Page 53 of Unlock My Heart

Next on my to-do list is a stop at the pet store before returning home, where I gather up my supplies in the bathroom.

Lifting the lid of the urn, I examine the great Michele D’Amico, reduced to ashes. A smile stretches my cheeks as I unseal the inner bag and pour half of my husband into the toilet.

Giving Michele a satisfying flush, I mix his remaining ashes with cat litter. Stepping out of my panties, I hike up my dress and squat over the urn, pissing in it. “Ahhhh.”

RIP.

Rest in piss.

The priest carries on in Latin as my fingers lovingly trace the lace edges of my black mantilla veil. It’s the first piece I’ve created in years.

After the pet store, my next stop was the sewing shop, where I purchased new bobbins and materials. While my creation isn’t perfect—time restraints and lack of practice resulted in the fabric puckering in multiple places—I’m still so damn proud of how it turned out.

The service concludes, and I continue with my award-winning role of grieving widow, accepting condolences from members of the family.

“Sorry for your loss.” The boss tells me without inflection.

“Thank you, Angelo,” I say demurely, grateful that my face is hidden beneath the veil. I’ve had to stop myself from cackling like an evil witch on multiple occasions.

“Interesting that Michele died of pneumonia; I didn’t realize he was sick,” he muses.

“Angelo, you’re being rude.” Alessandra chastises her brother, hugging me.

“I’m not being rude; I was merely unaware of Michele’s declining health,” Angelo tells his sister, but the accusation is clearly directed at me.

“The family does like to play health matters close to the vest.” It’s a bold statement, one I probably shouldn’t make concerning the boss’s dead father, but I’m tired of being bulldozed by these Calvani men.

Appearing unaffected, he continues, “Also interesting how Michele’s assistant Jade likewise died of pneumonia.”

“Is it?” I counter. “I’m no doctor, so I’ll have to defer to their medical expertise.” Besides, how my husband was murdered isn’t my concern. As for Jade, how that bitch was murdered isn’t Angelo’s concern.

“Now you’re just being morbid,” Alessandra interjects, scolding her brother. “Sienna, we’re sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” I tell her.

She nods, walking off, but the boss hangs back.

“Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten about the hostess situation. You and I are going to have a sit down this week,” he warns.

“Really, Angelo?” I chide, ignoring the spike in my pulse. “Business at my husband’s funeral?”

“Be careful, Sienna. Pneumonia’s going around, or so I’ve been told.” With that parting threat, he strolls off.

Calvani men. Assholes, the lot of them.

Fabien

“This is a new look.” I give Al’s freshly dyed jet-black hair a playful ruffle.

My sister grins. “I like to keep things interesting around the Calvani house.”

“How are things with the family?” I ask between sips of cherry cola. “Did you go to Michele’s funeral?” Regretfully, I couldn’t be there in person. Not for the funeral, but the murder. His death would have been neither quick nor merciful had I been.

She nods. “Not that I wanted to, but blah, blah, blah, ‘family above all else.’”

“Did you see Sienna?” I try to play it cool, but having not laid eyes on the woman for nearly a decade, it was like a jolt of adrenaline straight to the heart being in the same room as her. In my memories, she was always the most beautiful girl in the world. And my memories don’t hold a candle to the woman of today. All confidence and sexy curves, with a sharp edge about her that time has only forged into a deadly weapon. Worth the risk of life and limb.

Fate’s been a real motherfucker keeping us apart, but I’m going to win my girl back if it’s the last thing I do. And this time, I’ll keep my promise to Sienna.