Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
T en years ago
Sicily
Vincent
“Come noi li rimettiamo ai nostri debitori,
E non ci indurre in tentazione,
Ma liberaci dal male.
Amen.”
The priest makes the sign of the cross, and we all follow suit. It’s rained nonstop since we landed in Italy two days ago, which all things considered is a perfect fit for the occasion. A small canopy covers the priest and the casket, while the mourners all hold various black umbrellas.
With the exception of the color scheme, the assembly isn’t terribly unlike our wedding. It rained then too. The seating is morbidly similar too, a narrow aisle separating my family from hers.
The priest continues on, this time in Latin. The prayers and the constant patter of rain against the umbrellas weave into a melancholy background while I search the faces of the crowd. My brothers are here with me. Our father is too, though aside from his irritation as to its impact on the business, he hasn’t been overwhelmed with grief over the death of his daughter-in-law and infant grandson.
Fucking bastard .
My mother stands next to him, as always. She cries softly, hidden behind the black lace veil she wears.
Across the aisle, my late wife’s family is gathered. Most of them, I don’t recognize. I do recognize her father, who stares blankly, a bored expression on his face. To my knowledge, he made no attempt to stay in contact with his daughter after the wedding. After all, it’s just business. A transaction. A family bond to solidify political alliances.
In other words, the typical arranged marriage in the mafia. With the slight twist that I actually cared for my wife. Certainly more than he ever cared about his daughter.
Her brother is another story. He catches my gaze and returns it. He is his father’s son in every sense of the phrase, with the exception of his eyes. Both he and his sister inherited their mother’s emerald green eyes.
Eyes that are currently looking at me with nothing but pure hatred burning in their depths.