Maybe this marriage to him is my penance? His way of making me pay for discovering his secrets. His lies.
Or maybe he just enjoys playing with other people’s lives.
Simply because he can.
The last notes of the wedding march fade away as I take my final steps up to the dais, coming to stand next to my groom. His glacial-blue gaze bores into mine with the same intensity as it did the first time we came face-to-face. And my treacherous heart flutters just as wildly now as it did back then.
The night I walked in right after he killed his first wife.
Chapter 1
Several months earlier (Iris, age 24; Adriano, age 43)
Capo Brio Saccone’s party
“Gawd, I’d give anything to be in their place. Wouldn’t you?”
I adjust the flutes on the tray I’m holding, spacing them so the stemware are about an equal distance apart, then glance toward the far corner of the banquet hall where Rina’s gaze has been glued.
Impeccably clad in magnificent floor-length silk gowns, a group of women has gathered near a marble statue of a rearing horse. All four are smiling and chatting while indulging in extravagantly expensive champagne from crystal flutes. The same kind I’m desperately trying not to drop right now. Every single detail about them—from the perfectly coiffed hair, swept up into elaborate updos and adorned with glittering accessories, to the manicured toenails peeking out from their elegant, shiny heels—screams extreme wealth.
“What do you think… How much is Mrs. Cruvello’s necklace worth?” Rina continues, not bothering to wait for my response to her earlier question. She does that quite often, but I don’t mind. “I bet at least two hundred grand.”
“No doubt.” I shrug. “It’s a beautiful necklace.”
“Ugh, must be nice to win the lottery of life and be born into those families.” Rina’s eyes are practically glowing as she ogles the vintage gold necklace around Mrs. Cruvello’s neck. “I’d kill to have something like that. I mean… Someone probablydiddie for her to have it now.” She holds up her hand to shield her lips and whispers, “And I don’t mean of natural causes. Right?”
“Maybe.” I gesture toward her tray, filled with empty glasses. “You should take those to the kitchen before Capo Brio notices them. He’s been hovering the entire night, eyeing everything like a hawk to make sure it’sjust perfect.” I try to make my voice sound like the host of tonight’s event, but fail miserably in reproducing his nasally drawl.
“You’re really something else, Iris. Girl, how can you be so indifferent to all of this? You’ve worked in the households of three different dons for…what? Almost a decade? After seeing how they live, aren’t you at least a bit envious of them?”
I look up, letting my eyes skim over the crowd. “Feeling envious would imply that I’d gladly switch places with one of them. I wouldn’t. As you said, I’ve been around them a long time. Long enough to realize that money can only buythings, never happiness.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe you’re okay with waiting on this lot for the rest of your days, but I’m not.” She leans in as if to share a secret. “Maggie has finally managed to get me in on her gig. I’m starting next Saturday.”
“What?” I whisper-yell, but Rina is already walking away, heading toward the kitchen.
Jesus. Rina has always been a little reckless. While working for Cosa Nostra, she’s been enamored by the wealth she sees on a daily basis, and by the glamorous life it allows. Still, I never expected her to go to such lengths to try to carve out a piece ofit for herself. For months, she’s been talking about her cousin, Maggie, who apparently works at some high-class gentlemen’s club, earning gobs of money every shift. I can only imagine what sort of services the women provide at that place.
I truly hope Rina will reconsider, but something tells me she won’t. She’s been fairly clear about her ambitions. Over the years I’ve known her, she’s also shied away from telling people that she works as a maid. As if earning a paycheck by looking after others is something to be ashamed of. Instead, Rina lied, always making something up that made her look…better, I guess.
Unlike Rina, I don’t have a problem with my job. Being a valued member of Don Spada’s household staff and earning a decent living, enough to put food on the table and keep a roof over my and my mom’s heads, is nothing to be ashamed of.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I venture inside the crowded banquet hall.
The parties that the Cosa Nostra elite throw have always been lavish. Every one an attempt to outdo each other. But tonight might surpass anything I’ve seen before. There are even little cards scattered around the tables, boasting of the top-shelf spirits at the bar and the dinner menu consisting of dishes I can’t even pronounce.
Capo Brio Saccone definitely wants to make an impression. He’s even made sure the staff’s uniforms match the evening’s décor. We’ve all been provided navy satin dresses that are cinched at the waist with wide, pale-blue belts. Our outfits are identical to the cloths adorning the dining tables. In a way, Capo Brio has basically made us into walking, talking, serving high-tops. And each of us was warned that we need to return our uniform in pristine condition, without a single stain.
No one pays me any attention as I continue to weave among the men and women dressed to the nines. From time to time, someone reaches out and snags a flute of champagne from my tray, leaving an empty one in return. They don’t even look at me while they do it. Acknowledging hired help would be seen as a serious faux pasby most members ofla Famiglia.
“Watch it!” an angry male voice growls.
“I apologize,” I mumble and quickly step away from the irritated man, even though it was he who backed into me without looking.
Times like this, having been asked to help serve at an event organized by one of the capos, I truly am thankful that I work for Ms. Zara. In reality, I work for Don Spada, but Ms. Zara is the one who actually runs the house. She hired all his household staff and is overseeing the continuing renovations at his mansion. Aside from ensuring her safety, Don Spada defers all decisions about his home to her. And, although he’s still growly and short-tempered, he treats all the workers well. Because of her.
I smile as I picture the way the big, bad Massimo Spada turns into a sweet, melting pudding for his lady love. He thinks he’s hiding his feelings, but they are plain for anyone with eyes to see. That man’s a goner, as much as Ms. Zara is for him.
