Chapter 14
FABIANA
The next time I saw Cosimo was at his father’s funeral. A sea of mourners dressed in black filled the cemetery rows. The turnout was staggering. Hundreds of people had come, even though the service had been arranged in a matter of days.
I stood at Cosimo’s side while the priest read his remarks, my mind drifting back to our meeting in his office a few days earlier.
The deal we’d made was simple. Cosimo was not.
I’d spent all this time hoping he’d show an interest in getting to know me. Now that he was, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
The man I’d dismissed as an ass was turning out to be not nearly as hard to get along with as I’d thought. I should be thrilled. Or at least relieved. It meant getting through the next six months wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d initially thought it would be.
And yet I was afraid of what might happen to the simmering attraction I felt toward him in the absence of his icy coldness.
I stole a discreet glance at him. Despite standing beside each other for the past hour, we hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words.
His expression was made of granite—blank, hard, impenetrable.
Whatever grief he felt for his father had been locked away so completely that it left no cracks on the surface.
A future don couldn’t afford to look weak.
Not even here. Not with this many eyes on him.
He reached down and took my hand.
A jolt ran up my arm. I inhaled and prayed I’d hidden my surprise well enough. I couldn’t flinch every time he touched me. This was well within the boundaries we’d agreed on.
The boundaries I’d hoped would be enough to keep my heart safe.
His hold on me was firm, and he didn’t let go until the ceremony was over.
On the way to the reception hall, Mia caught up to me. “Fabi, can we talk for a second?”
“I’ll find you inside,” I said to Cosimo before I split off from him and the rest of the crowd. Mia and I stopped by a marble mausoleum with an angel carved out of dark stone perched on top of it.
She pulled me into a hug. “How are you? I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday like I said I would. It’s been crazy.”
I squeezed her back. “It’s okay. How are things with Rom?”
She’d told me a few days ago that she and Romolo had been seeing each other in secret.
When the explosion went off, she was at her father’s campaign office, watching the news break alongside the rest of his staff.
When she tried to go to Romolo, her father stopped her and locked her away in his apartment against her will.
He wasn’t willing to risk his campaign by letting it come out that his daughter was involved with someone from the very family he’d publicly vowed to destroy.
Romolo had gone after her anyway. And gotten her out.
She sighed. “Rom’s been taking good care of me. My dad was taken into custody last night.”
My eyes widened. “Oh, Mia.”
She explained how she’d given Rom and Cosimo a recording she’d made of her dad confessing he’d taken illegal donations to finance his campaign. Her father’s campaign was over, and he would face charges.
“How do you feel?”
Mia picked at her cuticles. “He knew about the bomb, Fabi. The people who seem to be behind it—the Santoros—they’re the same ones who were backing his campaign. It was lucky no one else got hurt.”
She didn’t need to spell it out for me to understand what she really meant. It could have been Romolo. The man she loved.
I brushed my palms over her arms. “You made the right choice.”
She gave me a sad smile. “We’ll talk more later, yeah?”
“Of course.” I glanced over my shoulder. “I’ve got to go find Cosimo.”
I started to turn when she caught my wrist. “Fabi, be careful around Vita.”
My gaze jumped to her. “Why? What happened?”
“She was the one who set Rom on me. And she wanted him to do some pretty awful things to expose my dad.” Mia hesitated, looking as though there was more sitting on her tongue. Then she swallowed. “Some things aren’t for me to say, but just know you can’t trust her.”
Her warning stayed with me as I moved through the reception hall in search of Cosimo. I had thought it was odd that Vita had stood across from her sons at the gravesite instead of beside them. Had something happened between them since Gino died?
There’d always been something off about Cosimo’s relationship with her. Maybe now that we were warming up to each other, he’d finally tell me what that something was.
I found him in the corner of the room, a line of people already waiting to greet him.
His gaze found mine, and something flashed inside it.
Not warmth, but maybe relief. I couldn’t be sure.
The line of mourners stretched halfway across the room.
I slipped into place beside him and turned a polite smile on the next person who approached.
An hour into the wake, most of Gino’s political and professional contacts had left. The people still here—the men who’d worked for him, family, and friends—were succumbing to nostalgia, encouraged by waiters who took seriously their job of keeping everyone’s glasses filled with red wine.
“Without Gino, I would’ve never gotten a chance to do what I was meant to,” Anthony, one of Cosimo’s cousins who was about my age, said.
From our conversation, I’d gathered he was a struggling fashion designer.
“He believed in me, unlike some other people here.” His gaze slid to somewhere behind me.
“I’ve been trying to dress the women in this family for three years.
None of them are interested. I think it’s because I once critiqued Vita’s Annabel Wang.
Annabel is a brilliant designer, but she hasn’t had anything interesting to say since her Summer 2010 collection. ”
“I’d love to check out your stuff,” I told him. “And my friend Mia is a stylist. Maybe I can introduce you two?”
Anthony’s eyes lit up. “You’re just precious. Let me give you my card.” He pulled one out of the inner pocket of his jacket, handed it to me, then looked down at his wineglass. “I’m going to get something stronger than this.”
As he walked away, my attention shifted back to Cosimo. He’d drifted a few feet behind me and was now looking intensely uncomfortable as a gray-haired woman half his height spoke to him through tears, clutching her handkerchief in one hand.
I sighed. If there was one thing I’d learned about my fiancé over the last few hours, it was that he really didn’t know how to comfort crying women. At the first sight of tears, he went stiff and looked ready to make a run for it.
To his credit, he hadn’t actually fled from anyone yet. But the awkward shoulder pats he’d been giving mourners all afternoon were excruciating to watch.
The elderly woman’s sobs grew louder. Cosimo took a gulp of his whiskey.
I decided I’d put him out of his misery and walked over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Cosimo’s fiancée, Fabi. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
The woman dabbed the handkerchief under her eyes as she tried to compose herself.
“I’m Sarah. I apologize, I’m just– Well, I was Cosimo’s cleaning lady when he was growing up.
I worked for Gino and Vita for ten years.
When I was in a spot of trouble, Gino…” Her voice broke.
“He helped me a lot. He was good like that.”
She broke down into tears again. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back. “What did he help you with?”
“My sister had a health issue. She didn’t have insurance, and we couldn’t afford the treatment. Mr. Ferraro overheard me talking to her, and without me even asking, he told me he’d cover it.” She hiccupped. “That kind of generosity is so rare.”
“That’s a beautiful memory of him,” I said. “Have you written that in the guest book? It’s right near the entrance.”
She glanced over her shoulder and blew her nose into her handkerchief. “I’ll go do that. Thank you, dear. And thank you, Mr. Ferraro.”
Cosimo’s response was a grunt mixed with some kind of incomprehensible mumble.
As Sarah walked away, he turned to me. “You could’ve come sooner.”
“I enjoyed watching you showcase your complete lack of emotional range.”
He huffed, clearly amused. “What exactly am I supposed to do in this situation?”
“Offer a few words of comfort. Maybe a hug.”
“I don’t hug.”
Why wasn’t I surprised? Cosimo’s walls might’ve lowered a fraction with me, but the man clearly wasn’t making a habit out of it.
“Well, I’d recommend doing more than those awkward pats on the shoulder.”
“My pats are not awkward. My pats are fine,” he said, sounding defensive.
“You looked like you were touching a porcupine, not a person.”
He shook his head. “Since you’re so much better at this, stay close to me.”
It was an order, not a request, and it rubbed me wrong. “Ask nicely.”
His gaze narrowed. He probably got away with talking like this to most people, but he’d made me a promise, and I was going to hold him to it.
I let a few seconds pass before I shrugged. “All right. I think I’ll go talk to Rafe and Cleo.”
“Stay.” Then after a beat, he added, “Please.”
“I wish I’d recorded that. I bet there are a lot of people out there who’d pay good money to hear you say the word please.”
“Funny. My dad’s funeral is a great occasion for your comedy debut.”
Crap. Guilt ballooned inside my chest. “Sorry. That was really insensitive of me.”
“Jesus, Fabiana. I was joking.” His elbow brushed against my own. “Relax.”
“Oh.” I let out a pent-up breath. “Right.”
“Dad would’ve loved a comedy show to round out tonight. He wouldn’t want this to be a depressing affair. Although I doubt you have enough material in you to deliver a full set.”
A smile tugged on my lips. “Whatever.”
I heard a low laugh.
Something inside me fluttered, but I did my best to ignore it. “Did you see the email the wedding planner sent last night?”
“I did. Looks like everything is on track.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got some bills to pay. Most of the vendors and the venue were definitely not thrilled about us blowing up months of planning.”
“I’ll handle it.”