Chapter 21 #2
Cristiano is standing on the far side of the street, staring at the house.
It’s hard to make out his features in the gathering dark, but I can see the bloodstain over his stomach and at his shoulder.
He’s holding himself stiffly as though he’s in pain and his fists are clenched, but his eyes are fixed on the house with laser focus.
Our eyes meet through the window.
I gasp and step back, yanking the curtains closed. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“Mina?”
I turn.
Sofia Vici stands in the doorway. She’s in her forties, elegant and beautiful, with dark hair and kind eyes. She was gentle with Leon when we arrived. Maternal and warm in a way that reminded me of my own mother.
She places a stack of clothes onto the chair in the corner of the room. “These are for you from Adora, and I borrowed a few things for Leon from my cousin’s daughter. She has a son Leon’s age.”
“Thank you,” I say hoarsely.
When her eyes land on Leon, they are full of sympathy. “How are you and the little one holding up?”
Wordlessly, I point at the window. Sofia frowns and crosses to where I stand, and twitches the curtain aside. Cristiano is still standing there. From this distance, I can see his chest rising and falling sharply, as if breathing is painful.
“So the Lucanias managed to injure him,” Sofia observes. “I doubt that will be enough punishment for Rafiel Lucania, but he’s a fool if he tries this again.”
Her maternal manner has evaporated. Her eyes are suddenly shrewd and knowing.
“Punishment for what? I don’t understand what’s happening. Cristiano didn’t leave the house for weeks and weeks, but then suddenly there were four armed men in the garden, and Cristiano killed them. I ran away from him to protect Leon, but now he’s out there. Nowhere’s safe.”
My voice cracks, and I press my fist to my mouth, trying to hold back the sobs.
I wait for her to react. To be horrified. To tell me I did the right thing by running and validate the terror that’s eating me alive.
She just looks at Cristiano for a long moment, then lets the curtain fall. “Was one of the men Silas Cross?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice rising. The name means nothing to me. “I don’t know who the men were. I thought we’d be safe in that house. Cristiano just killed them and didn’t even care.”
“I doubt Cross was involved,” Sofia says, more to herself rather than to me. “This stunt has all the hallmarks of an angry young man. Don Gabriel won’t have sanctioned this.”
Don Gabriel? Another don? Just how many mafia heads are there in Malus?
Sofia turns to face me. Her expression is calm and sympathetic.
But not shocked.
Something cold slides down my spine.
“You’re not surprised by any of this,” I say slowly. “Why aren’t you surprised?”
“Mina, I understand that you’re upset. That must have been a terrible thing for you to see.”
A terrible thing for me to see. Not a terrible thing to happen.
“Of course I’m upset! This is not normal.”
She eyes me curiously, as though wondering how much I know about the man I love. “There is little that is normal about our families.”
Our families. I accepted Adora’s offer thinking it would be safer for Leon, without considering who she is or what kind of man she married.
“What kind of people are you? What kind of family is this?”
“We’re the kind of family who understands that sometimes violence is necessary to protect the people we love.”
“Protect?” I echo. “Cristiano locked me in a wardrobe when I was fourteen because he couldn’t stand the thought of me leaving.
He tied me up with his belt. He follows me everywhere.
He frightens me again and again, and I keep going back to him.
I keep falling in love with him over and over even though I know he’s dangerous. ”
I look toward the closed curtains, my whole body shaking.
“One day he’ll scare Leon,” I whisper. “One day it won’t be me he hurts, but our son, and it will break me. I can’t keep doing this.”
Sofia is quiet for a long moment. Then she moves to the window again, twitching the curtain aside to look at Cristiano standing in the street below.
Her eyes turn cold.
“When my nephew Vincenzo was terrorizing his bride-to-be, I told him that I would not stand for it. There’s a simple solution for dangerous men who hurt women and children.
Speak to Vincenzo if you wish to accept the offer of Vici family services.
While you are under our protection, they won’t cost you a cent. ”
The words hang ominously in the air.
Then she lets the curtain fall and turns to me, that maternal smile warming her face once more. “Come downstairs for dinner if you feel up for it, otherwise, I’ll send up a tray for you and the little one. Anything you need, anything at all, just ask.”
And with that, she turns and walks out of the room.
I stand there, frozen, my stomach churning. What did she mean? What kind of solution?
I look at Leon sleeping peacefully in the bed, his small chest rising and falling. I fled one killer to find safety with another family, and now I’m wondering if they’re any safer. If anywhere is safe.
I climb into bed beside Leon, pulling him close, breathing in his scent.
My mind won’t stop racing. When I close my eyes, I see Cristiano standing in the street. Blood dripping on white roses. I see Sofia’s cold eyes and replay her ominous words.
I love Cristiano.
I’m terrified of him.
And I don’t know which feeling will win.
I wake in the morning to a soft knock on the door.
For a moment I’m disoriented, unsure where I am. Then it all comes rushing back. The bodies in the garden. Cristiano’s cold eyes. Running. Sofia’s ominous words.
I check my son immediately. Leon is still asleep beside me, his breathing soft and even.
The knock comes again, gentle but persistent.
I slip out of bed carefully so as not to wake Leon and open the door a crack.
A young man stands in the hallway, mid-twenties, with an easy smile and warm brown eyes. He’s handsome in a boyish way, his dark hair slightly mussed, and he’s holding two cups of coffee.
“Morning!” His voice is cheerful and pitched low so as not to wake Leon. “You must be Mina. I’m Matteo. Vincenzo’s cousin.”
He offers me one of the coffee cups like we’re old friends.
I take it automatically, too surprised to refuse. “Thank you.”
“Cream and sugar, right? Adora told me.” He leans against the doorframe, still smiling. “I wanted to introduce myself and let you know you’re safe here. No man is getting to you while you’re under this roof. Not your fiancé and definitely not his enemies.”
The casual way he says it, like he’s discussing the weather, throws me off-balance.
“Cristiano is not my fiancé.”
“Ah. My mistake.” Matteo doesn’t seem bothered by the correction. “Either way, you’ve got nothing to worry about. There are Vici soldiers on every floor of this house. Ma says no one’s going to touch you and the boy while you’re here, and what Ma says goes.”
Ma must be Sofia. I glance toward the closed window, and my stomach sinks. Cristiano must still be out there. I can feel him somehow, a weight pressing on my heart.
I glance toward the window. “How does Cristiano look this morning?”
Matteo considers this. “Like he’s been in a fight. Adora went out and told him to go to a doctor, but he refuses. Says he’s not going anywhere while you and your son are here.”
I appreciate Adora trying. As much as I’m afraid of Cristiano, those injuries on top of him being post-op make me worried for him.
“No one on this street has called an ambulance for the man bleeding on the sidewalk?” I ask.
Matteo laughs. “For the bleeding man outside Don Vincenzo’s house? No one around here is going to interfere in Vici business.”
I almost wish they would.
“Thank you,” I manage. “I’ll try not to overstay my welcome.”
“Overstay?” Matteo laughs, warm and genuine. “You’re welcome here as long as you want. Adora and my cuz have already decided. That little boy needs to rest and get strong, and you need somewhere safe to do that. So stay. A week, a month, however long it takes.”
He pushes off from the doorframe, ready to go, but something makes me call after him.
“Matteo?”
He turns back, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
“What kind of business is the Vici family in?”
I expect him to deflect or lie or tell me it’s none of my concern.
Instead, his smile widens. “We’re assassins.”
He says it cheerfully, as though he’s confiding that they’re all bank managers.
“You and…and Mr. Vici?”
“You mean Don Vincenzo. Yes him, and all the rest. While they were still alive, anyway. Most of the family got wiped out a few months back, God rest their souls. Your fiancé’s father’s handiwork. But he didn’t get all of us,” he adds proudly. “Ma can gut a man seven different ways.”
He says it the way someone might brag about their mother’s cooking. I’m reeling from all the information Matteo has just given me. Don Agnello killed members of the Vici family? And Don Vincenzo still married his daughter?
“That’s…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
“Impressive?” Matteo supplies helpfully. “Yeah, Ma’s something else. Anyway, you need anything, just holler.”
He gives me a little wave and heads down the corridor, whistling softly.
I close the door and lean against it, my coffee cup warm in my hands.
Assassins.
They’re all assassins.
I grew up in Don Agnello’s mansion. I lived there for years, watching men in expensive suits come and go, seeing the fear in people’s eyes when they spoke to him, hearing whispered conversations cut short when I entered a room, but Mom made sure I kept my face turned away from all of it.
It was none of my business what kind of business the Montonis were in. I was just the housekeeper’s daughter.
Cristiano tried to tell me once, when I was thirteen or so. He spoke about his father’s work and what it meant to be a Montoni, but when he saw the fear on my face, he quickly changed the subject.