"He doesn't care about me," I said, but it sounded uncertain even to my own ears, especially when my mind flitted to earlier this morning. I tried to shut the memories down, knowing they’d make me blush. Was Cesare still thinking of the ache of being wrapped up in one another? Was that why he’d called Piero?
Piero studied me, eyes a warm brown instead of his brother's gray, but somehow just as sharp." You really believe that?"
"We barely know each other. This marriage is a transaction."
"Wasa transaction. Past tense. Something's changed." He leaned forward. "Why did he spend two hours yesterday finding the perfect dress for you? Why did he personally select those earrings? Why did he call me at 6 a.m. just to make sure someone checked on you today because he couldn't leave his meeting?"
Each revelation landed like a small shock.
"He's invested in the performance," I argued weakly.
"Keep telling yourself that,cognata. But I've known my brother my entire life. I've never seen him care about any woman's comfort or happiness. Until you."
The words settled over me, heavy and impossible to process.
“Maybe… he feels bad about how everything happened. About how I was tricked into it.”
But Piero shook his head slowly. “If you knew the things that Cesare has done… and never felt badly about.”
His expression shifted as I tried to take in the implications of what he’d just said. "About tonight's event—it's Cesare's anniversary celebration. Six years since our father died, since he became Don. All the families gather to pay respect, reaffirm alliances, show strength."
The weight settled on my shoulders like lead. "So it's not just a party."
"Nothing in our world is just a party. This is theater. A display of power. Everyone assessing everyone else, looking for weakness." He paused. "Including Viktor Kozlov."
I tensed. I remembered Viktor from the wedding—ice-blue eyes that had lingered too long. He was obviously someone Cesare was worried about, which meant he should be on my radar too, now that I was a mafia wife.
"Viktor will be watching you closely tonight. Looking for weakness, for cracks in the marriage facade. You represent peace. Strength. Cesare's ability to secure what he wants."
"I'm a trophy to display."
"You're proof of the alliance," Piero corrected gently. "The Lombardo-Monti marriage ended a blood feud."
"Viktor will try to get to you," Piero continued. "Through conversation, intimidation, any opening he can find. He won't do anything obvious. But he'll probe, test, look for leverage. I’m telling you this so you’re ready.”
As the warning settled in, all I could do was nod. Part of me appreciated Piero giving me these details. Another quiet and defiant part resented that I was in this situation; that so much responsibility was being placed on me.
We ate in companionable silence for a while, each of us lost in thought. I finally glanced up and found the courage to ask, “How did you know? At the wedding? Cesare couldn’t have told you…”
His eyes were darker than Cesare’s, almost more of a blue than grey, and sharper; less direct. He glanced at me and than away, chewing slowly before answering: “I’d met Bianca a few more times than Cesare had. When negotiations were happening, in the early stages. She has a way about her. An elegance.” He shrugged, adding blandly, “You don’t.”
The words made me cringe, calling out what I’d known all my life. Bianca was built to be admired, to strut through a life of luxury and jealousy. I wasn’t. How would I get through tonight without making a fool of my husband, a man who wasn’t afraid to wash his hands in blood if it meant preserving the respect he deserved?
“Don’t worry,” Piero murmured, standing and wiping his hands on a towel. “You did well at the wedding. You’ll do well tonight, too. And Cesare would never let you fail. With him at your side, you’re safe.”
Piero gathered the dishes and put them in the sink to soak, cleaning up deftly. He must be used to cooking here.Maybe he’ll come again, I hoped a little desperately. It was lonely here.
But the thought of a family dinner with my husband and brother-in-law, laughing and watching the two of them interact, was overshadowed by the reality of the situation. And who I was really married to.
At the elevator, Piero paused. "Can I give you some advice?"
"Sure."
"Give Cesare a chance. Underneath all that control and coldness, there's a man who's capable of more than he shows." He paused. "You're getting under his skin, Paola. That's dangerous for him. But maybe it's exactly what he needs."
The door began to close.
"Good luck tonight. Remember: you're a Monti now. Act like it."
