“You didn’t tell her,” she accused.
“Tell her what?”
“You said you were going to try and get Gaetano out of jail. Is that true—or were you just saying that so I’d let you in?”
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Then why not tell her?”
Valerio shook his head. “Does it matter?”
Ravenna’s dark eyes were wide. She took a step towards him. “She’s dying, Capo. There’s no help for it. The only thing we can offer is comfort.”
The compassion in her face was a rebuke.
“You heard her,” Valerio protested. “She works for Luca Errichiello, and she calls him a good man! Do you have any idea what he does? What he is?”
“So, you punish her for his sins?”
“I refuse to feel pity for someone who closes her eyes to the evil around her so she can take advantage!”
His voice sounded loud, echoing in the stairwell.
“She closes her eyes so she can survive,” Ravenna replied quietly. “Have you never done the same when you were ashamed of yourself?”
The words stung.
She reached out a hand. “Come,” she said. “Come back and tell her that you’ll help Gaetano. Give her that, at least.”
“I may not be able to get him out of Poggioreale.”
“Tell her you’ll try.”
He gazed up into those dark eyes as she searched his face. A question hovered between them. He felt the pressure of it—as if she wasinvoking something from him, as if she expected or needed him to be more than he was. For a moment he wanted to be that person she was summoning. His neck felt hot. He broke contact.
“You can tell her, if you want,” he said, then hurried down the stairs.
Eight
The world was turning grey when Nikki was awakened by a knock on the door and the buzz of the doorbell. A baritone voice sang out: “Ciao, bella! Nina! Nina! Nicole Angelina Serafino! Time to wake up!”
“Quiet!” someone from a neighboring flat shouted. “Don’t you know the time?”
Nikki groaned and threw off the covers.
The cold tiles stung her feet as she marched to the entryway and turned the key. She pulled the heavy door wide, letting in a gust of frigid air.
“Babbo, what are you doing here?”
Raoul Serafino was wearing one of his two favorite suits: charcoal grey with a white collared shirt, open at the neck.
He kissed her cheeks, bringing the smell of outdoors and the tang of aftershave.
“Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?”
Nikki checked her watch. “It’s not even six. What time did you get up? Four thirty?”
He clapped his hands and smiled in that way she remembered from long ago: a signal of adventure.
