“That might be important,” she murmurs.
Not as important as you.
“Goddammit, Antonio, what is it?” I answer impatiently, hoping to shut him up.
“My apologies, Capo, but this is urgent. The De Luca bitch and that bodyguard just murdered my brother.”
12
Matilde
Heart in my mouth, I softly knock on the faded green door, one of many apartments in this worn-looking building. “This is a bad idea,” Primo mutters. “Nico will kill me, slowly and painfully, if something happens to you.”
I shoot him a glare.“Signore Morelli is too busy to worry over what a servant does in her spare time,”I say in Italian.
Busy with another mafia war on the horizon that will rob me of Gia and Caterina. I didn’t even get to enjoy a proper visit with Gia the last time we met because of Nico’s interruption. Ritchie Barzetti got what he deserved in my opinion, but his brother demanded blood, and now the Chicago Trio will fight the men of Las Vegas. Men and revenge, driven by pride. It makes me angry.
But what’s worse is that after I shared something so personal and felt so vulnerable with him that night, he has not mentioned it again. Even if I prefer not speaking of my abduction, his silence after I bared my soul wounded me deeply.
It’s not that I wish to use Primo, and I certainly don’t want Nico to hurt him, but I’ve been waiting for this chance. The new Capo is tied up with some huge virtual meeting between the three ruling cities of the Trio today. The twins are with their grandmother who is preoccupied with the old Capo’s health. I asked if I could go to the movies.
Choking back the horrible memories, I went to The Gentleman’s Post instead, climbing the stone steps on wobbly legs. The guard atthe door had shaken his head with disapproval at Primo but let us inside the opulent establishment where my mother had once worked and where she died. I’d nearly lost my courage until I’d spoken to the lady in charge.
“That whore probably made up an address to be rid of us.”
“Her name was Cheryl, and she told us where to find Mrs. Esposito. My sister might be here, too,” I finish in a whisper.
With a beleaguered grimace, Primo lifts his own hand, firmly knocking five times. “No one’s answering. We should-”
The door opens, and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest when I stare into the same eyes that stare back at me from every mirror. “Maddalena?” I murmur, thunderstruck.
Her dark eyebrows draw together with curiosity before she glances at Primo. Having grown up with my father, Primo doesn’t frighten me, but the sight of a Made Man on her doorstep has my twin sister shrinking back and attempting to shut the door again. “I didn’t do anything.”
Primo deftly catches the door before she can close it, and the words come spilling out of my mouth. “No, wait! We mean no harm! My name is Matilde Cerniglia! I don’t know if you know about me, but I come a long way to find-”
My words are cut off when she shrieks and dashes forward, crushing me in an embrace.
***
Through teary eyes, I keep drinking her in, wondering if she’ll disappear in a puff of smoke. Primo reluctantly agreed to wait outside. I wanted privacy, and it was clear he made Maddalena nervous. Herconnection to the mafia is more peripheral than what I grew up knowing.
Her foster mother, Mrs. Esposito isn't home, but I would like to meet her. I’m curious what Nico’s dealings with her could be, but that’s not what matters most now. I want to know Maddalena.
“You knew about me?” I ask.
Maddalena nods. “Mom first told me when I was seven. She would get sad sometimes and drink too much. She’d talk about him then.”
She would talk about our father while he never told me anything until his dying day. Thinking about what he robbed us of, I hang my head, wishing I could ask him more and understand why.
“Was he terrible to you?” Maddalena asks.
Reflecting on my childhood, I shake my head. “No. He was stern, but he did not hit. He gave me a good life, and I knew love.” His love. My stepmother had no love to give me, but I don’t hate her for that.
“I always pictured him as cruel,” my sister hums. It hurts to realize he was, in ways I never knew. “Did he have other children? With your stepmother?”
“No.” I don’t know the reason. I never asked and will probably never know. I feel so cheated. “Did she?”
“Mom didn’t make that mistake again,” Maddalena scoffs, her tone jaded.
