Chapter 39
Chiara
Asteady drizzle falls from a leaden sky, but the umbrella over my head shields me from the worst of it. We’re surrounded by tall trees and gray headstones. On a fine day, this hillside would be scenic, as it overlooks the bay, but not today.
Angelo stands by my side, not quite touching, while Kane is somewhere behind us. Lorenzo and Fina are two spaces to my left.
On the far side of the gaping hole in the ground, a motley group of seniors sits on folding chairs, some of them dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs as the priest drones on.
There aren’t many mourners here today. No family. When I asked Angelo why not, he said Ronald never married or had children.
That makes me sad, but at least the poor man had Felix.
I left the cat sleeping on my bed. He’s settled in well, happy to remain in my bedroom for now. A few cat toys appeared on the bed yesterday, which I assume came from Kane. For a big, gruff enforcer, Kane sure is a softy around Felix.
When I teased him about it, he just laughed and said he loved all pussies. I told him he was disgusting, but it was water off a duck’s back; the man has no shame.
Luka has yet to meet Felix. I haven’t seen him since our tryst. A big part of me wonders whether Angelo has threatened him and that’s why he’s staying away.
Honestly, nothing my husband does surprises me, and threatening his brother is exactly the sort of bullshit stunt Angelo would pull, even though he has no right to demand monogamy in a marriage I never consented to.
I stand motionless while the priest rambles on, thinking about the day we buried my father. He lies in a different cemetery, but being here brings up too many unpleasant memories.
I still remember how alone, how lost, I felt, even though there were dozens of people there to pay their respects that day.
Lorenzo had been one of them. He wears the same blank expression today as he did back then. I hadn’t known who he was. He or the young man with him.
The realization hits me hard.
Angelo had stood behind me when I watched my stepmother throw lilies onto the polished mahogany coffin.
He’d brushed his fingers across my hand when he and his father walked away toward their car.
A small token of kindness, but one that had helped me feel less forgotten. If only for a few brief moments.
Does he remember that day?
I slant a sideways glance in his direction, but he’s busy imitating a statue: stoic and silent. Lorenzo fidgets as the priest dithers, and then the service finally draws to a close.
A few people step forward to drop flowers into the open grave.
Ronald’s old neighbors grumble about the weather; most of them look at least eighty. Lorenzo hurries off with his guards in tow, leaving me with Angelo, Fina, and their guards while the other mourners linger, talking among themselves.
A woman with short gray hair and bright pink lipstick picks her way across the grass while leaning on a cane. She stops in front of Angelo.
“Thank you. It was a nice service,” she says.
“Of course. He was a loyal employee.” The woman nods.
“A few of us are heading to a bar for drinks. You’re welcome to come along.” She glances behind me and half-smiles. “You and your hot friend.”
My mouth drops, and I fight against the chuckles that threaten to escape. Laughing at a funeral isn’t the done thing.
“You mean Kane?” I ask her.
“Yeah. Your husband reckons he’s single.”
I can’t see Kane’s face, but I’d put good money on him rolling his eyes.
“Oh, he’s single.” This ridiculous conversation is a welcome respite from my maudlin thoughts. “He loves older women, and we’d love to have a drink with you and your friends.”
To my surprise, Angelo doesn’t pull rank and insist on taking me home. Instead, he lets Kane drive us to a small roadside tavern where there’s a table filled with cakes, sandwiches, and large pots of iced tea and hot coffee.
It brings home that Ronald, who I never met, had friends that cared for him, even if he was never lucky enough to find love.
The old ladies swarm around Kane the moment he sets foot inside the place. They squeeze his biceps, cooing about how big and strong he is while tittering to each other.
He doesn’t once complain, but the dark look he throws me says he plans to get his own back at some point. Not that I care. That bastard owes me big time. I still haven’t forgiven him for sticking a needle in my neck.
“It’s nice of you to come,” I tell Angelo when he steers me toward a table.
“Ronald was a good guy. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs while scanning the room. There are several men posted outside, but he doesn’t seem worried about any potential security threats.
“It’s still nice of you. Most men in your position wouldn’t make such a gesture.” I’m thinking of his father when I say the words. Lorenzo wouldn’t be seen dead in a bar like this.
Angelo doesn’t acknowledge my unspoken criticism of his father.
He makes sure I have a drink and some food, and when a woman comes over to chat, he smiles and makes conversation like a normal person, not a gangster.
It’s a side of him I never expected to see, and it makes me think back to that day in the cemetery where a quiet young man reached out to let me know I wasn’t alone.
It’s late by the time we arrive back at the mansion. To my surprise, Angelo follows me into the house, slipping off his jacket along the way. The sight of him in a plain white shirt unbuttoned at the neck makes my breath hitch.
I force myself to look away before I start drooling. He may be my husband on paper, but I still hate him.
At least that’s what I tell myself. In truth, my feelings are a mess. He’s an asshole, but he’s also not the man I thought he was.
“You’re staying?” I ask when the silence between us lengthens.
He raises one eyebrow while pulling a glass tumbler from a cupboard. “Got a problem with that?”
“Um, no. Just surprised. I figured you’d be on your way back to wherever it is you sleep. A coffin in an underground crypt, perhaps.”
Kane snorts but Angelo is unamused.
“It’s my house, princess. In case you’d forgotten.”
“How could I forget, darling? There are monogrammed towels in the fucking bathrooms.” No joke. There really are.
He ignores me and pours himself a glass of scotch, not bothering to ask if I want one. The fucker. But whatever. I slip my shoes off and pad upstairs, eager for some kitty love. Felix likes me even if nobody else does.
The cat mewls and chirrups at me when I open the bedroom door. He rubs his head on my legs as I refill his food bowl. While he crunches away, I strip off my funeral clothes and take a quick shower. The hot water helps restore my mood.
Once Felix settles down on the bed for another nap, I head back downstairs in my comfy pants and a long-sleeve fleecy sweater. The house is cool this evening.
When I walk into the family room, Angelo is lying on the sofa in the living room with a news channel on mute. He lifts his head but says nothing. Kane must have left because there’s no sign of him.
“Am I allowed to watch TV?” I’m fully expecting him to say no, but to my surprise, he nods, so I pick up the remote and switch to Netflix, eventually settling on a thriller. Something about CIA agents and international assassins. It’s pretty mindless but entertaining.
After a few minutes, Angelo puts his phone away and focuses on the screen. We watch the movie together, and for a couple of hours, it feels like we really are a married couple, chilling together.
Then Luka shows up and all hell breaks loose.