Chapter 47 Francesca
Francesca
The instructor calls my name as class is nearly over. “Would you mind stepping into my office, Francesca?” Did I mess up an assignment? Is this about Chris still being missing?
Acting more composed than I feel, I nod, feeling uncomfortable at the prospect of being alone with a male instructor. If Harper was here, I’d ask if she could join us. Where is she?
That question is answered when I walk into the instructor’s office.
Harper and two men are waiting for me in the small space, all of them standing.
I’ve never seen Harper dressed like this, in a black pants suit with her hair sleek from a straightening iron.
Her makeup isn’t as heavy as usual. It’s more professional, more mature, more polished, like she’s playing a role.
Or was the other version of Harper the role?
The men with her are dressed in dark suits, too, with neatly trimmed hair and no beards. Wild guesses and fuzzy intuition lob strange scenarios my way.
My instructor addresses them in a disapproving voice.
“Once again, I’m lodging my extreme dislike of this entire ruse and you disrupting our school this way.
You have rights, Francesca. Don’t let their intimidation tactics fool you into forgetting that,” he says to me before he leaves and closes the door behind him.
“Mrs. Vicini, won’t you please take a seat?” one of the suited men says politely but in a manner that indicates I have no other choice. He’s older than Harper and the other man. I’d describe his smile as fatherly even though my own father’s smiles rarely were.
I glance at Harper. Her eyes don’t sparkle with intrigue or friendliness like usual. They’re guarded and remote. My voice comes out raspy. “What is this?”
“You don’t have to be scared, Frankie,” the younger man says. How does he know my nickname? Harper, of course.
I hover by the chair, unable to move and unable to look away from the older man with his blond hair and kind brown eyes. Better to look at him than the girl I thought was my friend. “I’m Special Agent Samuel Miller with the FBI’s Organized Crime Taskforce here in New York City, Mrs. Vicini…”
My stomach hollows out, and I can barely hear the rest before I’m gulping in rapid breaths. I’m going to faint or throw up.
“We know the marriage wasn’t your idea. Right?”
“Girls in the mob have little choices but we could help you.”
“Did your cousin, Alessio De Luca force you into it?”
“You could be a real help to us.”
“Just a little information, nothing that would put you in harm’s way.”
“Then we’d put you in witness protection like your father.”
“Your mother could join you.”
“Maybe your brother, too, if he'd be willing to tell us more about the brG.”
“You could still pursue singing or a stage career while in the program.”
The last was spoken by Harper. I stare at her like the Judas she is for using my daydreams against me. “You’re not seriously suggesting I could have a high-profile career like on Broadway after I betray my husband if he’s the sort of man you claim he is, are you?” I ask, scathingly.
“Perhaps on London’s West End?”
The insultingly stupid suggestion makes her betrayal taste all the more bitter in my mouth. I trusted you. I trusted a girl who I believed was a cooler, freer version of me, the same way I once saw Maeve. I’m such a little fool.
Ignoring her, I address the lead agent, Miller.
“You have no grounds to detain me with your questions, and I don’t care to hear any more of your false allegations regarding my husband.
” False allegations. No lie has ever passed my lips more sweetly.
“If you insist on speaking with me further, I demand my attorney be present.”
Harper looks upset, but Agent Miller takes my words in stride. “Of course, Mrs. Vicini. You’re free to go.”
I stand on shaky legs, hoping I can walk out without collapsing when Harper tries one more time. “Your dad’s not abiding by the rules in Witness Protection, Frankie. He’s in danger of being kicked out of the program. His life is on the line but if you help us-”
Whirling around, I silence my false friend for the last time. “My father made his choices without any regard for my wellbeing three years ago. And only my friends and family may call me Frankie,” I add before staggering out of the office.
I find Faro roaming the halls looking for me. “Where the fuck have you been hiding?” he growls. He’s been suspicious of my every move since that day at the park and why shouldn’t he be?
“I’m not feeling well. Take me home,” I press out, trying to sound like a Don’s wife instead of a horribly frightened girl.
He frowns and studies my face. Then, he leads me to the car. Across the street, I spot Maeve, probably hoping to pass me another note with another insane plot to meet my brother.
I don’t have time for any more fresh betrayals today, I think, ignoring her as I climb into the backseat while fighting back tears.
***
I’m surprised to find Carlo in the kitchen with Dinora when I get home.
I expected to have a few more hours to compose myself for my confession.
So desperate to make a friend at school, I befriended an undercover FBI agent.
So sure I could trust another woman over men.
I invited her into our home. I can’t forgive myself for my stupidity.
I know he never will if he even believes my version of things at all.
After what Da did, after Beppe, after I helped Sofia, after I ran off to meet Ronan, he will never trust me again.
I’m tempted to dash upstairs and continue my ruse of feeling unwell. Is it even a ruse?
But Carlo’s presence draws me in like cheese for a rat. He’s shed his jacket, and his sleeves are rolled up. Considering it was less than forty-eight hours ago that he came home bleeding from being stabbed in the back, I need to know he’s okay more than I need to run and hide.
I quickly check my face in the hall mirror before joining them. My feelings for him stare back at me in the reflection. “Is your shoulder bothering you?” I ask, worriedly.
“It’s fine,” he answers while busily chopping up pancetta under Dinora’s guidance. “Take a seat. It’ll be ready soon.”
“What will be ready soon?”
“He wanted to make carbonara for you,” Dinora says with a grin.
The sweetly romantic, unexpected gesture hits me in the chest like a sledgehammer. My legs start shaking again, but it’s my heart that renders me speechless. “Red? Are you okay?” Carlo asks, concernedly.
“I skipped lunch. I think I should sit.”
He rushes to my side, pulling out a chair at the table, his hand gently guiding me.
I quiver under his touch, thanking him. With a final worried glance, he resumes his chopping while Dinora gives me motherly advice about the importance of not missing meals.
I listen in a detached, surreal state. I stare at my wedding band and the gorgeous engagement ring he had made for me.
The truth bubbles in my throat like bile.
I need Dinora to leave so I can tell him.
I want this to be between us. I don’t want to ruin the peace of this domestic moment either.
Suddenly, Carlo scowls, sets the knife he’s using aside and wipes off his hands before answering his phone. “Renato?”
His brother’s calling. He listens for a moment and then his eyes meet mine. Oh God, they know. I’m a dead woman. I should’ve said something right away.
“Alright, make sure the girls are guarded. I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up, telling Dinora to take the food home to her husband.
“What is it?” I whisper, terrified of whatever is the matter and even more terrified at the thought of never again being held or kissed by my husband.
“My father had another heart attack this afternoon.” Dinora and I both gasp in shock. “Mother is with him at the hospital. I’d like to take you over to my parents’ home so you can sit with the girls before I join her. Renato says they’re scared and upset. Would you do that for me, Frankie?”
Flooded with relief on one hand and then fresh guilt for even feeling that way at such a time, I quickly nod.
“Of course, I will. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Carlo.
” Stumbling into his arms, I hug him tightly, wanting to be absolved for things he doesn’t know and wishing he knew how much I love him.