34. Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Emilio
L uciana had started to get homesick. So much so that she was willing to be in Gennaro’s presence if it meant seeing the rest of her family. And I would not let her be alone with him - I had seen what he could do to her - so I always went with her when she visited him.
Every two weeks, we went over to her family’s house to have dinner. It was a big event, as her family - sans Gennaro - missed her, too. They would have their chefs make a multicourse meal, and to my dismay, we would be there almost all night socializing.
To many, Gennaro had an intimidating aura, with a penchant for snide remarks that had a way of slicing through the air sharper than any knife. Although this proverbial knife had always cut his family, it had no effect on me. As he sat at the head of the table, his piercing eyes darting between Luciana and me, I felt nothing. It did, however, work on Luciana. She did her best to not interact with him, but when she could not avoid it, I could always feel her deep-seated fear and anxiety.
I rested my left hand on her leg for comfort, and she smiled at me.
“It seems like your marriage is going well,” Gennaro commented, and I could feel Luciana stiffen up.
“Of course,” I replied. “Luciana is wonderful.”
“I wasn’t fond of Francesca for the longest time,” he said, right in front of his wife. She stiffened up, and I could tell she was trying to hide her embarrassment. “I think it took us three years to get along.”
“I suppose love can take time to build,” I would have liked to respond differently, but I did not want to embarrass Luciana’s mother.
“Perhaps.”
It felt like eons until dinner was over. And even then, I knew we would stay later to socialize with her family. I just hoped I wouldn’t get roped in by Rolando or Gennaro.
“Emilio,” Rolando said, motioning me over. “Come hang out with my father and I. The girls are talking about outfit planning and other girly shit.”
“Sure,” I responded. The truth was I would rather the ladies put me in a dress than socialize with Luciana’s father and brother.
As I stood up, I gave Luciana’s hand a quick squeeze - a silent promise that, despite everything, I was not leaving her alone. She flashed me a brief smile of gratitude and, with a newfound determination, turned back to the women’s hushed chatter about fabrics and trimmings.
Nevertheless, I followed Rolando into the cigar room. Gennaro had already picked one out and was puffing away on his expensive cigar. The antique leather armchairs almost swallowed me whole as I sank into one of them. The heavy smell of tobacco smoke enveloped us, making me feel slightly nauseous.
Rolando poured himself a glass of scotch from the polished crystal decanter. He offered it to Gennaro, who took it with a nonchalant nod. Then Rolando turned to me and raised an eyebrow in silent question.
“No thanks,” I said. He shrugged, pouring himself another glass.
For a while, we sat in silence, the only noise coming from the soft clinking of ice against glass and Gennaro’s slow, meditative puffs on his cigar. Finally, Gennaro broke the silence.
“We wanted to talk to you about you and your ‘friends.’”
The group he referred to as “friends” were more than just acquaintances - they were my family. Ettore, the Don, commanded our operations with a calm and authoritative presence. Vincenzo, the underboss, was often quiet but always calculating, making him a valuable asset to the organization. And then there were Felix and Rocco, twin brothers who were like two halves of a whole, each possessing their own unique skills that complemented one another perfectly. Together, we formed an unbreakable bond that strengthened our unity and power within the mafia world.
“Alright,” I responded.
“We’re worried there may be an…ulterior motive behind the warehouse incident.”
By warehouse incident, he was referring to the event that put Luciana and me in our arranged marriage. He did not put enough security in the warehouse we built and someone burnt it to the ground.
“You lost us twenty million dollars and you think we have a hidden agenda? There’s no insurance fraud in our business.”
“Perhaps, but it’s always possible you’re working with a third party. Many have tried in the past to eliminate powerful mafia families.”
“You’re clearly not that powerful if you needed to borrow twenty million from us.”
Gennaro’s gaze hardened at my words, the smoke from his cigar curling around his head like a halo of menace. Rolando kept quiet, nursing his drink with an alarmed expression. Tension hung heavy in the air as Gennaro remained silent for a moment, mulling over my pointed rebuttal.
“If it weren’t for my marriage,” My eyes turned cold, hinting at the danger beneath my calm demeanor. “I would not even be entertaining this conversation with you.”
I couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. He had single-handedly cost us millions of dollars with his reckless actions, yet here he was sitting in front of me, daring to accuse me of having a hidden agenda. The tension in the room was palpable as I struggled to maintain my composure and not give into the urge to lash out at him. But even as anger simmered inside me, I couldn’t help but marvel at his nerve and cunning tactics.
“Your marriage,” Gennaro echoed, his voice as sharp as the crack of a whip. “Ah, yes. The marriage that this accident forced upon you. A convenient scapegoat for your ‘misfortune’, wouldn’t you say?”
For once, I could not form an articulate sentence. I should have stayed calm - Gennaro was exceedingly good at getting under people’s skin. But, him suggesting that I purposely ruined the warehouse for a marriage was absurd.
“If you recall, I was initially against the arranged marriage.” My voice seemed to raise an octave with each word I spoke. “I should have just declined; it’s not worth it to do business with you.”
I charged towards the door, my hand clenching into a fist as I yanked it open. My heart dropped as I saw Luciana standing on the other side, her face contorted with devastation. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears, making me feel like I had just punched her in the gut. It was clear she had overheard my scathing words about our marriage, and I regretted them instantly. The weight of my words hung heavy in the air between us, suffocating any chance of reconciliation.
“We have other resources, Emilio,” Gennaro said from behind me, his voice icy.
“Then use them,” I said, slamming the door shut.
I wanted to get down on my knees and beg forgiveness to Luciana. However, I was stilled fueled with rage by Rolando and Gennaro, and couldn’t think straight.
“We’re leaving.” I wrapped my hand around her wrist and all but dragged her to the car.
Luciana didn’t resist, her teary eyes staring blankly ahead. As I maneuvered the car onto the main road, the silence between us was deafening. The drive home was a silent affair. The only sound was the purr of my BMW’s engine, as melodious as a lullaby, set against the icy wind that rushed by us on the highway. Yet it did little to ease the tension that crackled in the confining space of the car. Every now and then, I glanced over at Luciana. From the corner of my eye, I saw her staring out the side window; her face was pale and stricken with sadness. Her tears had run dry but had been replaced by a vacant stare.
When we reached our apartment, she walked ahead of me, keys clattering against the door as she rushed to unlock it. She didn’t even pause before disappearing inside, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I took a moment to collect myself before stepping inside. Normally, it felt like I was entering another world altogether - our world - where everything was warmer and softer. A world where every mundane object held a memory colored with shared laughter or arguments or silence - comfortable silence.
But not tonight. Tonight it was filled with a heavy silence – one filled with hurt and misunderstanding.