Chapter 15 Francesca
Francesca
“Tell me every detail!” Caterina squeals through the video chat over my phone.
She despised the revealing dress her mother made her wear to her own betrothal dinner, so she thoroughly enjoyed helping me choose something to bring some levity to mine.
I was glad it brought her some amusement after all her worry on my behalf.
“They were shocked by my new vocation. The poor old Don looked like he was going to have a coronary.” Cat’s answering giggles are infectious. To me, anyway.
“Fucking New York, acting like they’re the goddamn Vatican of the Mafia. Self-righteous assholes,” Alessio grumbles from behind me. “He didn’t even give you a fucking ring.”
“He didn’t give you a ring?” Cat repeats, sounding shocked.
“Suits me fine. They called it a family dinner, and it’s not official without the ring. Maybe he’ll back out of it.” I can hope. “I think Carlo would’ve laughed at my joke like his brothers did… eventually.”
He certainly liked the sexy red dress, not that I’ll point that out to Alessio. My cousin will work with Carlo in the coming years for the same reason Carlo will work with him – it’s mutually beneficial. Tolerance is the most we can hope for between alpha males like them.
“What were his sisters like?” Cat asks. “I’ve never met them.”
“They’re still kids, but they seem nice. Giulia, the youngest, you should’ve seen her signing with Carlo. I never knew fingers could fly so fast.”
I hadn’t known the girl was deaf, hadn’t really heard of her at all other than that day when Beppe asked about her.
One of the girls from my choir group in high school would sign the lyrics of songs during our services.
I always wanted to learn and now I have a…
Well, I would have an excellent reason to learn if I was going to marry Carlo.
Her mother’s expression grew tight every time I addressed Giulia, and I saw how the Don would look away. I wonder if the child’s been made to feel as I have, like something shameful that’s best ignored. I really hope I’m wrong about that.
Seeing her and Carlo interact though had been an unexpectedly sweet moment in the evening.
He’s been a Made Man for ten years. He’s killed, tortured, blackmailed and probably done a thousand other horrible things this year alone, but he’s comfortable showing affection to a seven-year-old in front of a potential rival like Alessio. What sort of father would he be?
“His mother’s a bitch,” Alessio chimes in, looming over my shoulder to see his wife on the screen.
I smack him with one of the hotel’s sofa cushions, but I’m afraid life among the Vicini family would be like crossing a minefield of expectations and judgment on a daily basis from Carlo’s parents alone.
“When’s the wedding?” Cat asks.
“Two weeks from now,” I groan. I’d hoped for more time to find a way out of it.
Cat gives me a pitying smile. “I guess after they’d spent two years planning a ceremony only for the bride to take off the day before they don’t want to take any chances.”
“I wish you were here,” I tell her. I’m grateful Mom agreed to come with me after Carlo called to personally invite her, but I miss my dear friend.
We grew even closer during those dark days of my captivity in Vegas and what she did for me when Rocco…
I push the horrible memories away, but I’ll never forget how she saved me.
“I wish I was, too, but someone is being extra cautious since becoming Capo.”
“You’ll be at her wedding, but I’ll make no excuses for protecting you, Caterina,” Alessio says in a tone that tells me they’ve had more than one discussion about this.
“It’s alright. Someone needed to keep Gia company in Vegas,” I say, hoping to soothe any ripples between the newlyweds.
They had enough trouble because of me when Sofia fled while Gia alone in Vegas taking care of a healing Armando could spell more trouble Alessio doesn’t need… even if I wouldn’t blame her.
“I want to speak to my wife. Alone.”
“You have your own phone!” He raises an eyebrow after snatching mine away. “Fine. Don’t do anything dirty with it at least,” I mumble before going to check on Mom.
I don’t know if my mother will ever recover from my Sister Donnelly stunt, but I needed to own tonight, approach it my way. I was nervous about facing his family and, oddly enough, nervousness brings out the performer in me.
I also wanted to reassure Carlo I was okay despite what happened. In truth, I'm still trying to reassure myself of that.
“He called every day to check on you," my mother says, climbing into bed. "I know it’s unorthodox how it came about, but I think he may fall in love with you.”
“Not you, too, Mom. Aunt Bibi fed Sofia enough false hopes, and Cat’s already convinced it will become a love story. You know what our men are like. We’re possessions to them. He couldn’t stand the thought of Rocco having me before-”
“Please, Francesca!” Mom gasps, turning pale.
I really need to harness this mouth of mine. My methods for dealing with trauma aren’t the same as hers, and Silvio was her big brother. "Sorry, Mom," I say, stifling a yawn.
“Are you still not sleeping?” she asks. She’s more observant than I give her credit for.
“I do some.” She frowns, and I sit on the side of her bed, taking her hands in mine.
I know how happy this betrothal makes her despite all the ugliness that’s happened.
I feel extra guilty knowing what I have in mind later tonight.
“I think the wedding should be delayed, Mom. I can’t leave you so soon after you found out about Ronan. ”
“You needn’t worry about me. My son is alive, and I trust Carlo will treat you like a queen. And with Alessio as Capo, I’ll be safe in Vegas.”
I’m certain we’ll both be safe there, but I don’t say that. “I don’t think I can make Carlo happy.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I’m not Sofia. So many people here were impacted by what Da did. They’ll never accept me as their Don’s wife, and Carlo’s going to wind up resenting his choice.” And he’s bound to cheat once he does.
Mom purses her lips, so I change the subject. We talk until her eyes grow heavy.
When I quietly close her bedroom door, I find Alessio pouring himself a drink at the minibar. “I shouldn’t agree to this,” he says, handing back my phone.
“No, you probably shouldn’t, but you’re going to allow it, right?” I ask, hopefully.
“I think you’re making a mistake. If it makes you this unhappy, I’ll tell the fucker he can’t have you.”
Cat and I both secretly agreed it wouldn’t serve any of us if Alessio offends New York so early in his rein. “It’s my mistake to make. Why should us women never get a say in when and how we lose it?”
Alessio scowls at his drink before downing it. “There’s a car waiting downstairs. Be back before Aunt Beatrice comes out of that room in the morning. I don’t want to listen to her wailing.”
A fluttering sense of disbelief fills me.
He really agreed. It’s a big step away from the traditions we have drilled into us from a young age.
Not only that. Alessio hasn’t forced me to tell him anything about where Ronan might be.
I don’t know where he is and haven’t heard from him, but it’s the fact that Alessio has not asked.
That he’s willing to allow me out of his sight at all after everything is a blessing I don’t know I deserve.
He’ll never be a hugger, but I hug my cousin anyway. “Alright, alright,” he grumbles, and I have to smother my laughter before stepping away.
I check myself out in the mirror. The red dress, a fresh swipe of lipstick and my hair is artfully mussed. Bring on tonight’s Act Two - Frankie, the Seductress.