Suddenly terrified she was going to cry, she hurried away, climbing the stairs to her floor and crossing the externalwalkway until she reached Ciro’s apartment. His mother opened it with a beaming smile.
After they’d exchanged a tight embrace and kisses, Gabriella said, “Do you still have my spare key?”
Monica’s face clouded with anxiety. “Yes, but you should know, men have been in your apartment. I tried to call you.”
“I lost my phone,” she lied, although she supposed it wasn’t a proper lie. She had no idea what Tommaso had done with it, so technically it was lost to her.
Everything was lost to her.
Shaking off the icy shiver that snaked her spine, she added, “And don’t worry about those men – Tommaso sent them.”
If Ciro knew she’d married him, that meant his mother definitely did, a thought confirmed when the older woman said, “I heard you married him.”
You’re my whole damn life, Gabriella…
Gabriella closed her eyes on the memory. “I did, but it was a mistake. I’m moving back home now.” She wouldn’t run. That was something she’d made up her mind about on her long walk. If Siena or Mattia or Valeria decided to kill her, then they would kill her. She could run to Antarctica, and still they would find her. Her false passport, assuming it was still in her mattress, was worthless now that Tommaso’s men had found it. Because of course they’d found it. They’d have found everything. Been through everything.
Better to die here, in the place she’d been raised and loved, than die in an alien land surrounded by strangers.
Monica’s eyes were troubled. “You’ve left him?”
“Monica… If you hear anything that worries you coming from my apartment, don’t check on me, okay?”
“Oh, Gabba, what have you done?”
Strangely, her smile at this took no effort to form. “I’ve followed my conscience.”
Chapter Fourteen
The three Espositooffspring who’d put themselves in contention to step into their father’s shoes sat around their mother’s dining table, making their arguments as to why the family should crown them. Well, two of them were arguing. Their words floated around Tommaso, barely seeping into his consciousness.
Mattia, as the oldest, thought the position should be his by birthright. Siena, the youngest and the only female, said his extra years of rotation around the sun made him no more qualified than their grandfather’s cockatoo, who beat him in age by seven years, then dug the knife in a little deeper by pointing out that if their father had wanted Mattia to take control, he would have made it clear while he was alive.
“He didn’t know he was going to die,” Mattia said tightly.
“Marcello Magnani didn’t know he was going to die either,” she countered, referring to another Naples family who operated in the shadows. “But everyone knew Franco was his chosen successor.”
“Franco only had sisters.”
Eyes narrowing into pincers, Siena said, “I am going to be charitable and assume you’re saying that to imply Marcello was a sexist pig.”
“This is a man’s world, Siena. You will never gain the respect of our men or our associates.”
“I’m already earning it.”
“I already have it.”
“You haven’t got the charisma to lead,” she told him bluntly.
Mattia’s jaw tightened. “Maybe not, but the people who matter already respect and fear me.”
“Too much of our business is conducted through human relationships to let it be run by respect and fear alone,” she riposted. “It needs a human touch too. When people like you, it makes them think twice about killing you or starting a war with you.”
“I’ve dealt with the most serious of the threats against our family.”
“Gino Vicario hasn’t been dealt with.”
“He will be. While you’ve been playing with your casinos, Tommaso and I have been working closely together on it.”
