Chapter 20 Daisy #2
That stupid hope bubble bloats, getting bigger, and Mean Daisy’s eyes widen as her hold on the pickax wavers. She glances at me, but I refuse to look back at her. My entire focus is on the man in front of me.
Sister. I mentally repeat the word. Michelle is my sister, but in name only. Her family has always been kind, but if Michelle weren’t around to facilitate the relationship, I know it’d fall apart. Something tells me that if Giulio were to disappear, though, Dante wouldn’t abandon me.
Hope, the cruel beast, wiggles against the floor of my head. Mean Daisy backs up, unsure.
“Let me help you,” Dante insists, then, with a chuckle, he tilts his head and says, “besides, if you don’t, G will beat the shit out of me. He made it clear that I was supposed to come here and get you to agree to let me help you.”
I smile back. He’s right. It would be foolish to refuse him.
This is about my future, my dream. I have to say yes even if it burns my pride a bit.
The real world relies on connections anyway.
I can let Dante get me in the door, but I have to be the one to impress them.
It’ll be up to me to do the actual work.
I nod slowly, feeling like my head is on a stick and it’s just bobbing back and forth. His smile is brilliant, but as he releases my hand, I find myself leaning forward and asking a question that’s been on my mind since the first time I laid eyes on Giulio La Rosa.
“Why do you do it?” I ask. “Hurt people? Kill them? Do you have to? Wouldn’t it be easier to be legit all of the time, all the way?”
Dante pauses, and the smile falters. His face doesn’t twist into one of anger, though, and that gives me hope. He looks down and then turns his body away from mine, straightening in his cushioned seat.
“The Luciani Syndicate started a long time ago,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Long before either Giulio or I were born. My grandfather came over from Italy during World War II; he and many of his brothers were fleeing oppressive governments. Starting over in a country that doesn’t speak your language or accept you is difficult for a lot of people.
“They were already hardened men, having formed their own private armies—mafia actually comes from the word ‘mafie,’ which means ‘the same.’ Essentially, they were brothers-in-arms and in a new place that often didn’t acknowledge or accept them.
When the authorities wouldn’t help those they didn’t consider their countrymen, they had to help themselves, protect their own, and, yes, oftentimes act as judge, jury, and executioner to people who would have otherwise gotten away with doing bad things to the families of poor immigrants. ”
I lean closer, my hands sliding up around my biceps as I become enraptured in this bit of history.
“I think it started because there weren’t many opportunities, and my grandfather knew that power and money would protect his people.
My father never wanted to be a king, and I don’t think my grandfather wanted that, either, but when you’re a man of honor, you’ll do whatever it takes to protect those you care about.
” He lifts his head and sets cold, honey-brown eyes on me.
“Even torture. Even kill. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Daisy? ”
My lips part in surprise, but then I think about his words. When Michelle and I were trapped in that alley, when that man threatened her, I felt cold. Ice in my veins. Angry. I’ve been so damn angry.
All of my life, I’ve been a charity case to others. Not to Michelle, though. Her family has accepted me for as long as she’s cared for me, and she’s given me at least a hint of what it could be like to be loved. She’s mine. My friend. Mine to defend and protect.
I don’t regret it. I look down at my hands and imagine them covered in blood. The image doesn’t bother me as I’m sure it should.
“Of course you don’t.” Dante’s words make me blink and look back at him.
It takes me a moment to realize that I said that first part aloud.
He gives me a smile, this one smaller than before, but no less sincere.
“Because you get it. You understand that sometimes you have to do things that might be seen as immoral by others.”
My head bobs up and down again. “Yeah,” I agree. “I think…” I curl my fingers into my palms. “I think if someone tried to hurt Michelle or Giulio or… you, I’d kill them, too.” And I wouldn’t ever regret my actions. No remorse.
Dante’s smile stretches, and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to my temple. “That’s good, sorellina. That’s very good.”
“Sorellina?” I say, repeating the word. “What does that mean?” Am I going to have to start taking Italian lessons? Maybe I should.
“It means ‘little sister.’”
A burning sensation attacks the backs of my eyes. Little sister. I’ve never been anyone’s little sister. Not really. I shove back the urge to cry by blinking rapidly and looking away from the man at my side.
Thankfully, I’m saved by a knock on the door. Jumping up, I dash across the room, already knowing who it is. A glance at the kitchen clock tells me that she’s a bit earlier than expected—by a whole half hour.
When I open the door and Michelle’s happy face appears before me, I’ve got a good handle on my hopeful emotions, and Mean Daisy has faded into the background of my mind.
“Oh my God, Daisy! You’ll never guess what I did today!” Michelle breezes into the penthouse with a big, bulky purse slung over a shoulder. “There was a cute guy at the coffee shop and I asked him out. Can you believe it? Me! Taking the first step. He might just be my prince charming.”
She stops when she sees Dante and frowns. “I thought it was just going to be you and me?” she asks, turning to glare back at me as I finish shutting the door.
Dante doesn’t give me an opportunity to answer as he gets to his feet and moves to the stool still holding his suit coat. “Don’t worry, little menace,” he says, tossing the fabric over one arm. “I can’t stay anyway. I’ll leave the two of you alone.”
“Menace?” Michelle scowls and glares at him. I watch the reaction with a small smile curving my lips.
Dante ignores her and glances at me. “I’ll put some feelers out to the publishing companies,” he assures me. “You keep working on those résumés and cover letters. If I find anything, I’ll send you an email.”
“Oh!” I jump forward, hurrying back toward the living room. “Hold on, let me write it down for you.”
“No need,” he says, stopping me. “I’ve already got it.”
“How do you—” Again, I don’t get to finish my question as he waves goodbye over his shoulder and disappears out into the hallway.
The door lock clicks back into place, and I’m left staring at a space of empty wood.
I suppose Giulio probably gave him the information he needed when he asked for the favor.
“Ugh.” Michelle dumps her purse on the couch, right over a stack of old résumés. “That man can be so annoying.”
I look at her. “Dante? He’s super nice, though.”
Michelle shoots me a dark look and then rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she replies. “He’s got that pretty-boy vibe going on, and he knows he’s handsome. I’d bet you anything he uses his looks to get whatever he wants.”
Does he? I wonder absently as I float over to where she is.
Maybe. But for people who need to always look out for themselves and the people they love, using everything at their disposal isn’t a desire as much as it is a survival tactic.
So, even if Michelle is right, I know I won’t ever blame him for that.