‘Why should I believe you?’ I try to make it sound like a question yet it comes out sounding like a demand instead. ‘Your father wanted my entire family dead.’
‘That is true,’ he concedes. ‘But I am not my father. And it’s this inter-family violence that I’m trying to stop.’ He pauses a moment, his gaze on me intensifying. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Caterina. I give you my word.’
I shouldn’t believe him. I shouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, not when he hasn’t given me any reason to. Yet… I see the truth in his eyes now. He means it. He means every word. This is a solemn vow, as binding as an oath.
The tightly coiled snake in my gut relaxes a little, and I let out a breath. ‘But you told my father you would. Not following through on a threat isn’t going to make you look good.’
‘Oh, I’m going to follow through on it.’ The corner of his mouth curves. ‘At least as far as your father is concerned.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You wouldn’t be the first woman I’ve “killed” who then turns up later with a new identity.’
At first I don’t understand and then his meaning penetrates. ‘You mean you’ll…what? Fake my death?’
He lifts one powerful shoulder. ‘Yes. And I can usually produce some very convincing evidence, too.’
‘So you’ve done it before?’
He gives a quiet laugh that feels as if it’s rolling over my skin like soft, dark velvet. ‘Many times. I want to stop the violence, the killing of innocents, but sometimes the so-called deaths of innocents must be staged in order to ensure compliance. Some of those innocents did not appreciate their new lives, but since it’s better than actual death, they somehow survived.’
The Wolf of Sicily has had many deaths laid at his door in his ruthless grab for power, that’s well-known. Women, children. He’s supposed to have no boundaries, which makes this confession so surprising I don’t know what to say.
He smiles, a warm and genuine one this time. ‘Look at that,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ve finally shocked you.’
‘But…’ I manage. ‘Why?’
‘I might be many things,gattina,but one thing I’m not is a hypocrite.’ That beautiful smile slowly fades, the intensity in his eyes burning bright. ‘The killing will end if it’s the last thing I do.’
The force of his conviction and the almost palpable nature of his will should be frightening, yet I’m not frightened. I’m fascinated by why the head of the most powerfulcosa nostrafamily in Europe has suddenly come to value human lives when he never has before, at least not on the face of it.
‘Why?’ I’m probably too blunt, but who cares? I want to know. ‘I mean, that’s not what everyone says about you. You’re famous for having—’
‘No morals or boundaries?’ he finishes for me. ‘A carefully cultivated lie, once again propagated to ensure compliance.’ He shifts in his chair, a wolf settling into his den, studying me from across the white tablecloth. ‘Though, once it was true. At least it was until I saw you with your terrified eyes.’ Impossibly, his gaze gets even more intense, holding me captive as surely as iron chains. ‘Because of you, Caterina, I found my line in the sand. And because of your mother and brother’s deaths, I decided that I could not let the pointless killing of people go on. It has to end somewhere and I decided it would end with me.’
I thought I could not possibly get any more shocked, but apparently, I’m wrong. He can’t mean that, can he? It seemed ridiculous in the car back in Rome and it seems just as ridiculous here on the terrace now. That me, a five-year-old girl, could change the entire course of a man’s life just by looking up at him in fear?
‘B-but…’ I break off, not able to think of a word to say.
Again, that fascinating mouth of his curves in amusement. He does seem to like shocking me. ‘It’s true,’ he says simply, correctly reading my disbelief. ‘My father was very unhappy with me.’
I blink. Oh, of course. There would have been repercussions for him, wouldn’t there? Stefano Argenti was not a merciful man, by all accounts.
‘What did he do to you?’ I ask point-blank.
The Wolf’s smile changes, bitterness entering into it now. ‘He punished me quite severely for my failure to kill you and your father. But don’t worry, I got my own back.’ His voice has deepened, roughened and again I can hear the darkness in it. ‘My father died as he lived. By the sword.’
A cold shiver ripples over my skin. Even though he hasn’t said anything explicitly, I know that somehow he had a hand in his father’s death. And all at once, I’m aware that this is a very dangerous conversation to be having and with a very dangerous man. A man who has said he won’t kill me, but no matter what he said about staging the deaths of innocents, he’s certainly killed others.
The sun has now vanished below the horizon, lighting the sky on fire, and it’s beautiful. And here I am on my wedding night, sitting and drinking champagne with my new husband, who perhaps won’t kill me after all. Having just been given up by my father who indeed didn’t care if I lived or died.
The pain in my heart aches as the light fades, the child in me hurting at the abandonment even as the adult woman is furious for having even a shred of hope that he might care. That the only people who ever loved me are dead and have been dead for years.
‘Don’t cry for him,gattina,’ the Wolf says quietly and unexpectedly. ‘He’s not worth your tears. This isn’t abandonment. This is the moment you’re set free.’
There’s a lump in my throat and I have to swallow more champagne to get rid of it, but he’s not wrong. My father doesn’t want me. I’m dead to him. Which means I finally have what I’ve always craved, which is to be free of him.
I look across the table at my husband. ‘So, where does that leave you?’
