Vinny walked beside me as we headed into the great room to greet those who were also early. Several cousins and uncles stood in a circle talking in low voices. They stopped talking and stared at me. “They look like they’ve seen a ghost,” I whispered to Vinny.
“Don’t let them get to you. I’ll get us some wine.”
He left me standing alone. Not for the first time, I was reminded that, besides my aunt, I was the only woman included in meetings like this. Most of it was due to my father’s insistence. But I wouldn’t have gotten this far without my aunt Filomena.
I’d done everything I could to fit in and prove myself capable. Just as good as one of the boys, or better, if that was possible. My crusade to be treated equally had backfired spectacularly because I’d fallen for my mark. An amateur move. They knew it, and now, I was in trouble. I saw pity in some of their eyes, but in others, cold calculation. I could almost hear them thinking that it served me right for trying so hard to be one of them.
The last to turn toward me was Don Russo, my brother, Carlo.
"Julia."
Carlo stood in the center of the room, arms open but feet planted. Waiting.
My cue to come to him. Not the other way around.
The don doesn't come to you. You come to the don.
Even when the don is your brother.
My legs felt unsteady as I crossed the distance between us. Every instinct screamed that I was walking toward judgment, toward consequences I might not survive.
But this was Carlo. The brother who'd taught me to throw a punch when I was eight. Who'd snuck me into R-rated movies Papa would've killed us for watching. Who'd shown me the family ledgers when he was supposed to keep them secret, because he believed I deserved to understand the business even though I was a girl.
We embraced, and for a moment—just a moment—I let myself feel safe.
Then his mouth was at my ear, voice so low I almost missed it. "I've never doubted you, sister. And I don't now. But let me play the game that needs to be played, okay?"
My breath caught. Relief flooded through me so suddenly my knees nearly buckled.
He believes me. Thank God, he believes me.
I nodded against his shoulder, not trusting my voice.
He leaned in closer, his next words barely audible even this close. "I'm going to have to yell at you. Pretend you're under suspicion. Don't break character, Jules. Fight back, but stay respectful. This will end eventually."
The relief curdled into fresh anxiety. If Carlo had topretendto suspect me, that meant someone in this room—someone at this meeting—actually did suspect me.
Or wanted me dead.
I pulled back and gave him the traditional two kisses, one on each cheek, my mind racing.
Who was watching? Who was Carlo performing for?
"It's great to see you too, Carlo." I kept my voice steady, neutral, giving nothing away.
His eyes held mine for half a second—a warning, a reassurance, a plea for trust all wrapped into one look.
Then his expression shuttered, going cold and distant.
The don's mask sliding into place.
Whatever was about to happen, I needed to be ready.
I needed to play my part perfectly.
Because apparently, my life depended on it.
"Julia Russo, come give your nonno a kiss."
