40. Dante
Chapter 40
Dante
T he staff is visibly shaken after the home invasion. I can’t do much, but I generously compensate each of them and send them off on their dream vacations to make up for it. Luciano is fielding temporary replacements when I enter the kitchen a couple of days later.
“Hey,” I nod at him. “I’m going to the hospital.”
“Okay, but should we hire Sally to be the cook?” His face scrunches into a pained expression, lips pressed tightly together in a grimace. “We got a couple of wives who know what they’re doing, but how do you feel about living with Manuele or Danilo?”
I don’t know who either of them are at this moment. “Uh, whoever is less annoying,” I shrug. “I don’t care. Maybe we don’t have to hire a cook. Between Enzo and I, we could probably figure it out.”
Luciano’s eyes flicker up from his laptop screen, pinning me with a deadpan expression. “You think you and Enzo can cook for ten people every single day? That doesn’t include the new recruits you’ve got down in the dungeon.”
“Okay, okay,” I glare. “I get it. Hire whoever you want.”
“Danilo’s wife it is. I went to their kid’s baptism last year, and she made the best cannoli I’ve ever had. You think I can put in requests?” He asks while rubbing his hands together gleefully.
He’s so weird. “This isn’t a restaurant, Luc. But by all means, you can ask. Why’d Danilo’s wife apply, anyway?”
Luciano’s excitement wanes as quickly as it surfaced. “Do you remember the incident before Christmas?” He jars my memory with a single question.
Last year, Danilo and a group of his friends got caught up in the drug business—snorting lines, dealing to feed their own habits, even producing their own substances.
Then, Danilo’s son was born in the summer, and he had an epiphany. He wanted to clean up his act for the sake of his family. But addiction is a cruel master, constantly beckoning with its deceptive promises. One fateful night, his partner got high and shot up their house in a fit of paranoid delusion. Danilo’s son, the innocent boy who’d just been baptized a few days before, became an unintended victim. His wife spent three agonizing days in the hospital, nursing her grief and shock while Danilo could only wallow in his overwhelming guilt and sorrow.
“See that they’re set up with the nicest rooms, perhaps an adjoining. If they want to try starting a family again,” I add. “It would be nice to have a child around.”
Luciano lets out a disbelieving snort, followed by his head shaking from side to side in disbelief. “If you want a child around, just invite your future wife over.”
The color drains from my face at the mention of my betrothed. I haven’t heard from Lucrezia in several days. According to Salvatore, she called yesterday to check on how I was doing, but he advised her to give me some space. To my surprise, she listened to him. “I’m not marrying Lucrezia,” I remind my little brother. “I don’t care how many marriage contracts have been drawn up.”
“You’re going to piss off the Castigliones,” he replies, his voice dripping with boredom and nonchalance.
“Good.” Saverio, four years my senior, has always carried himself with an air of superiority, which he seems to believe gives him the permission to make decisions that his father would never have dreamt of. Like suggesting that I marry his irritating sixteen-year-old sister. As if I am nothing more than a mere pawn in his game of power and control. “Fuck the Castigliones.”
Luciano lets out a low chuckle before rising from his seat, the leather chair creaking beneath the shifting weight. He shuffles over to the coffee maker and begins to grind beans and measure out water. “Where are you going anyway? You look too dressed up to go to the hospital. Admit it. You’re going somewhere else.”
I look down and take in the smooth, black slacks and crisp, pressed white shirt that I put on this morning. “This isn’t dressed up. I’m not even wearing a tie.”
“Whatever. Where are you going?”
“Seriously, the hospital. I need to check on Enzo. I know he said not to come,” my words taper off into silence. I talked to Enzo yesterday, and he sounded good, but Silas said he developed an infection and needed a course of antibiotics before he could be released.
Luciano waves me off with a dismissive gesture. “Go, do what you gotta do. I can hold the fort down here. What do I gotta do for your little pet?”
I cock my head to the side, my eyes narrowing as I glare at my youngest brother. His mischievous grin fuels my irritation. “Adalina is not a pet.”
“She wears a collar,” he replies with a grin.
He’s right. I make a mental note to remove Adalina’s collar later. “She’ll be fine. She can get around well enough on her own, and there are leftovers she can heat up if she gets hungry.”
“Honestly,” Luciano interjects as soon as I finish speaking, his tone sharp and skeptical, “I’m surprised you let her roam the house freely. Aren’t you worried about her running away? She has even more reason now, considering her father’s little gang of miscreants was able to get past the guards at the gate and infiltrate your home. I reckon she might think the streets are safer than being around you or her dad.”
Before the attack, I would have worried about the same. If given the opportunity, I wouldn’t have put it past Adalina to figure out how to escape. But Tommaso’s invasion changed things between us. It has been a subtle, almost imperceptible shift that’s changed our entire relationship. “She won’t try to leave.” It would be a foolish move for her to attempt it. And Adalina Martinelli is far from foolish.
“Cool, cool,” Luciano nods his head slowly. “So, what are you two, anyway? Because rumor has it you two have been sleeping in the same room these last couple of nights and?—”
“Shut up,” I cut him off. “What I’m doing is none of your business. Just watch the damn house, and if you see anyone suspicious, shoot them in the kneecaps.”
Luciano’s hand instinctively pats the cold, hard metal of the gun holstered at his hip. “Don’t worry about me, big brother. I got you covered.”
Sometimes, I think Niccolo had the right idea. He refused to be tied down by our father’s legacy. Despite being a bachelor and a widow in his 20s, he does well for himself.
The rest of us are stuck in this mess, trying to handle it in our own ways. Salvatore makes jokes to hide the pain while Luciano drinks it away. Our sister Lucia had the courage to leave when she saw one too many things she didn’t like. But perhaps Niccolo was onto something all along; maybe we should have followed his example and stayed away from the family business. As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes I wish I had done the same.
But it’s too late to turn back now. Our fate has been sealed, our path cemented in stone. The only way out is through.