65. Dominic
Three hours later, we’re on our way to Potenza. Ariana is sitting next to me, out of her disguise, her hand relaxed in mine as she glances out to the passing landscape. She’s the most at peace I’ve ever seen her, as if she’s finally come to terms with everything she’s been through, but I know better. It’s going to take some time for her to work through this morning’s build-up and Pietro Garlini’s demise.
What she did to Garlini didn’t surprise me. Every human has that dark side in them, but not everybody gets tested to see where their tipping point is. I vow she’ll never get to this point again with someone—the point where this beautiful woman has the urge to kill.
I bet she’s still digesting, and when she drops her head to my shoulder, I brush a soft kiss over her hair.
“We need to have a call with the family, sweetheart,” I murmur softly. Matteo needs to know the results of the DNA tests.
“Yes.” She turns her face up to me, and I press a kiss to her lips.
Bar getting the hell out of her apartment, leaving her whole old life intact and taking only the handful of small mementos she wanted to keep, we haven’t spoken much. We left the apartment building separately in the way we came, and united again once on the outskirts of the city. I spent most of the drive to the meeting point wiping away the makeup she’d applied and scrubbing off the fake tattoos she’d painted on me, leaving Franco Fiore finally in the past. Still, I itch for a shower.
“Get us a hotel somewhere close to Potenza, Gus, to freshen up and have lunch,” I say to my bodyguard. I don’t feel like making this call in the car.
“Yes, boss.”
So far, the security team keeping an eye on the convent hasn’t raised any red flags about another team stalking around, looking to kidnap ‘Randazzo’s’ daughter. I bet the Reverend Mother has an exit strategy in place, what with all the knowledge she seems to have of us, and how she understood the assignment from the start .
Jesus Christ. I hope she’ll tell us some of everything that happened and how she knew my nickname was Nicky, because that came out of left field.
For now, I only have scanned pages of Mom’s journals on hand and a few other salient documents Luca emailed me. If the Reverend Mother is going to want more, she’ll have to wait for Stephano with the originals.
Gus directs the driver to a boutique hotel on the outskirts of Potenza, and once we’ve gone through our security procedures and find ourselves alone in our room, I cup Ariana’s face in my hands.
“I know it’s been a rough day, sweetheart. You’re ready to do this?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I set up a call with all my brothers in an hour’s time and then lead her to the shower where we wash off the morning’s business. I take time to wash her with tenderness, take care of her, and when she breaks down in my arms after a shattering orgasm, I hug her to me.
“I’m just so tired,” she whispers against my neck, trying to find any excuse for the emotional turmoil she still cares to hide.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll be home soon, and then, you can rest.” Her ordeal doesn’t only include the events this morning. She probably has to go back to the day her mom died, and I will be there for her, every step of the way.
Once we’re dressed again, I set up my laptop and start the online call.
Ariana reaches for my hand just before I let in my brothers, who have all already dialed in and are waiting for me to connect them.
“Please, don’t tell them about this morning.”
“I won’t. We work on a need-to-know basis, and this morning stays with us.” This is how it starts, all these secrets…
She nods, and I squeeze her hand. When she squeezes back, I finally let the others into the call, and within seconds, my brothers’ faces fill the screen. From their background images, Luca and Benedict are in Matteo’s office. Steph is sitting on a verandah I don’t recognize—he’s recently arrived at the Trapanis’ house in Lake Como.
Well, this is one way to break it to the others that Matteo is Randazzo’s son. At least Matteo isn’t alone and it’s better for this to come out sooner rather than later.
“So, I got the DNA tests back,” I start, then pause.
“And?” Matteo prods.
“Uhm, so, turns out Ariana is part of the family.”
At this, eyebrows all quirk up, and my brothers shoot each other glances.
“Fuck, is she one of the Don’s by-blows?” Matteo asks, shifting in his seat.
“She’s right here, Matteo,” I say, my tone suggesting that nobody even thinks of giving her a smidgen of disrespect. I prompt Ariana to get her face on the screen. “And no, turns out she’s one of Randazzo’s children…and your half-sister.”
I can hear a needle drop all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, in that fucking soundproof apartment of Matteo. In the shocked quiet, it’s somewhat eerie to see the color drain from his face.
“How long have you known, Matty?” I ask, trying to break the tension.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I should have waited to do this in person, all of us together. A hand comes to rest on Matteo’s shoulder. It’s Benedict’s, and on his other shoulder, Luca’s.
“Fuck,” Matteo grunts as he drops his head back, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I had my first suspicions the day I met with Randazzo, but the Don confirmed it on the day he died.”
And this was probably another reason to kill the old man, because who wouldn’t be triggered to learn that years of abuse was at the hand of a man who wasn’t even your father? Fuck, I’d do it in a twitch.
“That doesn’t change anything,” Luca says, breaking the tension and confirming what I felt when I learned about Matteo’s parentage. “You know what they say, boys, teamwork makes the fucking dream work, and as far as I see, the family just got bigger. Welcome to the party, Ariana.”
Thank fuck for Luca. He might be a little shit, but sometimes, he’s so on point, it’s a relief.
“We’ll have to throw a welcome party once you’re home, Ariana,” Benedict adds. “I look forward to getting to know you.”
“Same here,” Stephano says. “We’ll get to see you soon. Gigi and Carla can’t wait to properly suss you out.”
Next to me, Ariana breaks into a small chuckle, but her eyes are glued to Matteo’s face on the screen, probably scanning his features for any that could match her own, or those of Randazzo, so she can tick off some family traits.
Matteo blows out a deep huff, and it’s dense with relief. “Welcome to the family, Ariana. We should do...we should do dinner or breakfast or something together once you’re back home.”
Oh, boy. Poor Matteo. He’s had enough mindfucks for a lifetime, and this in a few short months.
“I’ll email you the DNA test results, so you have it on hand.” I glance at the time. “It’s time to change her profile on the DIA site, Ben. Can you arrange that?” It would take the DIA some time to find Garlini’s body, and the sooner Ariana disappears forever, the better.
“Consider it done. I’ll send you a screenshot when I’ve received the confirmation, and I’ll double-check, you know, just in case.”
“Good, thank you.” Benedict will deliver. I’ve one less thing to worry about. “We need to head out to the convent.”
“Yep, keep us posted, will you?” Matteo says.
I nod and ring off.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I say to Ariana as I close my laptop and take hold of her hand.
“Poor Matteo. He looked a bit shell-shocked. At least, I’ve had a few more days to get used to the idea.”
“You’re a Scalera now.” Not in name yet, but soon. “By the time we’re back in Boston, he would’ve adjusted.”
She nods as I stand.
“Ready for a short drive?”
“Yes.”
She stands, and my gaze flows down her perfect body.
“You look lovely, sweetheart.” I’m not sure where she got the suitcase full of clothes from, but she’s wearing a beautiful summer’s dress that fits her like a glove, and in this soft shade of blue, it only illuminates her eyes.
“Portia got busy online and gave Arturo directions as he hit some upscale shopping mall in Boston.”
“Those two,” I say with a smile as I lead her out of the room to where Gus is waiting in the corridor, printouts of Mom’s journals in hand. “I really hope they have time to be together again, at least as a family, if not as more, if that’s what they want.”
It’s been quietly killing me that the Don would have pulled such a fucked-up power move on one of his men, but it was par for the course in the old Il Consiglio .
We’re quiet as we drive up into the small town, its medieval cobbled streets getting narrower and narrower as we go higher. My pulse beats faster, my stomach twisting tight. To think this moment could somehow be too big for me. I’m relieved to have Ariana by my side, to see me through the next couple of hours.
We’re only here for a preliminary meeting with the Reverend Mother, and hopefully, we’ll get to meet Gabriella. If all goes according to plan, she’ll leave the convent with us tomorrow.
The driver pulls up at the convent’s gate, and we clamber out. It takes us a minute to get clearance through the intercom, and then we’re inside, Ariana holding my hand, Gus and another bodyguard making up the rear. A nun meets us half a minute later and guides us through the courtyard and up the stairs to the second floor and the Reverend Mother’s office.
She’s waiting for us, seated at her desk, indicating we should come in and take a seat. She’s an older woman, maybe in her mid-fifties—the same age Mom would have been now if she’d lived—and dressed in full nun regalia.
As I sit down, I hold out the printouts with Mom’s handwriting, her secrets, out for the world to see and dissect.
“That’s all, Sister Maria,” the Reverend Mother says as she reaches for the copies and gives them a swift glance.
The door closes behind us seconds later, but now the Reverend Mother takes her time to go through my paperwork. Eventually, she looks up and searches my face, and I read her eyes as she takes me in. She’s putting a face to a face she knows from somewhere else. Only the smallest twitch to her lips tells me something has triggered her, and then she slips a photo from a Bible laying to the side on her desk.
“You look just like your father,” she says as she holds the photo out to me.
I glance at Ariana, but her eyes are on the copy of the wedding photo that was hidden with Mom’s journals.
“How did you know my mother?” I ask, taken aback that the Reverend Mother would have one of these photos.
“We were best friends, grew up together in Napoli. Impoverished to a point where we were basically living on the streets. The day I got placed in a church orphanage was the day Bianca disappeared. I never knew what happened to her, but somehow, years down the line, she found me, and we reconnected. Seems she knew where I went, and then I learned what happened to her—” She breaks off, pursing her lips as tears glaze her eyes. “She was a very brave woman,” the Reverend Mother says as she opens a desk drawer and pulls a stack of letters from it. “I think these would be better for you to keep. It’s the last connection I had with Bianca and explains how I got to find and look after Gabriella until her brothers came for her.”
The stack of letters is like a window to a past life, just like Mom’s journals. Here is more of Mom, more than we’d ever think we’d have of her. I’d need to be alone with them to digest the contents once the time is right.
“My sister?” I ask, anxious now to get eyes on Gabriella.
“She’s here.” The Reverend Mother picks up her old desk phone and dials, and after a short conversation, puts the phone on its hook again.
A knock follows, and now that the moment is here, I cling to Ariana’s hand as we stand and turn toward the door.
When it swings open, my heart stalls. A young woman walks into the office, in a plain dark blue pinafore, a white shirt underneath, sensible shoes with stockings, and a gold cross hanging from a thin necklace I recall as vividly as if I’ve seen it yesterday—Mom’s cross.
Our eyes meet across the short expanse of the room, and my throat tightens as she reaches for the golden cross in a gesture so familiar, with a hand that’s a carbon copy of Mom’s, it chokes me up.
This is Gabriella Scalera, and there’s no doubt in my soul she’s my sister, for she’s a soft echo of our Mom, from her dark brown eyes, the perfectly arched brows, to her regal nose, and the gentle pull of her mouth—the exact one Mom had when she reprimanded us, never scolding, only loving.
“I’m Dominic Scalera, your brother.” I hold out my hand, fingers quivering, and she slips hers in mine, soft but tense, hesitantly giving me the short, compulsory shake.
She drops her gaze as she pulls away.
“I’m ready,” she says, so softly, I need to lean in to make sure I heard right.
“You’re…ready?” I repeat, wanting to make sure that’s what she said.
“I’m ready,” she says. “To serve in the way God sees fit.”
I glance at Ariana, who hasn’t moved an inch next to me, and in a split second, all my worst sins seem to fly by in my mind, in front of this young woman—my sister—who seems to be as pure as the day she was born.
Oh, boy. Gabriella Scalera might be ready…but I’m not sure the rest of the Scaleras are ready for what her addition to the family will bring.