Chapter 4
Chapter Four
RICCI
-Solo Noi-
I watch the sleek black limo gliding away up the cemetery road like a shadow slipping into the gray afternoon light.
It’s quite unbelievable how acutely aware of her I am. Even here, with hordes of people coming forward to murmur congratulations on my new position and curry favor with the freshly crowned Capo, my body has been tuned to her like a live wire. Every cell humming like a bee with it.
Once she leaves, I feel her departure in my bones. Everything has become dull and colorless.
The only thing worth watching at this funeral was her.
Discreetly but ceaselessly, I watched her, my eyes tracing her every movement, searching for any crack in that flawless mask, any little clue to what was really going on behind those dark shades.
I knew it would be fruitless—she never gives anything away—but I couldn’t stop myself.
When her turn came at the grave to throw in her handful of earth, I zeroed in completely.
Her skin looked extraordinarily pale. The deep black of her dress made it look almost translucent, like it had been stretched too thin.
She looked almost sickly, fragile in a way that made a protective primal instinct rear up inside me even as a stab of jealousy stabbed me right through the heart.
Maybe she was grieving for him in some hidden corner of her heart. Mourning for the bastard.
But I tell myself that’s not likely.
I knew what he was like with women.
There was clearly no affection or connection there.
She had been given little choice in the matter.
‘Die by your father’s hand or marry me’.
That was her choice. At that time, I had nursed a deep, simmering hatred and anger that she would be his wife.
His. He would have access to her body, her days, her nights—access I’d never had, never been allowed to claim.
The frustration of it has eaten at me for years.
All I want to do is crush her in my arms and rescue her from all this ugliness. In my mind I can already feel her slim frame pressed against me, her blonde hair brushing my chin, her scent filling my lungs.
I didn’t miss her speaking quietly with Bonafanti.
I saw the way the conversation ended, too.
He looked pissed off as he walked away, his face tight.
Her shoulders seemed to slump for the briefest second before she straightened again, and that iron control snapped back into place. I wonder what they talked about.
Now it’s time to head back to the house for the post-funeral refreshments.
I turn and walk toward the line of waiting vehicles, and without breaking my stride, I snap my fingers at Bonafanti.
He breaks into a run immediately, his polished loafers crunching over the gravel, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool breeze.
I slide into the cool leather seat of the black Escalade SUV.
The interior smells of a new car and faint cigar smoke.
Bonafanti follows, panting, respectfully squeezing himself as far away from me as possible, while my men pile into the front and the trailing cars.
The doors shut, and the entourage rolls out in formation, before we merge onto the parkway heading back toward the city.
I watch the passing streets through the tinted window—rows of brick row houses giving way to taller buildings. The silence stretches for a long moment before I speak without looking at him, my voice low and even.
“What did you say to Viola?”
He looks at me nervously. “I was just giving my condolences, Don Santori. That’s all.”
“Is that all you did?” I ask, turning my head to watch him.
The moment my gaze lands on him, the man starts to shake visibly, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
He stutters, “W-well, it’s unfortunate, really.
I mean… unfortunate for her, not the Don.
He didn’t leave her anything at all. She’s just supposed to go back to her father’s house the same way she came.
So, I had to deliver that news. And of course… give her some options on a way out.”
My jaw tightens. “And what were these options?”
I can tell he wasn’t expecting me to press.
His face pales, and he stutters, words tumbling over each other, but eventually he gets them out.
“I… I…Well, I offered to take care of her. So that I could still keep an eye on her. You know, in case, in case… someone tries to exploit her for information.”
“And what information would she have?” I ask, my tone deceptively calm even as fury begins to burn like acid in my gut. “Everyone knows her relationship with Salvatore was… cold.”
“Right,” he replies. “Well, you never know. And you can never be too careful.”
I’m seething, my blood hot under my skin, and my fists clenched on my thighs. Holding his stare, I let the silence stretch until it’s menacing enough to choke on. “You’d do well to remember that as well.”
The threat lands exactly as I intend. Bonafanti’s Adam’s apple bobs, and he nods jerkily, shrinking back against the seat, but I can’t stand the sight of him anymore. The smug entitlement, the way he thought he could slither into her life. I tell the driver to pull over.
Without turning to look at Bonafanti, I say flatly, “You can find your own way to the house, right?”
It’s not a question.
“Of course, of course, Don Santori,” he mutters as he scrambles out, nearly tripping over the curb in his haste. Before the door is even fully shut, the driver zooms off again, the engine growling as we leave him standing there on the sidewalk, rumpled and flushed.
Offered to help, my ass. Looks like the propositions are already coming thick and fast. These men are like sharks smelling blood in the water.
She’s not some widowed matron that will fade into the background.
No, she is easily the most beautiful woman any of them have ever set eyes on.
A cool blonde with cat-like green eyes that could bring a man to his knees.
Fuck them all.
I can’t afford to be passive now, but I know if I approach her directly that could force her to recoil.
No. For now, while she’s not in danger—unless one of these wolves gets too close—it’s best if I keep my distance.
Only offer help if and when she asks. The idea of letting any of them approach her kills me, and every instinct I have is screaming for me to claim her.
But I know if I’m too forward right now I’ll frighten her off.
She’s like a nervous deer. She can’t trust anyone, much less the new boss who’s never spoken a single word to her and has more or less pretended as if she didn’t exist all these years.
I sit back against the leather, staring out at the passing city, and force myself to calm down. I will get her. By hook or by crook, she will be mine.