Lex put me to bed last night, but never stayed.
I’m annoyed but given what happened last night, I can’t expect him to remain. He has a business to run and I have a life to make sense of.
This morning, I had a new phone sitting beside my side of the bed, already programed with all my numbers. I noticed Danica’s wasn’t listed and although it’s been a week since we spoke, to be completely silent is unlike her.
I should have heard from her by now. There would have been a text about a party, or asking to borrow a few bracelets for a date. Something to show me she was alive, but it’s quiet.
I don’t want to believe Lex would kill her to keep me away, but I saw what happened on the ship. Lex told me my safety comes before everything else. Eliminating Danica, getting rid of the drugs and bad decisions, would certainly fall under that promise.
Now, my gut starts to churn with worry. Gone is the Sloane who didn’t care about others, now I’m worried I might have gotten Danica killed.
I don’t worry about the captain. He made his choice when he pulled a gun on the future capo and then tried to shoot me.
Lex did that to save me. The captain would have shot me, whether it was to keep secrets or to push Lex, he was willing to take me out to serve his purposes. Lex was just doing what he promised—keep me safe.
Sitting at the counter of the chef’s kitchen, I watch Maria flint from the sink, to the stove and back, tapping my phone waiting for a text. We’ve already had breakfast, but the woman never stops moving. She’s either cooking something, preparing something, or cleaning up from something she just made.
The grey in her hair turns silver under the morning light. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen: elegant in age, thin but curvy. Her shoulders curve slightly with arthritis, but she moves quicker than I do.
The golden dress she wears, although expensive, is simple. Clean lines, high neck. She could give a master class on looking good in your golden years.
She hurries over to me, refilling my half empty mug of coffee. “Drink,” she urges, patting my cheek. Her accent is lighter than Lex’s, but she rolls her r’s. “It’ll help settle the mind.”
“How did you know about my thoughts?”
After Lex and I settled things, Maria and Nico have been more open in communicating with me. It’s a relief, honestly. Living with my father, it was always hushed whispers and stoic faces or loud fights with hard-hitting hands. I need communication, I need energy and laughter.
Finally I have that, with Maria doting on me like a true mother hen.
She gives me a look. One that a mother has perfected over the lifetime of childrearing. “Come now, piccola. I’m old, not deaf. I know what happened last night.”
I sip from the strong coffee, letting the bitterness soak into my tongue. “It was a long night.”
“You went to the docks.” It’s not a question.
I nod, softly, twisting my hands into the demure sky-blue dress. With capped sleeve and hem below my knee, I look ready to start in a law office. “I did.”
I won’t apologize for going there, for witnessing the operation in action. I wanted to know. I needed to understand the world I was born into, my husband’s world and, now, my family’s world.
Lex isn’t my father. He wanted an equal, not a pretty wife that lived in an ivory tower, meant to be alone and locked away.
She waggles her finger like I’ve said something naughty. “Ah, ah. First rule of marrying a man in the De Luca family? Never know about the business.”
“But I want to know.”
“No, you don’t.” She plops her body onto the kitchen stool, pouring a generous helping of coffee for herself. She places one sugar cube into the mixture and stirs silently. “Sure, you want to know about it. Understand why we do it. It’s natural. Society says we’re not supposed to make money off the suffering of others.” She shrugs, waving into the air. “Society also says we need money to survive. This is business. But no one truly wants to know about it.”
Licking my lips, I digest her words. “And if I do?” I raise an eyebrow, daring her to correct me.
She looks at me over the edge of her cup, deep brown eyes a shade darker than my husband’s but they’re familiar. Knowing.
“Then you’re a braver woman than I took you for, piccola.”
I smile despite myself, fighting to keep it away at her praise. It’s been hard to feel accepted in this home, hard to feel close to Maria. I feel like now, maybe, there can be progress.
“How do you handle this?” I gesture to the home and the counter, filled yet again with steaming food. “How do I handle what they do, who they are, what we are?” I ask, gesturing to her outfit, as if I’m going to be in her shoes. The future Capo’s wife.
I won’t pretend to know what that means. What responsibilities I’ll have. Nico is the face and might of the organization, but Maria is the glue, the heart that keeps everyone together like a family. Could I do that too?
Smiling softly, the wrinkled age of laugh lines forms in her cheeks. “It’s not easy, darling. In fact, in those early days, I didn’t think I would survive.” She runs her tongue over her teeth, sighing deeply. “But love is how you handle this. Do you love my nephew?”
I snort. “I think you’re overstepping boundaries, Maria.”
She waves me off. “In this family, there are no boundaries. Do you love him?”
I refuse to answer, staring at her in silence. I might have just admitted it to myself, but I would not be spilling my secrets to the queen of this family.
A slow smile spreads across her face. “Ah. I see. Well…” She picks up a butter cookie, taking a delicate bite over her cup. A few crumbs fall into the coffee. “You’ll figure it out. You’ll handle it. Unlike in some organizations, women are treated like property. Here, the De Luca men treat their women like equals. You’ll never do anything alone as long as you’re a De Luca.”
She finished the cookies, dusting her hands off. “Did he kill a man in front of you?”
I swallow uneasily. “Yes.”
Zia’s coppery brown eyes darken, her mouth pulling into a deep frown. “Ah. Bene. And you’re still here.” She retreats, moving to stand. “A man will only kill for three things: to protect his business, to protect his life, or to protect his love. Guess which one you fall into, piccola?”
“You know Lex loves me?”
Maria gives me a telling look. “Sloane, I’ve seen that man flirt, date, swoon over women before. I’ve never seen him so angry like he was when he brought you in here, after your ordeal. I’ve never seen him so angry, that someone should wish to harm what is his. Lex is many things. But he only shows those emotions, only breaks that control, with those he truly cares about.”
She goes to the sink, washing her small mug. I’ve barely sipped from mine.
Turning back to me, Maria wipes her hand on a dishrag. “The De Luca men love with their whole being. They are fiercely loyal, downright overbearing. But they love with their soul.” She clamps a fist to her chest and knocks once. “And when you are the one they love, you learn to accept that love and give it back.
“Without it, you will perish under the weight. If you can return that love, that fierceness, nothing will ever truly hurt you.” She taps the counter. “And I think you know that.”
I don’t correct her, because I do. I’ve seen it in action.
Nico enters, cane thumping on the tile before I see him. Even if he’s not meant to be out in the world, he’s dressed in a pressed black suit and stark white dress shirt. Even his shoes are polished.
“Good morning,” he greets, kissing my cheek, then his wife’s. She gives him a beatific grin in return. “What are we discussing?”
“Nothing. What did you want?”
“Ah.” He slaps the counter in earnest. “Well, I have a predicament. You like fashion, no?”
“Like is an understatement.” I gulp my coffee, Maria’s words echoing in my ears.
I know Lex’s love because it’s the same inside my chest, wrestling to be let loose. If only I was brave enough, strong enough to let it out, let it cement this marriage.
“What did you have in mind?”
Nico grins at me. “I have need for your expertise for an upcoming charity auction I’m hosting.”
At my confusion, Nico sighs. “Listen, little one, we might not be the most law-abiding citizens, but we do give back. To homeless shelters, domestic abuse victims. It assuages the guilt, no?”
“And gives us the tax write-offs,” Maria quips, rubbing her fingers together. Nico hushes her though a smile lights his face.
I can’t help but laugh at their antics. They know what they do is wrong and understand the consequences but still. It’s their life. They’re doing the best with what they have.
It’s more than my father did. I don’t think he ever donated to charity.
“Okay, I’m intrigued. What is this year’s charity and how are you helping?”
“It’s for the local hospital. They’re looking to build a new wing for cancer patients. I said we’d raise the money and donate all proceeds to them.”
Immediately, I know I’ll do whatever to help them. “I’d be happy to help. The cause is dear to me.” It’s the same hospital that saved Collins.
I was only eight when Collins was diagnosed. She had been losing her balance, unable to walk or stand for long. She fell a few times, hitting her head. Finally, when she wouldn’t get out of bed, Maeve forced Pops to take her to the hospital.
Receiving her cancer diagnosis was the one moment in my life where everything stands out in sharp detail. I remember the smell of antiseptic, the feel of the cotton dress under my palms sitting next to Collins’ bed, the way Pops’ ruddy cheeks went white in panic. How Maeve slammed her fist into the x-ray machine and the sound of the broken glass as it shattered on to the floor. Briar stood in the corner, face devoid of emotions, silent.
Collins, the mediator, calmed all of us down, patiently telling us she would be alright. When her health was failing, her first instinct was to take care of us.
I cried for her and she held me, never crying for herself.
“Bene.” Nico claps his hand together. A cough racks his body, and he grabs a nearby paper towel, hacking into it.
It’s splattered red. He hides it before he thinks we can see.
“Now.” He takes the mug of coffee from Maria. “I have a few pieces that are being donated for the auction. Vintage designer dresses. All very beautiful. All very expensive. I’ll need someone with a keen eye for detail and understanding of their importance to set a price. It’s to help us get the right starting bids in place, yea?”
Hopping from the stool, I hold out my arms. “You had me at vintage. Where do I sign up?”
“Come with me to the warehouse. I’ll have you look at the dresses and we’ll start from there.”
The smile I give is nothing short of beaming. “Bene.”
