Chapter 8
LELANI
Her hand crumples an embroidered handkerchief while her tears roll down her face like tiny gemstones.
She feels bad for me. And I feel bad for her. The story of our lives.
She deserves better than this.
And so do I.
“Sylvia called me after New Year’s Eve and asked me to take some time off in March,” she says, her gaze pointed down.
“I didn’t think much of it. Throughout the years, she’d asked me to take time off around the family’s schedule.
I thought it was one of those instances, but she quickly got to the point and told me they’d visit their property in Montalcino and wanted to see me. ”
She lifts her gaze.
“My stomach dropped when I noticed the strange urgency in her voice. Plus, what she’d said made no sense to me. She wanted me to take some time off so I could go there and do what exactly? If she wanted me to work, she should’ve said so.”
She sighs.
“Anyway, I had a hunch that it had nothing to do with me. Although some of the worst scenarios popped into my head. An older friend of mine, who knew your family back in the day, when I started working for the Gallos, had warned me that things might get bad for me in the end. I didn’t want to believe her, but I surely did that day after talking to your grandmother.
Yet, something in her voice suggested that her focus wasn’t on me.
The fact that she wanted me there had nothing to do with me being there.
She just wanted me to be away from here.
Then I realized that she wanted me to lie to you, so obviously, the entire story was about you.
The details were sparse. Other than the fact that I needed to arrive at their place on a certain date, she offered nothing to me. ”
I sag back in my seat, while she continues.
“I arrived at their estate on a Monday. I was led to my room and invited to have dinner with your grandmother. It felt weird to me not to work and go through those steps as if I were a guest. Eventually, we met in the dining room. She was alone, yet she told me that Flavia and Giorgio and a few other people were about to join us soon.”
“Was Callum there too?” I ask directly, the question burning my lips.
“No.”
“Did he come later?”
“No. We never met while I was there.”
I quietly exhale.
“What happened next?”
“She started our conversation by saying that she was worried about you. I said everything was fine with you, because it was. You were no longer grieving and couldn’t be happier.”
Her eyes slide to the side as we both know that this isn’t exactly the truth.
I had never grieved, and being happy in that optimistic, exhilarating way had never been my forte.
“Did she buy it?” I ask dryly.
She nods.
“She had no choice. There was nothing else I could tell her.”
She pauses for a moment.
“Then she said she needed me to keep an eye on you. Big changes were afoot, she said, and as things stood, you’d be the central piece in that story.”
“What the hell was she talking about?”
“I asked her the same thing, but not in those words. She eventually shared with me that they were looking for a suitable husband for you.”
“A suitable husband,” I murmur sarcastically. “Is that how it’s called? Did they find anyone suitable for me?”
She says nothing, so I continue.
“So far, I’m not impressed with their selection. She mentioned a few names to me. The Sandoval brothers, as you already know. And then, Andrea Mancuso,” I go on, unsure whether Nona has an updated list of all the criminally insane mobsters taking up residence in my grandmother's vile imagination.
“There are more,” Nona says quietly, suggesting that I might need to update my list.
My eyebrows lift slowly.
“Anyone I know?”
“They didn’t give me any names. It wasn’t about the names, really. It was about my keeping an eye on you, as I just said, and reporting on what you were doing and whether you were secretly seeing a man.”
A chill sweeps my back.
My jaw locks as I think of all the things that could’ve reached Sylvia’s ears.
Things that no one should know about me.
“What did you tell them?” I ask as if waiting for a death sentence pronouncement.
A soft smile curls her lips.
“Nothing. I told her nothing. There was nothing to tell.”
I read her eyes.
She didn’t reveal the biggest secret of all? My crush on the man who could change everything for me?
I’m surprised he was not part of the Montalcino meetup.
Although if I know anything about him, his dislike for my family might be bigger than mine.
“She got the same story every other week. You were seeing no one. And that was that.”
I remain quiet.
A dark shadow slides over her eyes as her gaze trails down.
“Later that evening, Giorgio arrived, accompanied by the other guests. Flavia attended the event without her husband. Soon after eating dinner, I retreated to my room. I didn’t feel comfortable sitting at the table with my employer.
After spending the entire day traveling and the evening with your grandmother, I quickly fell asleep.
Sleeping in a bed that is not my own has always been problematic for me, and that night was no exception.
I jerked out of my sleep at around eleven as if a hand pulled me out of the drowsy state.
The shrimp I ate earlier, although delicious and well done, had given me heartburn.
I spent a few minutes looking for medication before I poured myself a glass of water, pulled on a robe, and, barefoot, I walked onto the terrace.
It was a cold night, but I needed the crisp air to sharpen my focus. ”
She stares blankly at the floor as she goes on.
“Soon after, I slipped into a chair and looked up at the stars. Before long, footsteps traveled down the alleyway in the backyard. Although my chair was tucked in a dark corner, my first impulse was to rise and return to my room. I quickly realized that the two people pulling to a stop under my balcony could hear me, and starting a dialogue with them was the last thing I wanted to do. So I froze in my seat, my hand stiff around my glass of water.”
A few moments pass.
“Sylvia was talking to Flavia, and her voice was different than anything I’d heard before.
I never considered them close or Flavia particularly sharp, but my impression of Bianca’s sister was about to change.
She spoke as if she were in the loop. They were chatting about you being groomed for a new role.
Some of the words got lost in the wicked wind blowing that night.
But it eventually became clear that they were talking about your marriage and considering different options.
They thought several men could be potentially great for you, and they weren’t talking about the Sandoval brothers or that psychopath from Napoli. I don’t think so.”
She rubs a hand over her forehead, her fingers tense.
“I think they dropped their names tonight because they wanted a reaction from you. They baited you and also got into your head. Made you think about these men and get used to the idea that marriage is unavoidable. They’re telling you it’s time to get a husband.
I think they know exactly who they want for you. ”
“Who do you think that is?”
She shrugs.
“I don’t know. They mentioned names I'd heard from other people before. Older men. Filthy rich men. Men who lost their wives in dubious circumstances.”
I mull over her words, my lips dry, my chest heavy.
My special night has morphed from my first night of freedom into my first night of war.
“But why? Why are they so determined to marry me away? So, now I’m not even a good fit for one of the upcoming youngsters? They want me to warm some old asshole’s balls? Who are these old men to them? I don’t understand.”
She bites her lip in frustration as she muses over a good answer.
“I think Giorgio has the answer.”
Huffing in frustration, I slap my thigh with a tense hand.
“Of course he does.”
“Seriously. I heard him, too, that night. After Flavia had walked off to her room, Sylvia spent a few moments outside, waiting for her husband. The house was full of guests, and it made sense to speak outside. They were quiet, but I could still hear him say that the growing danger in New York had to do with a certain family from Sicily. I knew he wasn’t talking about a regular family.
That much I knew. Sylvia asked him if Callum could help.
He said he probably could, but he didn’t want to start an outright war.
He wasn’t prepared for one, and he also couldn’t fully trust Callum. ”
“He said that?” I ask, a glimmer of satisfaction swirling in my head.
Finally, Callum and I have something in common.
Neither of us can be trusted.
Also, good on Giorgio for not trusting Callum.
You can never trust what money can buy. Or whatever else he’d offered him to make him marry my mother.
My money’s still on blackmailing him. I don’t see Callum bending the knee for a suitcase full of cash.
He’s not that kind of man.
“Yes, he did. And he reiterated that a war was not the answer. A powerful family was.”
“A mafia family,” I murmur.
She tilts her head in acknowledgment.
“Yes. I’m not sure how useful this information is or whether you can use it.
All I know is that they’ll introduce the idea of several men to you, gauge your reaction, and then make you choose whatever they want you to choose.
They need you to go along with their plan, especially if there’s a lot at stake.
They can’t mess it up. A lot depends on your saying yes and being compliant.
Think about it and let nothing out. They have eyes on you.
I’m not the only person in this house. People watch you from every corner of this place, and they report back to them.
Whatever you choose to do in the end, try to outsmart them instead of openly opposing them.
You depend on them entirely, and there are things that they can do to you.
Things that are worse than having you exiled on this beautiful property. ”
Her words dishearten me.
She doesn’t see it. She can’t see it.
There’s a tear blooming at the corner of my eye, like a snowball about to fall and leave a mark on my face.
My family outdoes itself every time, coming up with something more atrocious, more immoral, more painful, and more outrageous than the last.
They won’t stop until I make them stop.
In the span of an hour, I went from thinking that my power lay in a silky dress, a sexy cleavage, lips made for sin, and flirty, snug shorts to realizing that I’m just another poor soul, a bird trapped in a cage, waiting to be turned into a heap of bloody feathers.
My tears never see the light of day, though. They’re tucked in my soul with all the other unshed tears.
Never cry, Lani.
They’re not worth your tears.
A soft knock on the door makes us turn our heads.
It’s not the knocking in itself. It’s the softness of that touch. And then I hear her voice.
“Lani?”
Relief blooms in my chest.
“It’s Rory,” I say, pushing to my feet. “I’ll walk out with her.
You leave a little later, so no one can see you.
We’ve never had this conversation,” I say in silence.
“Thank you,” I add, snaking an arm around her neck and hugging her briefly.
“We’ll talk again. And I’ll never forget what you did for me. ”
With that, I head to the door.