CHAPTER 37
"I married a man who kills the godfather. And I didn't run. I received him."
Valentina MORETTI
He woke me at six in the morning.
"Bella mia. Come with me."
I followed him to the study, still in my nightgown. He turned on the low light of the lamp and sat down in the chair by the window, the same chair as Mamma's letter, pulling me down to sit in his lap.
"I'm going to tell you something."
"Today?"
"Now."
He told me.
Carlo Acquaviva. Raffaele's godfather, along with Salvatore, in 1992.
He'd been recruited by Bianca sometime in 2018—Bianca, who'd been sleeping with Salvatore since 2016 and with Luca at the same time.
Salvatore had offered him the Rossi house if Luca fell.
Twenty-five percent. The betrayal had been planted in the Moretti house for seven years.
The confirmation had come the night before. Three of Salvatore's men in Pozzuoli, waiting for a shipment in Bagnoli that didn't exist.
I went still, felt my blood boil and freeze at the same time.
"Tonight," Luca said, low.
"Here in the house?"
"In the cellar."
I swallowed hard.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No."
"Va bene."
"Bella mia." He turned me on his lap, his open hand on my face. "Don't come down to the cellar, but stay in the house."
I rested my forehead against his.
I thought about everything my life had been up to the age of twenty-two.
The convent. The Sorbonne that never happened. Bologna that never happened. A girl raised to pray in silence, with a dagger in her boot.
And I thought about the woman I was now, sitting in the lap of the padrone of Posillipo, listening to him tell me he was going to kill his brother's godfather tonight.
"I'm not going to run from what you are, Luca."
He closed his eyes for half a second.
"I know, bella mia."
I kissed the scar on his eyebrow.
The study door opened without a knock. It was Adelina.
"Luca."
"Sì, nonna."
"Tonio won't understand when he finds out. You tell him, don't send word."
"Va bene, nonna."
She looked at me, resting her free hand on my shoulder.
"Brava, signora."
He left.
The day dragged. I played piano. The nonna read Petrarch in the green room. Donna Beatrice cleaned the same marble table three times. The whole house pretended it was a normal day.
It wasn't.