27. Lia
Chapter 27
Lia
The church is stuffy, filled with the nauseating scent of too many flowers, and the hushed whispers of mourners, asking, “Why would someone want to kill her?”
I’m not one of the mourners, despite the amount of people giving me their condolences.
I shift uncomfortably in the hard wooden pew sandwiched between Rafe and Dante as another lady approaches. Luckily, she heads straight to Dominic.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says. “She was such a lovely woman.”
Nobody knew her.
Nobody knows she’s not his wife.
“If only everyone knew who she really was,” I murmur to Rafe.
“It’ll be over soon.” Cade presses his hand over my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. He sits beside Rafe, like me he never wanted to attend.
I wonder how many of the people here actually cared for my stepmother, and how many are here out of obligation for Dominic.
Though, I’m no better. I’m here for appearance’s sake, nothing more.
The air feels heavy with tension as we wait for the service to begin.
I smooth down my black dress, more out of nervous habit than for any proper concern for my appearance. But as I do, goosebumps pop on my arms.
I scan the crowd, looking at the sea of black-clad figures filling the pews. Noting familiar faces and strangers alike, all wearing appropriately serious expressions, but nobody stands out. It doesn’t stop me from feeling I’m being watched.
I glance around again. This time it’s the ornate stained glass windows that catch my eyes as it casts colorful patterns across the stone floor.
Finally, the organ plays softly in the background, drowning out the words of those around me.
“Are you okay?” Rafe asks.
“I am. Are you?”
Since we arrived, Rafe has sat upright and alert. He is so much more guarded since his kidnapping, his eyes constantly moving, assessing potential threats even here in this divine space.
To his left, Cade stares ahead, but I watch as he taps the gun underneath his suit jacket.
And then to my right, Dante exudes an aura of calm authority, his face a mask of mourning. He’s better at this than I am.
I should feel something, I suppose - sadness, regret, even anger. But I feel hollow. My stepmother and I were never close, but our relationship disintegrated before her fake marriage to Dominic. Our exchanges became worse afterward, nothing but a bitter war of thinly veiled hatred.
Dominic sits in the pew in front of us. He never wanted to be a pallbearer for Helena. He decided his place was with Milly and Amara today. “She’s dead. I can’t help her now, but I can help your sisters.”
Rafe thought it was strange. I agreed with Dominic. My sisters need him more than she does now. Especially Amara, as she leans her head on his shoulder.
A hush falls over the congregation as the church doors open.
I glance over my shoulder. The pallbearers enter, carrying the ornate coffin on their shoulders. Polished teak wood and gleaming brass fittings. My stepmother would have approved of its ostentatious elegance.
The procession makes its way slowly down the aisle. Rafe tenses beside me. His hand brushes against mine. “You okay?”
I watch as the coffin is laid out at the front of the church, surrounded by a sea of white lilies. “Absolutely fine.”
As the priest steps forward to begin the service, I take a deep breath. Dominic sits taller.
I steel myself for what’s coming, wondering about the secrets Helena took to her grave.
There’s too many hymns, prayers, and people who don’t even know her talk about her life.
How perfect she was.
How loved she was.
And worse, how her children would feel her loss.
I don’t know these people. How the fuck would they know?
I’m glad when the church bells ring and know soon Helena will be buried, deep in the ground.
Outside, the air is heavy with the scent of lilies and freshly turned earth.
My men protectively flank me. I get it. The cemetery is full of Mafia people.
At first, I’m surprised my father, Mac, not Antonio, is nowhere to be seen. But then I realized why he never wanted to go to Amara’s eighteenth birthday party. He knows the moment his face is known, he’ll either die or be expected to take over his father’s old role.
Giuseppe Rossi only had one child, the very undead Fredrico Rossi, now otherwise known as Mac Bailey, or my father. And now the Rossi role will soon be taken over by my father’s cousin.
I overheard Eduardo wasn’t thrilled about that. He wanted the Rossi family discarded forever—just like he wanted with the Moretti’s.
The Bastard.
But that bastard is going to have a shock today.
All eyes are on us as we take our seats at the graveside. This time, Rafe and Cade flank either side of me and Dante stands behind me, his hands firm on my shoulders. The three of them are protecting not only the babies, but me as they form a human shield around me.
I feel so loved.
Romeo and Mateo Conti stroll past, each man staring at the four of us together.
I give them a quick nod.
“What happened to you, Con?” Eduardo asks Mateo, who must’ve been in a fight since the day of Ricardo’s death. His gaze falls on Rafe’s face, which isn’t nearly as bad as it was.
Mateo laughs, looking at Rafe. “We had a boxing match.”
“Boxing … I haven’t boxed since I was a kid in Italy.” He says the words, but his eyes land on mine before they drift upward to Dante. He chooses not to say whatever is on his mind.
Dominic follows. He’s chatting to Antonio, and has a protective arm around Amara’s shoulder while Milly holds her hand.
“Is everyone going to the wake?” Eduardo asks Dante, but nobody else.
“We’ll go for an hour or so,” Dante responds curtly, as the priest asks everyone to take a seat and he begins.
As the priest’s words fade into the background, I can’t shake the creeping sensation that started in the church and has been growing since we arrived at the cemetery.
The feeling I’m being watched.
I press my hand over the back of my neck as the small hairs there stand on end.
I fight the urge to glance over my shoulder. Instead, I take out my sunglasses from my purse, cover my eyes and then I scan the crowd gathered around the grave, trying to appear casual.
Everyone looks the same. An ocean of black-clad mourners swims together, faces half-hidden behind veils and dark sunglasses. But somewhere among them, I swear I can feel eyes boring into me, adding to my growing unease.
Rafe must sense my discomfort because he shifts slightly closer, his arm brushing against mine. The subtle contact grounds me, reminding me I have my men now.
Dante grips my shoulders, letting me know no-one will get through him. And on my other side, Cade’s eyes flick across the gathered crowd. Does he feel the same thing as I do?
Who could be watching us? Is it just paranoia, or the result of my new life?
After the coffin is lowered into the ground, the priest invites the mourners to step forward and toss handfuls of dirt onto the coffin. I don’t move. Instead, I watch everyone else.
My back shackles as I watch a man reach into his pocket. My hand takes the grip of the gun strapped to my thigh. I wore a dress for this reason. There’s enough fabric for me to twist the gun underneath and shoot a person.
But when the man takes out a yellow rose and throws it on Helena’s coffin, I let out a relieved breath.
Mourners approach Dominic. One by one, people offer their condolences, their voices an indistinct murmur against the backdrop of rustling leaves and distant traffic.
He stands tall despite his grief, the silver in his hair catching the late afternoon sunlight. His face is a mask of composure.
“I’m going to talk to my father,” Dante whispers in my ear.
I nod and watch him stroll toward him.
As the last mourner steps away, Dominic turns to Dante. There’s an exchange of words. There’s a sudden change in Dominic’s demeanor. It’s unmistakable, and there is a visible tension in the line of his shoulders.
Dante stands back from him.
“Come to the car with me.” I read Dominic’s lips as he speaks to Dante.
“No, everything has changed.” Dante responds.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Talk to me in the car. Not here.”
“Let’s go,” Rafe says as we follow Dante to Dominic’s limousine.
“Get in,” Dominic says.
Dante shakes his head. “We’re in one car.”
“Give the keys to Luigi. He’ll take the car to the wake. I need to talk to all of you.”
Cade hands Dante’s car keys to Dominic, who calls over one of his men, hands him the keys and tells him to follow us.
“Please get in.”
Inside the car, I take my seat next to Amara and Milly as Dante sits next to his father. Rafe and Cade sit opposite me.
Dominic reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring. Even from where I sit, I can see the intricate design, the symbol of the Syndicate. Five rings, standing for each family in power. I wonder why it isn’t six rings.
He holds it out to Dante. “My work is done. It’s your time.”
Dante’s hesitation is visible, his hand half-raised but not reaching for the ring. “I told you I don’t want it any longer. I need to protect Lia and my children and I’ll do that better not having to think about de Luca family responsibilities.”
His words hang in the air. We never discussed this.
“Please. You and Lia together can change the face of the mafia. And I know you can do it.”
Dante’s gaze roams across to me. I feel the weight of his decision, like it rests on me.
“Please.” Dominic’s eyes soften. “Please, Dante. Change things. Make them better.”
My eyes go back to Dante’s across the space between us. I see his conflict, his desire to break free warring with his sense of duty. I nod, my heart racing as I watch Dante wrestle with his decision.
“I…”
Boom!
The car rattles as a deafening explosion shatters the somber atmosphere. The vehicle rocks violently, its frame groaning under the assault.
People scream.
My heart races as pieces of twisted metal clatter onto the roof of the car, the impacts sounding like rapid gunfire.
The ground beneath my feet trembles, and I instinctively duck as another shower of debris rains down around us.
I grasp Amara’s hand as she squeals. Dominic grabs her in his arms, plonks her on his knee, and whispers, “It’s fine.”
But is it?
All I can see is a car behind us in a ball of flame. Thick, pungent smoke billows into the air, stinging my eyes and choking my lungs.
Through the haze, I can see people scattering, their screams now barely audible over the ringing in my ears.
My mouth is frozen in a gasp. I straighten up, my heart pounding in my chest.
The air is filled with drifting ash and the acrid smell of burning rubber. But as the smoke clears, the full impact of what just happened sinks in.
“It was your car, Dante.” I mumble the words as I stare at the tangled metal behind us. “Someone targeted us.”
“We need to go home,” Cade says, staring at me.
“No fucking way. Someone could’ve killed my wife and babies,” Dante hisses. “And that someone isn’t expecting to see us at the wake. And when I find out who it is, there’s going to be another fucking funeral.”
Dante takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders before he reaches out and takes the ring from his father’s hand.