I clear my throat, and he drops the curtain.
“Dante. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Like the crypt keeper I’ve always thought of him as, he turns around slowly. His expression, when it comes into view, is stone hard.
He’s wearing all black. Even his tie is solid black. His hair is slicked back from his face with a thick layer of gel that makes it look more like a helmet than hair.
When I was a little girl, I knocked on it once to see if it was as hard as it looked.
I didn’t do it a second time.
“I arrived this morning.” He snaps his heels together, standing straighter and folding his hands in front of him.
“I spoke with Uncle Vicente the other day; he didn’t mention you’d be visiting.”
“That’s because I’m not visiting. I’m here permanently.”
“Permanently?” I clear my throat trying to get rid of the telling tremor in my voice. “I didn’t realize…no one mentioned.”
He looks around the room, like he’s inspecting it, judging it. When he brings his attention back to me, he has a smug grin.
“You’ve settled in already. I thought it would have taken you at least a month before you forgot all about your brothers, but it seems you’ve already gotten over the loss.”
I roll my shoulders back. “What are you talking about?”
“Look at you, you’re not a woman in mourning.”
Instinctively, I look down at my clothing. Light blue blouse, light denim jeans, while he’s drenched in black.
“There’s more to grief than the color of my clothing.” At least there should be, but in my case my heart doesn’t feel any loss.
Not the way a sister should when all of her brothers are cold in the ground.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He takes a step toward me, and I can’t help myself—I retreat back. “Are you afraid of me?”
“What? No.” I laugh as though he’s being ridiculous. But he’s not.
I’ve seen what Dante is capable of; his mother named him well.
“Has your husband filled your head with lies about your family? Made you hate where you’ve come from?” The darkness in his gaze emphasizes his heavy tone.
“I haven’t talked to him about our family.” I haven’t talked to him at all in three days, since I informed him about Tommy. But bringing up Tommy to Dante is like bringing a lit match into a gas-filled room.
Dante narrows his eyes. “You haven’t forgotten who he is, what his family has done, have you?”
“I’m aware of what he did.” I fist my hands.
“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.” He takes another step toward me, but this time I remain right where I am.
Letting Dante smell fear only fuels him. Showing it to him excites him.
“He and his brothers killed Marco, Michael, and Tony.” Saying the words out loud should invoke anger in me. My husband killed my brothers, but there’s a small part of me that feels only relief.
“That’s right. And they’re trying to ruin us completely.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” I shrug.
“Marco always said it was better to keep you innocent, but Marco’s not in charge of the family anymore.” The tips of his shoes press against my toes as he towers over me. “I am.”
