Oblivious, Rem and Aldo keep yelling at each other. The guard that hit the ground is scrambling to find his footing and his gun. The Italian curses are reaching a fever pitch, and my irritation escalates to full-blown anger. “Rem, Aldo—stop shouting!”
When neither do, I grab the heaviest thing close to me—a giant book off one of Aldo’s shelves—and hurl it in their direction.
My aim is shit. I miss the men entirely and instead hit one of the sconce lights behind Aldo’s shoulder. The fixture breaks, the lightbulb explodes, sparks fly, and four heads whip in my direction in comical unison.
“Lena?” Aldo and Rem say at the same time.
“Stop. Fucking. Shouting.” Each word is punctuated by a deep breath. “And stop talking about me in a language I don’t understand. And you—” I stab a finger in Aldo’s direction. “Tell your men to lower their guns. Make them to leave. Now.”
I’m seething, itching to throw another book as I glare at the foursome. When no one moves, I grab another one from the shelf, winding up for what will no doubt be another disastrous throw. “I saidnow.”
“Okay,piccola.” Rem is the one who ushers the guards out of the office, closing the door once they’re gone. Some sort of power shift has happened during their fight, Aldo apparently changing his mind about Rem being a danger to me.
I narrow my eyes at the two remaining men, waving the book between them. “That was too easy. What did you say to each other?”
Rem takes one step closer to me. “I was just reassuring myuncle that I would never hurt you. That I’ve never put your life at risk.”
“Despite being ordered tokillher,” Aldo growls.
“By you,stronzo,” Rem growls back. They are toe to toe and on the verge of another battle.
“Enough.” I slump against the window. “Please, that’s enough. No more fighting. We have other things to discuss.”
Like the fact that Aldo called me his daughter.
A new awareness crackles through the room. Rem brushes past his uncle and is by my side a second later. Despite the eye daggers Aldo is shooting his direction, my husband pulls me into a crushing hug, his lips a welcome pressure against my forehead. “Are you okay,mia amata? Truly, you’re not hurt? Sick?”
“Not physically,” I assure him. “But I could really use a glass of water.”
“Of course.” Rem guides me to the small sofa next to the fireplace. I collapse onto it. He’s back a moment later with a glass of ice water. I sip it cautiously as Rem perches on the armrest next to me, his hand finding a home on the nape of my neck. His touch is warm, grounding as Aldo watches our every move with a calculating gaze.
He lets silence settle before asking Rem, “You didn’t know?”
“No. I didn’t.” No elaborate protest, no prevarication. Just truth in his voice, conviction on his face.
“You’re talking about me again, aren’t you?”
Rem casts me an embarrassed glance. “Sorry. You’re a riveting subject of conversation.”
“Fuck you.” It’s half-hearted, but—“I’m tired of all of this. Of everyone knowing more about me than I do.” I look at Aldo. “So, start talking. You said something before, just when Rem came in… You said…”
I can’t get the words out. Aldo finishes the sentence for me. “That you’re my biological daughter.”
My heart starts pounding really hard, my hands clammy around the glass I’m holding. “Yeah. That.” I have to clear my throat to make the words intelligible. “Tell me more about that.”
Aldo responds by pulling one his leather armchairs closer to the sofa, settling in with all the grace of a king. If anything about the past few hours has unsettled him there’s no indication of it.
His eyes get a far-off look and then he says, “I met Maria Bianchi in our village in Italy when I was in my late twenties. She was young, no more than eighteen. That was the first problem. The second was that I fell in love with her long before she fell for me.”
A smile ghosts across his mouth. I’m not prepared for how sad it is. How wistful.
“The third problem,” Aldo continues, “was that we were forbidden from seeing each other. She was promised to another man. I was promised to another woman and about to take over the Family from my grandfather. Neither of us could afford to break with our families. Running away wasn’t an option.”
Aldo gives me a considering look. “I’m sure it sounds archaic to you, Lena, but arranged marriages are still alive and well within the 'Ndrangheta. It’s how alliances are made, power kept, expanded. If it weren’t for this situation”—he waves a hand between me and Rem— “my nephew would’ve been getting married to a woman of my choosing before year’s end.”
Rem sucks in a breath, as startled by the information as I am.
“Veramente?You can’t possibly be surprised,nipote,” his uncle says. “There’s very little room for love in our world. Not when loyalty trumps everything else.”
