10. Sicily
SICILY
I locked myself in the bathroom the moment we walked through the door to what was now home.
Milan said nothing, probably grateful that he could get rid of me again, but I didn’t care.
I needed the peace, the bubbles of a deep bath, and time to think about everything that had happened and how I was going to carry it all.
Holding the emotions of the world allowed me to experience all the love it had to offer, but it also kept me locked in a cage of everything, and it seemed like nobody had the key to let me out.
I stared up at the soft yellow light from the chandelier above the bath. It lit the white marble of the bathroom, shone the bubbles that clung to my skin, and made the coldest walls feel soft.
My inhale was loud as I breathed in to dunk my head under the water, trying to ignore how the size of the room and house shrunk me into a place of loneliness again.
Milan and Adriano were in a room I hadn’t seen downstairs, but I knew it was the one that wasn’t allowed to be called a gym because Milan believed gyms were reckless liabilities.
It was far away, so far that I couldn’t even hear murmurs between the floors, so far that I had no choice but to focus on the silence.
Gasping, I resurfaced, the sound of my splutter almost drowning out the buzz of my phone against the tile beside the bathtub. I fumbled for it blindly, sloshing half the water onto the floor, but once I got hold of it, I almost dropped it into the water.
Fiorella
Are you a boring loser now that you’re married, or do you wanna come dance?
What are you talking about?
Her next message was an address—plain and simple and suspicious.
I typed it into Maps, frowning at the location. It was a penthouse in Manhattan, one I was almost certain was in Gioffre territory.
I opened a new text, this time to Matt, and pasted the address with a few question marks.
He replied seconds later.
Matteo
Those brain-dead fucks live there. The Gioffre heirs. Do NOT go there.
Fiore’s there!
Matteo
For fuck’s sake, your sister is a fucking nightmare.
I can’t be there for another two hours.
I smirked despite my turning stomach.
Elena’s father had bought a holiday home two hours away from where we lived. At least somebody was having a good night, but two hours was far too long. The Gioffres were rebellious, reckless, and I’d once heard a rumor about their fingers and someone’s stomach.
I didn’t want my sister there for two seconds, let alone two hours.
It would take me an hour to get to Manhattan, less if I drove like Adriano and didn’t tip them off that I’d left. Milan probably could’ve helped if I told him, but he was Fiorella’s Capo now, and I didn’t want him to punish her like the madman he was.
The choice was obvious; I needed to sneak out and drag my sister out of there.
I shot a text to Fiore, telling her to wait for me, that I’d be there in an hour, and got ready with no regard for my outfit for the first time ever.
I threw on what I’d worn to Chicago, a long-sleeved lace bodysuit and jeans with black heels I’d spent a month last year breaking in, and tiptoed through the house to the first floor that I hadn’t explored yet.
The door to the garage was an unsuspecting one in a maze of a circular corridor with marble pillars, expensive crap in boxes still, and at least ten doors that all looked the same, but I remembered details, and there was a black scuff near the lock on this one.
My heels clicked against the glossy black garage floors as I snuck inside, and I couldn’t help but gawk despite how many times Milan had parked us in here. It was practically a showroom with golden overhead strip lights, and two rows of cars facing one another like they were already in a showdown.
Whenever Milan drove us anywhere, he always used the same car and parked in the same spot, so it was easy enough to tell which side was his. His cars were all black and boring and probably had a tracker in them.
Adriano’s side was a rainbow. While Milan’s cars were fit for purpose and purpose alone, Adriano’s were bright and asking to be seen by the entire world.
They were beautiful, several a deep blue, another sporting a bright pink, and for a second, maybe slightly more than a second, I forgot that this was an awful thing to do and clamped down on my need to squeal.
I walked slowly toward the shelves of keys and forgotten items I’d accidentally left in Milan’s car, trying to give myself time to decide which one was calling my name.
I wasn’t great at deciding which outfit I wanted to wear let alone a car to steal, so I spent time shoving the pink, fruity lipstick that I’d left on my husband’s passenger seat onto my lips.
It was blush pink, scented like peaches too, and the moment the color touched my lips, I targeted the baby pink car at the very end of the garage, the one Adriano clearly didn’t use enough.
I skipped toward it, knowing I shouldn’t be excited but was, snatching the keys on the way.
I was breaking all of Milan’s stupid rules, and something about knowing that he would despise this made it better.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I purred to the car as she woke up with the click of the fob.
The mirrors extended, the handles revealed themselves, and the interior lit with white neon lights as I clambered inside and threw my heels onto the leather passenger seat.
My insides flipped as the engine let out a purr, not quite starting but anticipating, and then a loud warning beep sounded as she practically yelled, “Driver not recognized. Identity verification required.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Adriano,” I whispered in case the car was listening.
There was a small fingerprint scanner flashing a deep red beside the start button, clearly waiting for Adriano’s fingerprint that I obviously didn’t have.
My hands rummaged through the glovebox for anything that might be able to help, but all he had were a box of mints, three empty packets of strawberry candy, and two boxes of condoms. It made me wonder who this car truly belonged to, Adriano or Francesco.
As I slammed the glovebox closed, my lipstick tube rolled onto the floor.
I reached down to find it and suddenly caught the door in a new light.
It was smudged with fingerprints, probably strawberry candy or sex fingerprints, but they were exactly what I needed.
My thumb popped off the lipstick’s pink lid with a quiet click as I sighed. “I’m so sorry, Adriano. I’ll clean it.”
I ran the tip of the lipstick over the door handle, smudging it into the car until it leaked into the crevices of Adriano’s fingerprint, and then pressed my own finger into the tacky mess, transferring it instantly onto the scanner and praying to whoever was watching over me that it worked.
The entire car paused like it didn’t quite believe me, and then, she roared to life with a simple, “Adriano Sansone, have a nice journey.”
My mouth dropped open. I’d done it, on my own, in a pink car, nonetheless.
I felt high and jittery as I slapped my hands onto the wheel and released the brake, just a little, letting it roll toward the garage door which shot open immediately, obviously recognizing Adriano’s car, not the driver, and I swallowed heavily as the dark skies engulfed my visibility.
Releasing the pedal forced the car to jolt forward, almost crashing us straight into the gate at the end of the road.
The two guards stationed there gestured for me to roll down the window as I pulled up, and I prepared to be sent back into the house in a body bag, but they simply said, “Evening, Mrs. Lucca. Mr. Lucca didn’t mention anyone would be leaving tonight. Is everything okay?”
Mrs. Lucca.
It still gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I swished my hair that was almost dry and plastered a smile onto my lips. “Just fine.”
“Why’re you leaving?” he asked a little uncomfortably. “It’s rather late… Can we get something for you?”
These guys were too good at their jobs to believe my lies.
“No, no, I’ll go myself. Don’t trouble yourselves.” I grinned as if that would make me less suspicious.
The soldier laughed awkwardly. “That’s our job, Mrs. Lucca.”
The rumbling car began to sound far too loud, like it could wake an entire neighborhood, let alone alert the two Made Men inside my own house, and the digital clock suddenly had an impossible ticking to it, counting down each minute that I wasn’t using to get to my sister.
I didn’t want to be horrible to these guys, and I’d send them a gift basket or something tomorrow, but I needed to get Fiore, and enough time had been wasted.
“What would your Capo say if I told him that his wife couldn’t leave her house?”
The second guard poked his head closer to the window, his face remaining firmer than the first, whose face had blanched. “We’re just protecting you, Ma’am. That’s what our Capo would want. Shall I call him and ask him to approve you leaving?”
My stomach knotted, though they probably deserved a promotion. It wasn’t like I could say, No, absolutely do not call my highly strung husband in case he beats me to death for sneaking out… Oh, by the way, do you happen to know if he did that to his own mother and sister?
Instead, I kept my fake smile plastered onto my lips, holding back the annoyed groan that wanted to slip free. “He’s sleeping. He doesn’t feel well. Do you want to wake him?”
“No…” he said slowly, frowning. “I just spoke to him earlier and—”
“People can get sick in twenty minutes!” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but it silenced the guard and his disapproval.
I let out a long sigh, clutching the wheel like it could save me.
“Be my guest if you want to wake him from sleeping off his bad, bad bout of food poisoning, or we could all save ourselves his temper, and you could just let me leave.”
They shared a look that was more a frown than anything else before the first nodded to the second, and he walked across the driveway to the control unit.