Chapter 1
ONE MONTH LATER…
CARMELA
I ’ve been out shopping with my mother and sister all afternoon. Jessica has been bratting. She hates shopping, but my mother insisted that she buy something other than jeans, hence her less than congenial mood.
I’m ready for some time away from my sister as I slip my coat off and pass it to our maid, Brigida. Our driver and guard bring up the rear laden down with packages.
“Your father asked to see you in his study,” my mother says to me.
My sister’s head turns our way.
“Not you,” my mother says. “Go and put your new dresses away.”
Jessica whines and pulls a dramatic face before she heads upstairs, her footsteps thudding. She’s eighteen months younger than me, but no one would guess when she’s already taller.
I share a look with my mother.
She smiles and squeezes my hand. “It will be fine, darling. I promise.” She turns and heads upstairs, probably to check if my sister is actually putting her clothes away.
When I knock on the study door, my father calls me straight in. He smiles and puts aside the document he was reading.
Cedro Accardi is a good father. I know he isn’t necessarily a good man.
There is a point in your life when you understand that Father Christmas is not real.
It takes a little longer before a young girl realizes that her father is a criminal, and what that means arrives in increments, put together by events and snippets of conversations over the years.
I suspect I’m still heavily shielded and not entirely clued in.
It’s not like anybody would ever say anything to me.
The people I mix with are all part of the family in one way or another, and they’re careful with their words.
“How was your shopping trip, Mela?” he asks.
“It was good, Papa. Despite her best efforts to make them all look ugly, we got some pretty dresses for Jessica.”
He chuckles, puts a call through to the maid to bring drinks to his study, and rises. Taking my hand, he walks me over to the two carver chairs, which sit before the patio windows that look out onto a manicured lawn.
Brigida arrives promptly, placing the drinks on the table before us.
“Thank you, Brigida,” he says.
She smiles and bobs her head before leaving as quietly as she arrived.
The moment feels formal and my heart beats a little too fast as my father’s eyes hold mine. Intense, dark, intelligent. A few lines crease the edges. While my father can be serious, he also knows how to smile. He can also be ruthless, but he’s never been that with me.
I don’t pretend to understand all the nuances of his position, beyond that his business is extensive and multifaceted. But I also know that if a capo wants a wife, and she is available, then he will likely get her whether she wishes it or not.
Will the same rules apply to me?
“Who?”
“Carmela, you are looking unnecessarily worried. Please don’t be.”
“You’re not helping!”
He chuckles again and shakes his head. “Fine. Dante.”
I blink as I take that in. “I wasn’t expecting Dante.”
His expression turns rueful. He’s still watching me in his intense way, probably trying to unpick the deluge of emotions crossing my face. “So I can see.”
A flutter kicks off low in my belly. I’ve thought about Dante more than is healthy. Half my friends have a crush on him. He’s sophisticated. Mature compared to me.
“Does he know?”
My father smiles. “Of course. But he wanted you to agree. To take time, if you need to, before reaching your decision.”
That takes me aback. “He did?”
“He’s a good man. I always had the greatest respect for his late father—he was as much a friend as an advisor. Dante has a good head for our business. He brings fresh ideas. He does his family name proud.”
“When would it happen? What about college?”
“I would rather you were married when you come of age,” my father says. “But Dante agrees with your mother that college should be your decision, too. That the marriage could wait until you were twenty-one.”
Dante wants me to agree. And he’s willing to wait, when I know many men in our world would not. I already see this as a sign of his integrity. My father likes and approves of him, as does my mother. I have always trusted their opinions.
My father raises his brows. “I take it you’re in agreement.”
I can’t keep the smile off my face any longer. “Yes. Yes, I am. When will it be announced?”
“After your graduation party,” my father says. “Your eighteenth birthday is soon after, and most likely where we could make a formal announcement.”
I rise from my chair and go over and kiss him.
He chuckles. “Mela, your father would like you to stay a little girl forever. But I realize that you’re growing up.
He’s a good man. Your mother and I are pleased with this match.
Our families have long had close ties. All this aside, I wanted you to be happy with it. ”
“I am,” I say. “I really am.”