“Vittoria?”
“Good evening, Don Salvatore.”
His lips twitch.
“She’s been very formal this evening, Salva. She didn’t ask me for mytorcetti.”
A twisted dough cookie—my favorite thing Sylvia makes.
“I want to know why your in-laws are trying to kill me.”
“I take it Alejandro doesn’t know you’re here?”
I shrug nonchalantly, which makes Salvatore laugh.
“Oh, you will not be so smug when your boyfriend finds you. He’s dead or drugged if you’re here alone.”
I force myself not to react since what he said hits the mark.
“You know who my neighbors are, don’t you, Vittoria?”
“I’m guessing someone in Alejandro’s family. Pablo?”
“Yes, on one side. One of my nephews lives directly across the street. I’ve never known you to be so foolish as to arrive somewhere unprotected.”
“You’re assuming I am.”
“Should I have Sylvie check you for a wire?”
“You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“Do I, though? You sneaked into my home, surely armed, while my children sleep upstairs.”
“And if I’d wanted to do you harm, I would’ve. I wouldn’t have been so relaxed as to be caught if my goal was to kill any of you. I just want information.”
“Why’re you so convinced it’s my family, Vittoria? If anyone were to go after you, it would end the alliance with your family.”
“I’m a gun for hire. The rules don’t apply to me the way they do other women. Someone put the hit on Alejandro. And because I didn’t carry it out, I’m now a target too. I’m curious why someone wants to kill Alejandro right now. But I’m more curious why they’d target me as well.”
“You know about this job, and you failed yours. You switched sides. The hunter became the hunted.”
“Plenty of mercenaries fail to complete jobs without being killed, so why the death sentence for me?”
“We need to move this conversation to my office. I don’t want the girls to overhear if they wake.”
Salvatore leads Sylvia and me to his office where he has a biometric keypad to open the door. I’m certain the numeric code that goes along with the fingerprint is more highly guarded than the Vatican’s gold.
“Vittoria, despite you breaking into my home, I’m still glad to see you safe. What your aunt did…”
Sylvia’s expression hardens as she trails off. She andZiaCosima never got along. Sylvia never cared whether she was the most beautiful woman in the room, butZiaCosima did. She couldn’t stand Sylvia’s effortless grace always outshone her hardened beauty. My aunt saw a competition in everything, and Sylvia didn’t give a shit. That made her far more attractive to people thanZiaCosima’s features ever did.
“I’m finding betrayal comes in many flavors right now. Apparently, my aunt not only betrayed me, but our people.”
I wait for any reaction from either of them. I’ll only get what they’re willing to give, which is nothing.
“Ah, so you found out about Cosima’s love life. She spent an awful lot of time going to Reggio. Why no one questioned her love of that shithole is beyond me.”
Of course, the Sicilian thinks Reggio—the capital of the Calabria region—is a shithole. I’m Venetian and agree. But once again, there’s a hierarchy within the Mafia, and Sicilians would prefer they never be lumped in with those of us fromil continente—the continent—mainland Italy. They’d also prefer to think they’re the only ones who merit a capital M, but Mafia is as Mafia does.
