Chapter 50 SOPHIA
The next day…
After the meeting yesterday, Raffael took me out to dinner in the city, where he filled me in about the meeting with the other capos.
As expected, there was a big scene about him becoming a capo out of left field, a man with no name.
A soldier, as far as they were concerned, but Edoardo plowed through the other capos like a bulldozer.
Raffael smirked, "I don't think he made many friends with this move. "
"Probably not," I agreed, sipping my wine, "let's work on relationships to make sure the fallout lands only on Edoardo's head and not on yours."
"I love it when you're all calculating," Raffael grinned.
I had to admit, I kind of like it too. There's something inside me that enjoys this game of power, revenge, and plotting. Of staying ahead of the game.
"You were born a queen," Raffael said. "One day, I'll be Don, and you will be my queen."
I didn't even pretend not to like the idea. For somebody who had always lived in the shadows—kind of like Raffael, come to think of it—it's refreshing to spread my wings and find out how high I can fly.
Raffael summarized the reactions of the other capos before I filled Raffael in on my meeting with Marcello. Ending with, "I'd like to go see Marcello and Violet tomorrow,"
"You have your car, driver, and guards," he smiled at me.
"Thank you." I looked into his eyes and knew I was falling even more in love with him in that moment.
And even more this morning, when he kisses me goodbye before my driver takes me to Marcello's place.
It's important for my brother to see me out alone, to realize that I haven't exchanged one cage for another.
Raffael needs time to catch up at his office, too.
He needs to get through Roberto's things and introduce himself to the men who survived the cleansing.
I wouldn't be surprised to hear about more heads falling.
Raffael drilled me about Roberto's staff and men, wanting to know who knew what and how they behaved around me.
I still can’t believe how much my life has changed over the last month—and is still changing.
I get sick to my stomach when I think about the things Raffael told me about Venezuela.
The thought that he could have died there, and I would have never known about him, his feelings for me, what he did for me…
it nearly kills me. It's only bearable when I can hold him.
And now I'm about to meet my future sister-in-law, for real this time, not as part of her job. I liked her when she was his nurse, and I'm sure I'll like her now too. Still, I feel nervous when the SUV pulls up in front of Marcello's skyscraper.
Marcello must have already announced me, because the doorman and security guard both greet me reverently, "Signora Giordano."
Oh, how I hate this name. For that reason alone, I can't wait to finally marry Raffael.
I haven't officially said yes yet, even though our marriage is more or less a done deal; we told Edoardo as much.
It's nearly unavoidable if I don't want to jeopardize his new position as capo.
And I'm okay with that. Alright, more than okay, after all, I love the man.
Still, there is a part of me, the teenage girl, that yearns to be asked.
Really asked, rather than it being a done deal or as a suggestion on choices for my future life.
Silly. I know. I tell myself, as I enter the elevator and push the button for the top floor, that I should just grow up and tell Raffael.
I'm sure he wouldn't mind doing something romantic to pacify the teenager in me. But even sillier, I want him to do it without me saying a word. Yeah, I know, stupid. As if the man doesn’t have enough worries to take care of already, without having to cater to the whim of a hormonal woman.
Hormonal woman. That's when it hits me. I'm late for my shot with Doc Brown.
Instinctively, my hand moves to my stomach.
As archaic as it may sound, a son would solidify Raffael's position more.
A son. A little boy who looks just like Raffael.
A vision swims before my eyes, and a warm smile spreads on my lips.
I need to talk to Raffael about it, of course, but the thought of us being a family doesn't just warm me; it heats me from the inside out.
A little person I can pour all my love into and who loves me.
As little as I'd ever planned for the future, before Roberto, a child was always part of it.
I accepted from a young age that one day I would marry for La Famiglia.
But I've always wanted children. The moment at the shelter comes back to my mind, and with undisputable certainty, I know that Raf would make a great father.
The elevator stops, the sound of the doors opening rips me out of my musings, as do the four guards loitering in a formal anteroom. "Signora Giordano." They nod at me and open the heavy door to the suite.
I take another deep breath, plaster a smile on my face, and walk in. My first surprise is seeing Zia Rosa. I haven't seen her in years. Not since I visited Raffael in Sicily. Zia Rosa was a friend of my mom's. She followed Marcello after Daddy Dearest sent him into exile.
"Zia Rosa," I scream, surprised.
Zia Rosa drops her feared dish towel as she turns to me. Her eyes widen and her hands fly to her chest, "Oh bella figlia mia, my Sophia!"
Astonishingly fast, she rushes to me to embrace me in the hardest hug of my life. She still smells like cinnamon and garlic, so contradictory and so soothing.
"My sweet, sweet bella figlia," she gushes, kissing both of my cheeks. "Oh, that my old eyes see you again before I die. What a blessing. I prayed for you every night."
"Oh, Zia Rosa, I love you too. Ti amo." I kiss her cheeks back, realizing how much I missed her. She is so much warmer and more loving than my mamma ever was. Many times, I wished she were my mamma.
"I’ll kill that brat of a brother of yours for not telling me that you were coming," she curses, shaking her head and double chin. "I'll poison his food," she adds vengefully.
I laugh, "You never would. You love him too much."
"True," she admits. "Now go, you didn't come to chat with an old woman like me, go see your brother." She picks up the towel she dropped and swats it at me. I laugh.
"Had I known you were here, I would have come earlier," I say.
She shakes her head, "You had your own worries, now let Zia Rosa make you some Torta della Nonna, eh? You still like it?"
My mouth waters instantly. I haven't had Torta della Nonna since Sicily. "I would love that."
"Good. Now, go, that way," she points down the hall.
Laughing, I make my way to where she pointed, and a sudden bout of shyness overcomes me at the unfamiliar surroundings.
This place is nothing like the one Marcello had in Sicily.
This looks like a palace fit for a king.
I linger by the open bedroom door, tapping my knuckles gently against the frame, trying to calm the nerves swarming in my chest.
"Hey there," I manage, offering Violet, who is lying on the bed, a tentative smile.
Her face lights up. "Sophia," she waves me over with surprising warmth. "What a surprise."
I step in slowly, and my eyes land on the large ring on her hand, the one Marcello must’ve given her. My voice feels too soft for this room. "Marcello mentioned he proposed to you."
"He did," she beams, lifting her hand to show me the ring.
I smile. "Good. I'm glad he finally found someone. You were really nice to me at the hospital."
The words leave my mouth before I realize how much I mean them. It had been one of the only soft moments in a long stretch of brutal days. And yet, it’s all still there in my eyes, I know it is—the shadows, the ghosts.
Violet instinctively reaches for my hand. It startles me at first, but it’s gentle. Steady.
"We don't really know each other," she says, "but I like the idea of having another sister. I hope we can be that. And I want you to know that I'm here for you."
Her words melt something inside me. The kindness. The calm. I hadn’t expected it. "Me too," I say, feeling my lips curve, maybe genuinely this time. "I wasn't in a good place when I was visiting Marcello at the hospital."
"But you are now?" she asks softly.
"I'm a lot better now." I find myself nodding. And it’s true. Raffael, Esther, the therapy, the comfort, Lexy, and even the shelter have all been helping me to find myself, to get back, not to the woman I was, but to the woman I was supposed to be. One day at a time.
She leans forward and hugs me, catching me off guard.
"I don’t want to hurt you," I murmur, stiff at first.
"You won’t," she replies without hesitation, and I let myself fall into it.
It's funny how comforting a stranger’s arms can be. But she’s not really a stranger. Not anymore.
"So, want to be one of my bridesmaids?" she asks when we pull apart.
"Just tell me when." I grin. "I know the place for a wedding dress, too."
"Deal." Her smile matches mine.
"Hey, sis," a voice says, too casual.
My head whips toward it.
Marcello.
Butt naked.
"Oh my God," I shriek, spinning back around. "Use a towel, you perv."
My hands fly up to shield my eyes as Violet giggles beside me.
"It's my bedroom," he says unapologetically, disappearing into the closet.
"That's one sight that'll be burned into my eyes for years," I groan.
"I have the number of a good therapist," Violet offers, grinning.
Despite myself, I laugh. I've been doing that a lot more lately, and I like it. Marcello returns a minute later, in sweats and a shirt, and pulls me into a hug. I feel how tightly he holds me, how long he doesn’t let go.
He told me it was fine when we met at Don Edoardo’s, but neither of us was ready to talk then. Not really.
"Is he here too?" he asks quietly after a beat.
I shake my head. "No, we wanted you to see that I'm free to come and go as I please."
The word lingers in the air.
We.
Raffael and I.
I wonder if they catch it. If they realize what it means.
"Are you going to fill us in?" Marcello prompts gently.
"It's still pretty… raw," I admit, suddenly wishing the floor would swallow me. "But I want you to know that I'm safe and loved. Raffael has loved me for a long time, but he could never tell anyone. He saved me… twice."
My throat tightens, and my eyes sting. "I’ll tell you. I promise, just not… today."
Marcello nods, his expression unreadable, but his fists curl tightly at his sides.
"Sophia agreed to be one of my bridesmaids," Violet says quickly, steering us away from my unraveling.
"Good. It'll be in Vegas, I’ll let you know," Marcello says, hugging me again.
I pull out my phone. "Here’s my number, for both of you. I'm not a prisoner…" I laugh awkwardly. "Anymore. So call me anytime. I’d love to have lunch with either—or both—of you."
A soft sound from the bed draws my attention.
"Oh, you have a kitty!" I smile, genuinely delighted.
"It’s Violet’s," Marcello clarifies.
I’m already kneeling. "Can I pet him?"
"He loves pets," Violet nods, and the cat walks toward me like he owns the place.
I reach out slowly, afraid I’ll scare him, but Violet encourages me. "His name is Felix, and he’s more like a dog. You won’t scare him."
Sure enough, Felix presses his head into my hand, purring, and then flops dramatically on his back for a belly rub.
I giggle.
Marcello makes a sound of distaste, but I catch the way he’s watching me. Fascinated, but also… relieved.
"I never knew cats did that. I always thought they were afraid of strangers," I say.
"Not this one. This one likes to shred strangers," Marcello replies with a smirk.
"He was tiny when I got him," Violet explains. "I had to bottle-feed him. Ever since, he’s been more like a dog than a cat."
I scratch under Felix’s chin, and he licks my fingers. "Oh, how do I get one like this?"
"Don't worry, I'll find you one," Marcello promises with a wicked glint in his eye.
I know that look. God help Raffael.