6. Valerio
VALERIO
Ihave loved Federica Berardi since the day she turned eighteen. She was sitting on a stone bench at the edge of the lawn, in a sundress the color of milk, looking like she needed company. I went and sat next to her, without a word. After about a minute, she put her head on my shoulder.
She left it there for about a minute, while my heart beat furiously against my chest.
That was when I knew.
I went home that night and I stood in the kitchen of my parents’ home, convincing myself that it was wrong to feel the way I felt.
She is your best friend’s sister and six years younger.
That thought kept me from doing anything stupid for ten whole years.
But this year has been a lot. I’m confused, angry, sad.
I’m feeling all the emotions all at once.
My parents and sister were taken from me.
I was crowned capo and given responsibilities second only to those of a don.
I was put in charge of a whole borough, as well as the legacy and territory of the slaughtered Venezi family.
Which means over two million people, plus one very specific little person, depend on me.
For six months, I have mourned two things. The absence of my family, and the absence of her.
Tonight I have, finally, allowed myself to know that the absence of her is the one I am no longer going to live with.
It is a selfish realization, but it is also true.
I am going to honor her conditions. It will kill me, but I’ll do it. Every day for the rest of my life. In a house with her in it.
The door opens, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Tito carries an extra cup of coffee in. He sets it down on the desk and sprawls into his chair, ankle crossed over knee.
“So, you just signed up for a marriage you do not get to consummate, like, ever,” he summarizes. “Did I get that right, boss?”
“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but yes.”
“And you’re alright with that?”
“Like I said. None of your fucking business.”
He drinks his coffee and nods once. “Don Romano will be here at nine tomorrow.”
Shit. With all this chaos, I’d almost forgotten. “Good. Clear the office.”
“Already done.”
This is why I can’t be pissed at Tito for long. He’s a fucking nuisance, but he’s a skilled one. Better than any assistant I have ever had. He knows what I need and when I need it and he never makes me ask twice.
Which is the only reason he’s still breathing after questioning me about my marriage.
“You can go,” I say.
“Boss—”
“Now would be great.”
He gives me a lopsided smile and makes a pacifying gesture. “Alright. Fine. Get some sleep, boss.”
We both know I won’t.