“How are you feeling about everything today?” she asks, cracking a few eggs into a bowl.
“Emotional,” I truthfully reply, and she nods. “I’m glad there are no more secrets though.”
“Me too.” She whisks the eggs with a fork. “I thought I knew all there was to know about the past, but it’s clear I don’t.”
“It’s a shame you can’t talk to Leo or Natalia.” I prop one hip against the counter, watching as she adds seasoning to the egg mix. “I bet they would have more insights.”
“I thought of that too, but I can’t divulge my identity to the Mazzones.”
“Agreed. It would be too easy for them to connect the dots. To figure out what your real agenda was.” I run my fingers over her long dark hair. “They can’t ever find out.”
She places bacon on the skillet. “No, they can’t.”
“What are you going to do about Renzo?”
Pain darts across her face at the mention of his name. “I don’t know. His action can’t go unpunished.”
I press a kiss to her brow. “We don’t have to decide his fate now. I’m going to grab a quick shower before breakfast. For now, try to put it out of your mind. We’ll go over our story for The Commission in the car. Let’s just get through this first hurdle, and then we can discuss how to handle your underboss.”
ChapterForty-One
Catarina
Everyone piles out of the crematorium, and I’m grateful the charade is over. I’m also grateful Don Mazzone and The Commission accepted our explanation, and they believe the Bratva is responsible for everything. Ben is working closely with his contacts on an extradition order for Anton Smirnov, and he has provided additional security at the funeral today to ensure the Russians get nowhere near me or Massimo.
I stand outside the entrance with Massimo and Fiero at my side, surrounded by armedsoldatias I watch Anais thank the guests for coming at the top of the steps. Cruz stands alongside her, supporting his wife. I didn’t miss the venomous looks he leveled at Massimo and Fiero during the ceremony, and I plan to find some time to talk to him today. He is one of the loose ends I need to tie up.
I tried talking to Anais earlier in the week when I visited their house—after the ashes were left anonymously at her door—but it was impossible. She’s devastated at the loss of her father and not handling it well.
“We should head to the house,” Massimo says, placing his arm on my lower back. “I don’t like being out in the open for too long.” He’s been uber protective these past few days, and I only love him more for it.
It’s a relief to have no more secrets between us. I thought telling him the truth would drive us apart when the reality is it has drawn us closer. “I love you.” I make a point of telling him every day because I feel so incredibly lucky to have Massimo in my life. I never want him to forget what he means to me.
“I love you too.”
“Let me talk to Anais before we go. I just want to ensure she’s okay.”
Massimo doesn’t protest, leading me toward the entrance as Anais and Cruz descend the steps. Cruz whispers something in Anais’s ear before walking off as we make our approach. He tosses a snide look at us, making his feelings crystal clear.
“Hey.” I walk to my sister and pull her into a hug. “Are you holding up okay?” Massimo hangs back a few steps to give us privacy.
“What do you think!?” She sniffles, extracting herself from my embrace. “My father was just brutally murdered and hand-delivered to my door in a bag of ashes like some…some commoner!” Tears stream down her face. “Of course, I’m not okay!”
Massimo passes me a tissue, and I hand it to her.
She dabs at her tears. “I don’t expect you to understand,” she says over a sob. “You hated him.”
“He hated me too,” I gently remind her. “And that’s got nothing to do with my concern for you. I am sorry you’re hurting.” It is the most I can offer her. Guilt pricks at my skin seeing her so upset and knowing I am the cause of it.
“How could someone do this to him? He was one of the most powerful dons in the US, and he didn’t deserve to die in such a ghastly manner.”
She is as delusional as she is dramatic. Very few dons had much time for Saverio Salerno. He wasn’t well respected or liked. And she actually has no clue how he died. No one does. It’s all supposition. She’s not wrong though. He did die without honor, but it was no less than he deserved. “The Russians don’t share our code of honor,” I say.
Her eyes blaze with potent anger. “Those fucking bastards are going to pay for this.”
“They are being dealt with,” Massimo says, stepping up closer. He places his hand on my back as he looks my sister directly in the face. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Massimo. I am sorry we are meeting under these circumstances.”
“I know who you are.” Her assessing gaze roams appreciatively over him from head to toe.
