33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mialina
Idraw the brush through my hair and watch my reflection stare back at me from the vanity mirror.
At least one of us looks composed.
The woman in the glass appears perfectly calm. Her makeup is neat, her posture is straight, and there isn’t the slightest indication that she spent half the night mentally plotting the murder of a certain Chicago mafia don.
But appearances can be deceiving.
A fresh layer of snow blankets the grounds beyond my window. Aldo’s sprawling estate looks almost peaceful this morning, which seems unfair considering my mood.
I drag the brush through my hair a little harder.
After long reflection, I have arrived at a foolproof strategy for dealing with Maximo.
Avoid him. Entirely.
I won’t find myself trapped in discussions with him again where he stares at me as though I’ve become the most fascinating problem he’s encountered.
And if there are any more functions, I’d rather drink the vile concoction I made for Isa to avoid this Chicago trip and spend the evening violently sick.
That plan is simple, effective, and long overdue.
But avoiding Maximo is only half the solution. The other part of that scheme is to finally kiss somebody else. I’ve lost sight of that objective since our arrival here.
Considering how often my gaze seems determined to drift toward Maximo’s mouth, that oversight is becoming problematic.
I need proof that Maximo Marco has not somehow ruined my ability to find another man attractive enough to kiss. The only difficulty remains finding a suitable candidate.
Surely somewhere in a city of nearly three million people there exists a moderately attractive man who doesn’t belong to a criminal organization and won’t make my life significantly worse.
That doesn’t seem like an unreasonable request, does it? The odds have to be in my favor.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Come in.”
I watch in the mirror as Mamma steps inside.
There’s worry on her face that shouldn’t be there first thing in the morning. I’m instantly on high alert.
“Did something happen?” I ask, forgetting my own issues.
Did she have a fight with Aldo? Surely not. They’re sickly sweet with each other.
Perhaps something has happened in Sicily? Is someone sick?
Mamma sits down beside me on the small upholstered bench.
“Have you heard from your sister?” she asks.
I frown. “Isa?”
I haven’t had a message from her since she arrived in Las Vegas the day before yesterday. She was with Sebastian, preparing to start her new life. I wasn’t expecting her to contact me again until after her honeymoon.
But Mamma doesn’t know any of this. She thinks she’s still in Sicily.
“I tried calling her,” she continues. “It goes straight to voicemail. Then I tried the house, but nobody answered there either.”
“That isn’t necessarily strange,” I say quickly. “You gave most of the staff time off. And Renata was probably out running errands. She’ll call you back.”
Mamma nods, though she doesn’t seem convinced. As if summoned, her phone rings. She glances at the screen.
“It’s Renata.”
I grimace. I know what she’s going to tell my mother. Isa’s lie is about to unravel.
Merda, I don’t want to have the conversation that’s going to follow this call.
Mamma answers, and I watch her closely. At first, nothing changes, and she listens quietly.
Then a small crease appears between her brows. A few moments later, her gaze flicks to me.
My stomach sinks.
“Thank you, Renata. No, everything is in order. Goodbye.”
The concern that brought Mamma to my room is now joined by something else. Suspicion.
Mamma lowers her phone and studies me before crossing the room and settling onto the edge of my bed. The look she gives me is painfully familiar.
It’s the same one she used whenever one of us had been caught doing something we shouldn’t have. I feel about ten years old again.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me about your sister?”
My mouth goes dry.
“Um…”
Brilliant answer.
“According to Renata, Isabella left the estate the same day we did. Isa claimed she was feeling better and intended to join us in Chicago.” Mamma pauses. “She’s obviously not here. And judging by your face, I suspect you know what’s going on.”
I stare very hard at a decorative cushion beside her as the silence stretches.
I don’t want to betray Isa’s confidence. At the same time, lying to Mamma has never been one of my strengths.
“I’m waiting, Mialina.”
There’s my full name again. I bite the inside of my cheek.
“I suspect Isabella wasn’t really sick?”
“No, she was sick,” I reply automatically.
The second the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. One of Mamma’s eyebrows rises.
I groan. “That wasn’t the correct response, was it?”
“No.” Mamma folds her hands in her lap. “What did you give her?”
“Why do you assume I gave her anything?”
Now both eyebrows rise. I sigh.
“Fine. I may have helped her a little.”
“Mialina.”
“I made her a concoction that made her throw up.”
The look Mamma gives me suggests she’s somehow both disappointed and entirely unsurprised.
“Where is she?” she demands.
I hesitate for only a moment. “Las Vegas.”
Her brows draw together.
“Why is Isabella in Las Vegas? Start talking, Mialina.”
There isn’t any point in trying to soften it now.
“She’s eloping.”
For a moment, Mamma simply stares at me. Then she rises from the bed and begins pacing.
“She’s twenty-two,” I say quickly. “She’s an adult, Mamma. She met someone who isn’t in the mafia. After everything that happened with Luca, she wanted a chance at a normal life. She was going to tell everyone when we got home, once everything was official.”
Mamma presses her fingers against her temple.
“She disappeared to another country with a man none of us have met.”
When she puts it that way, it sounds a lot less romantic.
“How long has she known that man?”
“Long enough,” I say, deciding the vagueness means it technically isn’t a lie.
I don’t want to be the one telling her it’s only been a few weeks.
“I only found out about it the day you told us we’d be going to Chicago.”
Mamma stops pacing. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“Of course not. You would have tried to stop Isa. She’s old enough to make her own decisions and choose her own future.”
The frustration drains from her expression. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter.
“We only talked yesterday about the life we’ve been born into and that there is no getting out of it.” My gut clenches. “I’m not upset because she chose her own future, but because my daughter vanished without telling me where she was going.”
And I realize this isn’t anger. It’s fear.
“Mamma, I’m sure she’s fine.” I move closer and place a hand on her arm. “She’ll be married by now and on her honeymoon.”
“I pray you’re right.” The quietness of her answer twists something in my chest.
“We’ll see her when she gets back,” I say, my words not sounding so certain anymore.
Mamma shakes her head.
“I don’t think I can go now,” she says more to herself than me.
I frown. “Go where?”
A faint smile touches her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“The Marco family has a cabin in Colorado. Aldo thought it might be nice to spend a few days together there.”
Her expression clouds again. “I was considering it, but now…”
Her gaze drifts toward the window.
“Now one of my daughters has vanished to Las Vegas with a man I’ve never met and who isn’t part of our world.”
I wince. It does sound alarming.
“Mamma, we’re probably not going to hear from Isa until she comes back from her honeymoon in a week.” I sit beside her on the bed and squeeze her hand.
“You should go. Spending time with Aldo without Ari, Sienna and me around will be good for both of you.” I nudge her, and she smiles a little.
“Mia—”
“Seriously, go. Otherwise, you’ll spend the next few days sitting here imagining every possible disaster scenario while Isa is ordering room service somewhere and having the time of her life.”
Mamma studies me, and I shrug. I’m happy for Isa. It took her long enough to move on from Luca.
“What about your younger sisters?” Mamma asks.
At least she’s no longer dismissing the idea outright.
“I’ll look after them. It’s not like they’re infants anymore,” I reassure her.
Guilt pricks at me for having kept Isa’s secret from Mamma.
“You’ve spent years looking after all of us. You’re allowed a few days for yourself.”
Her expression softens. “And you’ll behave?”
I stare at her, offended. “Mamma, I’m very responsible.”
One eyebrow rises.
“Fine,” I admit. “I’m responsible in short bursts. But Ari and Sienna will survive.”
She huffs a laugh. “That’s not quite the reassurance you think it is.”
Still, some of the tension has left her shoulders, and she looks less burdened by worry.
“Fine,” she finally says. “Now, tell me what you know about this man Isa married.”