Chapter 19 Caterina
Caterina
“What happened to Alessio’s mother?” I ask as I’m dressing for bed several hours after our tense dinner.
Half the tissues and all the ice cream he left earlier are gone so I snuggle Mr. Whiskers tightly as Frankie tries on one of my sexier dresses.
“I know you weren’t alive then but I thought maybe… ”
“A benefit of being the disgraced family member everyone would prefer to forget exists is you hear the best gossip sometimes.”
“I’m sorry they treat you that way. It wasn’t your fault, Frankie.”
“I know. But, it wasn’t my brother’s fault either and they made him disappear.”
“Disappear?” I gulp. “You mean…”
“After my father’s disgrace was known, the three heads of the Trio got together to decide his son’s fate.”
“The Tribunal?” As a woman I’m not a part of those things, but I’ve heard of it, a so-called mafia court where the three heads of the Trio pass judgment for the most grievous crimes. “They placed your brother on trial for his father’s sins?”
“Yes. My uncles weren’t permitted to be part of it since he was their blood, but I’m sure they would’ve voted for his death regardless.”
“And, that’s what happened?”
“I don’t know. No one speaks to me of it, but he’s been missing for three years now. Where else would Ronan have gone?”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
Her eyes sparkle brightly with unshed tears before she turns away. “I feel sorry for my poor mother. The disgrace was hard enough to bear without losing her son. She’s never been the same.” She keeps facing the mirror, fighting to sound unaffected when she asks, “Could I borrow this for New York?”
“If you wish.”
“Thanks. As for Alessio’s mother… I’m not sure you want to hear this, Cat.”
“What do you mean?”
“I overheard Enzo telling Rocco about it once. Apparently, Alessio’s mother betrayed the Trio when Alessio was only two.”
“She was labeled a traitor?” Good God, there would’ve been no hope for her.
“Yes. And, worse than that, Uncle Silvio didn’t have her killed outright. He made Stefania pay a debt first though I’m not sure what Uncle Enzo meant by that. Whatever it was must’ve been bad though because I heard Aunt Bibi once mention that she died when Alessio was nine.”
“Nine? But his father had already married Bibi and had Gia by the time Alessio was three, I thought.”
“Yes but it’s not like the normal rules apply around here, is it? I feel bad for Aunt Bibi tonight even if she’s a bitch. The knife was just a warning. She’ll pay her own sort of debt to my uncle tonight for their daughter’s disobedience.”
"Is that common? Silvio mistreating his wife? Does he mistreat Valdo or the girls often?"
"Aunt Bibi, yes, but she acts like everything is perfect. Valdo and the girls, occasionally. Mostly because Alessio always stands between them if he can, and Silvio doesn't beat him anymore."
The 'but he did' goes unsaid. Alessio isn't affectionate with Gia or Sofia the way my brothers are, but just as my brothers tried to protect me from our father's discipline, it sounds as though Alessio does the same.
I hug Mr. Whiskers tighter, so Frankie turns the talk to other things, lifting my spirits.
All the same, I can’t help wondering where Alessio is tonight and where he will sleep.
I’m tired of this distance. Our marriage may be a match made in hell but it has zero chance of becoming anything better this way.
As if I’ve summoned him with my thoughts, the door crashes open a second later causing both Frankie and I to jump. “My darling wife,” Alessio drawls with Armando by his side.
“Go to your room, Francesca,” Armando clips, pushing Alessio toward the bed and taking a protesting Frankie by the hand. “He’s being stubborn as usual, Caterina. For better or worse, you’re his wife so you’d best take care of him,” my bodyguard says, tugging Frankie along in his wake.
What the hell has happened? I see what a moment later as Alessio gingerly removes his jacket. “You’re bleeding!”
“Bullets can do that to a body.” His voice is slurred.
“You’ve been shot?!” I cry in dismay.
“Give this girl an award. She almost sounds concerned.”
“Alessio!”
“It’s nothing, just a scratch,” he mumbles, poking at his side with a bloody finger.
“Don’t do that!”
He tilts his head and squints up at me. “Why not? What would you have me do?”
“I don’t know,” I say, throwing up my hands and struggling to recall anything I’ve ever learned about first aid. “We should clean it. And, your hands should be clean before you touch the area.”
He chuckles, grabbing my hand and tugging me down onto the bed beside him. “You’ll have to do it then. My hands will never be clean, kitten.”
Whoa. I felt those words in far too many unmentionable ways considering the circumstances. As I try to sit up, a familiar scent reaches my nostrils with our close proximity. “Are you drunk?”
“Me, drunk? Nah, just a little preliminary pain killer. Fuck…”
His stifled wince from his continued poking at the wound jolts me into action. “That’s it. You will listen to me and stop doing that. Take your shirt off.”
“Knew you liked seeing me naked.”
“Yes, I do. I mean, no, I don’t! Oh, you should shut up!” He laughs and then grasps his side with a grunt. “Do you have anything I can treat you with here?” He smirks at me, making a point of keeping his lips pressed together. “You can answer that, you fool!”
“In the bathroom, bottom drawer beside the sink.”
I hurry to retrieve the first aid kit, panicking a bit. You are stronger than you know, Caterina. I can take care of him. I will take care of him.
When I find the drawer he told me of, I’m not surprised to find a small handgun inside. First aid kit stored with a weapon? Par for the course in this household.
Leaving the gun, I dump the kit on the bed and wait for Alessio to give me instructions. I help him remove his shirt. The wound looks bad to me but he seems unconcerned. Given the various scars that already cover his body, I’ll have to trust that he knows what he’s talking about.
We clean the wound and disinfect it and then I watch in horror as he stitches himself up with no local anesthetic at all. “I don’t see how you can stand to do that.”
“Lots of practice,” he murmurs, finishing. “Pour me another drink.” I’m not sure it’s the best treatment but probably the only one he’ll accept. I go to the small liquor cabinet beside the dresser and pour him a thimbleful of whiskey. “More than that,” he says from the bed.
“How do you know how much I poured?” He’s already laying down and not even looking my way.
“I can hear well enough to know that wasn’t enough.” I roll my eyes and pour another splash before bringing it over.
“Maybe you should sip it slowly.” He slants me with a look as he sits up and downs it in one swallow. I suppose I should’ve expected that.
When he collapses back onto the bed, I find myself unable to resist lying down beside him.
Maybe I should be reluctant to be close to him, but all my caregiver instincts are activated with my concern for him.
“What happened tonight?” I ask, tentatively.
My father and even my brothers kept business out of our discussions, but I hope Alessio won’t be so guarded with me.
“Tonight, the Trio got revenge on the Bratva for what happened at our wedding.”
“Tonight? But, you didn’t say anything at dinner.” He chuckles, amused by my ignorance. I clear my throat and attempt to regain my composure. “So you got your revenge less than a week after it happened. That’s very quick.”
“As it should be. Revenge is a dish best served cold, my ass. We made the fuckers bleed, wiped out every asshole at two drug labs and their favorite little clubhouse near the Strip before we were done. Whoever’s left will be cleaning up the mess for months after tonight.”
I nod as if I share his bloodlust. I knew they’d go after the Bratva.
It’s a never-ending, escalating cycle of violence between the two.
I hate it but there was no way such an act would go unanswered.
Without a second thought, I reach up to gently trail my fingers through his thick brown hair.
It’s surprisingly soft for such a hard man.
“I wish you’d told me your plans for tonight. You were shot. You might’ve died.”
“Mmm, no one has made a widow of you yet.”
“I don’t want to be a widow.”
He was already still but he somehow grows even more so. “Is this another display of your acting abilities?”
“No, I meant that, Alessio. I don’t wish you dead. Even if you occasionally make me lose my mind.”
His beautiful blue eyes are heavy, but he’s staring intently at me when I tilt my head again to check on him. “I’m tired of sleeping on Armando’s sofa, Caterina.”
Such a simple statement and hardly the apology or explanation regarding the Seconda some wives might expect.
But I did hold a knife to his throat, and I want my marriage to have a chance of being at least tolerable.
Maybe much more than tolerable. “Sleep here tonight. If the urge to smash my teeth in has finally passed.”
He smiles wryly as I pull the covers back, silently urging him to climb in. “I wouldn’t have done that.”
With the lights turned off, I leave Mr. Whiskers on my bedside table and turn toward my husband instead.
I don’t know if he would ever dream of holding me.
With his wound perhaps it’s better that he doesn’t.
But an instant later, he wraps his arm around my shoulders, tugging me closer.
How can that feel so nice? “You smell good. Your hair is like silk.”
His words are garbled from drink, discomfort, and fatigue, but it doesn’t matter to my heart. My heart would ask so very little of him and give so much in return. It’s simply the way I’m made.
“I’m glad you approve,” I say, lightly stroking his bare chest. Muscled, scarred, tough as nails. So very different from my own skin but I admire every inch of him. “Though I am thinking of getting bangs again like when I was sixteen.”
“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts like a motherfucker if I laugh.”
I smile in the darkness, happier than I could’ve pictured being from this quiet exchange. I don’t love him yet, and I know he doesn’t love me but… maybe Mother wasn’t completely wrong about what might develop over time?
“Alessio, do you remember what we did the morning after our wedding before my period arrived?”
“You ask that as if it was in the distant past, Caterina. Of course, I do.”
“What if I wanted to do more of that? Not tonight obviously because I know you’re injured but what if, once you’re better, we-”
He moves so swiftly I yelp as he pins me to the mattress with a wolf’s grin on his handsome face. “Fuck my injury. I was beginning to fear you’d never ask.”