Chapter 19 Kira
KIRA
Iget an entire day to myself. Stellan’s not in bed the next morning, and I really do call out of work. The poor dogs will miss me, but they’ll survive.
With Gem at school, I have the big, gorgeous house all to myself.
I don’t even know what to do at first. Since when did I have free time? After exploring my new home, I get dressed and take a walk around the neighborhood. There’s a cute café nearby, a bodega two blocks over, some restaurants and pizza places, and a park with an adorable playground.
It’s strange, sitting down on a bench at four in the afternoon.
Gem will get home in a little over an hour, and we’ll talk about her day.
But for now, I have no obligations, nothing pressing for my time, no pressure to rush off to the next back-breaking minimum wage job.
There’s still stress—there will always be stress, that’s just how I am—but right now, it’s muted and almost silent.
Though it comes roaring back when I step through the door and find Stellan waiting for me with a dress.
He’s in his usual suit, though I think this one’s nicer than usual.
His facial hair is trimmed and groomed neatly, and his hair’s pushed back.
But it’s the dress that really bothers me.
It’s deep black and draped over the bed.
I’m guessing a heavy wool blend. Conservative but also obscenely expensive, with a modest neckline, defined shoulders, and a tight bodice.
“What the hell is that?”
Stellan is checking himself in the bathroom mirror and glances over with a frown. “That’s a dress.”
“But what’s it doing here?”
“You’re wearing it in three hours.”
“I’m not doing anything but going to bed in three hours.”
“We have the meeting tonight.” He stares at me thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have gotten navy.”
Shit, the meeting. He wants to parade me around in front of his criminal council thing. And I can’t say no because it’s a core part of our agreement.
“I didn’t say you could dress me up.” I go over and touch the dress. It’s absurdly high-quality. I don’t see any labels, though. “Where’d it come from?”
“Bottega Veneta. Heard of them?”
I nearly gag. “Are you insane? That fancy freaking boutique place?”
“The owner is a friend.”
“Oh my god. Of course. How much did this thing cost?”
“Put it on.” He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms.
“Right in front of you?”
“Yes. Now.”
I hesitate. I’m very tempted. It’s a beautiful dress. “Is Gem home?”
“She’s up on her floor. Put on the dress, Kira.”
“I should talk to her.”
“After you get changed. I want the council to see how beautiful you are.”
Well, shit. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and coming from him, it somehow means even more. With a soft curse, I grab the dress and retreat into our massive walk-in closet.
“You don’t get a show!” I call out, closing the door and locking it.
I swear I can hear him laughing.
A half hour later, I find Gem in her room sitting at her new desk in her new fancy desk chair with her school books open. “Hey, you doing okay?”
She looks back—and her jaw drops open. “Holy moly. Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t be funny.” I step inside hesitantly. “I look okay?”
“Okay?! Kira, you look like a model or something.”
“I feel like a politician.”
“Sure, maybe in Italy, and more like a politician’s arm candy. Holy crap. Where did you get that dress?!”
I glance at myself in the mirror she has propped against her wall. I really do look good. The dress is conservative but flattering. The fit is absolutely perfect. Which is infuriating, because somehow Stellan made this happen in an afternoon. “You-know-who decided he likes dressing me up.”
“Well, you’re luckier than I thought.” She leans back and laughs to herself. “I got so used to seeing you in aprons and dog hair. I forgot you’re really pretty.”
“Thanks. I think. But listen, we’re going out tonight for a few hours. Will you be okay?”
“I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“I know that. But this whole thing is new. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”
“If you’re okay, then I am too. And how can you not be in that freaking dress?”
“Ha, ha, ha, you’re hilarious. I always thought I got the sense of humor in the family.”
“Nah, it skipped you and went right to me.”
I hesitate, wishing she’d asked me to stay behind. A little note of fear keeps ringing in my guts. But Stellan’s waiting for me downstairs.
“Order something for dinner. The big guy’s paying.”
“Happily. I’ll go nuts.”
“Please do.” I go over and give her a tight hug.
“You sure you’re good?”
“I’m totally good.” I step back and turn away. I don’t want her to see how afraid I am. All this time I’ve spent taking care of her, and I’ve always done my best to keep the worst of it shoved away. The less she has to carry, the farther she’ll get to fly.
Stellan escorts me into the back of a fancy town car.
We have a driver for the evening. He takes us deep into South Philly into a neighborhood I’m not very familiar with.
Stellan points out locations as we go: dry cleaners, supermarkets, restaurants, and bars.
All of them owned or operated by affiliates of his family.
The driver drops us at an old Catholic church. I linger as Stellan heads straight toward the back entrance. “You sure we’re in the right place?”
He comes back and takes my arm. His voice softens, and I have to lean in close to hear him. “From now on, assume we’re being watched. Do you understand your role tonight?”
My jaw tightens. “I’m the meek and dutiful wife. Keep my head down. Speak when spoken to. Let the men do their business. Fucking pricks.”
“Perfect. You’ll be fine.” He tugs me closer. I slip my hand through his arm. “You really do look incredible. A man could be proud to have you by his side.”
“Could he? So how do you feel?”
“Like I want to get this over with.”
“That makes two of us.”
He leads me through an unlocked door and into what looks like a maintenance room. There are tools, extra pews, and Bibles piled on a workbench. Through another door, down another hall, and we step into the main room with rows of polished pews.
Men are sitting in them. It’s eerie how they turn and stare. There are only a few lights on, and the faces are hard to make out. But I can tell they’re mainly old, mainly well-dressed, and all of them are Italian.
Stellan walks down the aisle. I stay close behind him, head tilted down and my hands folded in front of me. I glance up, another flutter of worry in my guts. The men turn to look, and I get more than a few curious glances—and several straight-up hostile stares.
Which is a surprise. Why do some of these men look like they want to strangle me right here?
“We’re glad you could come,” a larger man says. He’s smiling, almost uncomfortable, as he glances back at the men around him. “On behalf of the Corsetti council, I’d like to welcome you both, Stellan Corsetti and Kira Santoro.”
One of the men, a thin and severe-looking gentleman with thin gray hair, grunts out a curse and shakes his head. “Santoro. That’s a name I never wanted to hear in council ever again.”
“Easy, Turi,” another man tuts at him, wagging a finger. “We all know your feelings. You’ve made them clear.”
“Gentlemen.” Stellan ignores the exchange. “I appreciate you all coming here tonight. I know it’s dangerous to bring the council together in one room.”
“Dangerous indeed,” the big man says, the one who originally welcomed us. “But worthwhile given the circumstances.”
“I’m shocked Matteo can talk with his lips firmly planted on Stellan’s ass,” Turi says, still looking disgusted.
The big man Matteo glares back at him. “Don’t you test me, you old fuck. I’ll come over here—”
“Please,” Stellan says, his voice low and booming. The men all look at him, but the bickering stops.
Now I see why he’s desperate to become the Don. If this “council” is running things, I suspect not much is getting done. They’re probably busy fighting each other all the time. There are seven men in total, eight including Stellan. That’s a lot of ego to deal with.
Stellan gestures at me. I risk a glance around again before bowing my head respectfully.
“This is my future wife, Kira Santoro. We’ve agreed to a marriage, and I’m only here to present her, as requested.
This council has asked certain things of me, and I’ve done nothing but accommodate you all.
Now I’ve taken the final steps toward legitimacy. ”
There’s a low murmur of assent. One of the men stands.
He’s heavyset and has a gold chain around his neck.
“Stellan, we appreciate what you’ve done here.
It’s obvious you didn’t want to take a wife, but you listened and you made the right choice for the entire Famiglia.
However, what I want to know is why this girl?
Why not one of the girls we suggested from good families? ”
I bristle at that. What the hell does this asshole know about me and my family? But maybe he’s got a point. My dad’s dead and my mom’s an addict. I’m not exactly high-class stuff.
“I appreciate your concern, Saverino, but Kira is the perfect choice. You all know what happened years ago with Bryan. You all were there and you remember how it hurt. Kira had nothing to do with any of it. I suspect she doesn’t even know what we’re talking about.”
I glance at him, heart racing into my throat. He’s right—I have no clue what the hell he’s going on about. Why’s he talking like he knew my father? That’s my dad’s name, Bryan, but he’s been dead for years.
“Even so, to bring a Santoro here, after all that happened—” Saverino sighs and gestures expansively. “It feels like an insult.”
“It is a fucking insult,” Turi snaps.
“Quit, you old cock.” Matteo waves a fist at him. “You closed-minded fuck.”