“Armando and Gia’s business is notmybusiness, but my brother and my husband fighting is.”
“Gia is my Consigliere’s wife. It could become my business if she's having an affair with your husband's best friend."
Cat's eyes widen in distress, and I know I've guessed the truth. That will be a problem but only if Ritchie finds out.
"You’re angry with me, aren’t you? Because of Father?” I finally called her a few days ago. Not the way I wanted to share it, but the word was spreading like wildfire.
“It hurts that you kept it from me. You could've told me-”
“He’s been difficult. He didn’t want to tell anyone, but I should've told you sooner.” I kiss her forehead, my silent apology.
“I’m sorry, Nico. I know you’re going through so much,” she sighs. I’m not the one who deserves an apology or consoling. Just more guilt. “Have you given yourself any time to mourn?”
“Our marriage wasn’t something worth mourning. She would’ve been better off if she’d never laid eyes on me.” Her chin starts to tremble.Fuck. “Cat, please… let it go.”
She plasters on a smile for me when I certainly haven’t earned that. “I wish you could’ve brought Matilde here.”
I wish I could’ve, too.“How did you get to know her? You never said.”
Cat evades my stare. “You never asked.”
“I’m asking now.”
“You should ask Matilde about what happened the first time she was in Chicago. And you should allow her to decide if she wants to answer you.”
“The first time she was in Chicago? What does that mean?”
Unfortunately, I get no further answers because Carlo Vicini’s voice suddenly fills the room… after he’s sliced an ear off one of his underbosses.
“Another bloody reception,” I mutter as Caternia turns her face into my chest. She doesn’t want to see the gory sight, and I can’t blame her, but I don’t look away. It serves as another reminder of the violence that surrounds our lives. It haunts my steps, like Margareta’s lifeless eyes, my motherless children and my fear of another failure.
***
A few nights later, it’s snowing when I’m in my office working late and pondering my options. I suggested she could stay with us. She hadn’t given me a response. She’s young and alone in a foreign country. She needs to be protected. My children need a mother. I won’t pretend I’m a good man, but I’m doing what’s best for them.
She was pissed at me earlier today when I picked her up from Gia Barzetti’s house, cutting her visit there short. She accused me of following her. Admittedly, I find myself wanting to do little else.
I decline an unexpected call from Antonio Barzetti when Matilde pokes her head around the door. “The twins are asleep. May I go, sir?”
Sir.
Never Nico.
Glancing at the time, I grimace. “The roads may be slick from the snow. I didn’t mean for you to work so late. I meant to go see my children sooner, too.” I’m failing as a father. But if I can give them a decent mother, maybe I’ll have done one thing right.
“Primo said he can manage the roads.” She gestures toward my covered desk. “You are working late, too. They still wake during the night, yes?”
I nod, tiredly. “Most nights.”
“You are alone here with them,” she says, sounding sad.
I don’t want to be alone.
“Come in for a moment. Take a seat. Why didn’t you tell me you had been in Chicago before you came to work for me?” Alarm flashes in her eyes, awakening my predatory instincts.
“I… I was not-”
“Don’t lie. I'll know, and you know my rules. It’s important that you’re honest with me. You work for me.”
