“That dress is bomb,” Chiara says and winks at me, which I take to mean that she wants to add that Matteo will love it too.Lidia nods enthusiastically to her words.But Mom wipes a lonely tear from her cheek.
My heart sinks back down to the bottom of the pit in my stomach, where it’s been since the rejection last night.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”I ask.
She shakes her head, sighing deeply and wiping another tear away.
“No, really, what?”I ask and walk to her, the dress dragging on the floor behind me.
I take her hands and squeeze tight, feeling the wetness of the tears on her fingers.My sisters are looking at her with concern too.
She smiles a very tiny smile.“It’s just that… we should be shopping for wedding dresses for you girls.I want to see you settled so badly, what with everything going on.I want you to be happy and married and living your lives.Instead, you’re stuck at home or here with me.”
“It’s fine, Mom,” Chiara says.“Better the devil you know.”
Mom, shudders, and I give Chiara a warning look.This is not the time to air all those grievances over arranged and loveless marriages.For a wonder, she looks away and stays quiet.
“The time for that will come too, Mom,” I say.“And I’m not missing much, I’m sure I’m not.”
I’d feel like a hypocrite for saying that, seeing as I’d just made a promise to myself that I’ll run away with Matteo if he’ll have me.
But he won’t have me.
So I’ve just made another promise to myself.
To stop being an idiot who thinks she found love with the first guy she’s ever kissed.To stop betraying my family and my duty because I like those kisses so much.
My family needs me, and they love me.Matteo doesn’t even want my body.There is no choice, so the choice is easy.I’m done with him.
Chapter38
MATTEO
We’re huddledinto the study of Angelo’s mansion.The air is thick with cigar and cigarette smoke, making my eyes sting and my throat scratch.But at least it also masks the heavy scent of cologne mixing in the air from all the men present.There’s the guys from Chicago, the Russians, even some Irish and Japanese.Possibly some Serbs and Albanians too.Angelo has clearly amassed quite an army of support.I wonder what he promised them.
But not as much as I wonder how he plans to deliver on all those promises.And what happens to us all if he can’t deliver on them?Nothing good, I’m sure.
I have no friends in this city save for Nico and possibly Angelo.The Russians still hate me, I can tell that by their nasty looks and grumbling in my direction each time I glance at them.They won’t let me live long if Angelo’s plan doesn’t work out.They might not even let me live long if it does.But I’m used to watching my back, been doing it for most of my life in one way or another.
Not much of the garden outside this mansion can be seen because the night is so dark and absolute.But I see some stars twinkling in the sky in the distance and I imagine the garden is vast.Lush and green.The perfect sanctuary.Just like Goldie’s bedroom.That’s a sanctuary too.Her arms and her kisses and everything else she wants so desperately to give me would be too.A soft, golden sanctuary.I wish I could just take it… take her and bring her to a garden like the one out here.A vast, endless garden where we could just be together.Safe.
“All right, I am ready to begin,” Angelo says loudly and the din of conversation and clanking of glasses fades to silence.I turn from the window to face him too, slowly.Because I don’t want to leave that golden sanctuary yet.Even if it’s just in my head.Don’t know when I got so soft for her.Must’ve been after the first kiss.Or was it all the way in the beginning, at the night club?
Doesn’t matter now.
Angelo is standing in the middle of the room, the crystal tumbler of scotch he’s holding breaking the light and sending spikes of golden light from his hand.I hope that’s some kind of omen.I hope he’s bringing the light.
“I have decided it is best to kill the immediate members of the ruling families.”
A whoosh goes over the room, but as far as I’m concerned it’s like wind hitting marble.That’s how I feel.Like a slab of marble, cold, immovable, dead yet alive with all the swirling shapes echoing terrible memories.
Angelo glances in my direction.I wonder if he sees my shock.My panic.But he can’t.I’m stone.
“We’ll spare the women,” he says.“If they go meekly.Because they will be useful to us as brides and gifts and so on.”
Well, that’s something.I guess.
Angelo averts his eyes and looks at the Russians, raising his glass to them.“I know you’ve taken a liking for Codelli’s oldest daughter,” he says to them and they affirm it by getting loud and raising their glasses too.
