they were.
“I have a box for you and for Angelia as well,” he continued after I nodded. “What the world sees is not what is. From the beginning, everyone involved knew her placement was temporary with them.”
“They want more?”
“Sì. They’ve fallen in love with her.”
“She’s ours,” I said, and I knew he’d heard the finality in the statement.
“Per sempre,” he said. “She’ll be in your arms again soon enough.”
I hesitated for a beat or two, but I had to know.
“It’s true, though? I can’t have more children?”
“No,” he said. “You can’t. Angelia’s birth was hard on you.”
