Page 25 of Nanny to the Mafia

“Problem?”

“My ex-wife has asked for a motion for custody of Cora.”

This was the first time I had heard anything about his ex-wife. Everyone, including Rosa, was tight-lipped about the former Mrs Capizzi. Except for Rosa’s “maledetta donna malvagia,” whatever that meant, I knew nothing more about Cora’s mother. How bad could the woman be? I understood Rosa’s loyalty, but a child needed both parents. I couldn’t imagine my life either without my mum or dad.

“Hmmm, that isn’t too bad, is it? Isn’t shared custody ideal for Cora?” I continued despite his deadly silence. “A child needs both parents. She needs her mother.”

“Cora does not need her mother.” His tight voice held a vein of anger in it. The room filled with sparks of tension till that’s all it held. He moved off his table and walked towards the windows, watching the gardener mowing the lawn outside.

“Her mother doesn’t even want to be a mother. She dumped her off in a laundromat for fuck’s sake.”

“Wait. What?”

Shit.

I remembered that story. It had been on the news but just as suddenly been taken off the media with no mention of any names. That was Cora? The security cameras had caught a woman smuggling in a baby inside one of the washers. Shortly after, a man came in and picked her up. One minute, the images were available to be released to the police, and the next, they weren’t. Both the images and the baby were nowhere to be found.

He turned towards me with cold eyes. The warm swirl that I found in his eyes was nowhere in sight. “My ex-wife loves her drugs more than her own flesh and blood. I had some kind of control over her when she was pregnant, but she let go after she gave birth.”

This was a first. There was always a hidden ruthlessness surrounding Antonio, but this coldness sent chills up my bones. An air of manipulation hung around him. He had a plan, and he was going to put it into action no matter what.

I shifted in my chair and gave myself a visible shake. What was the matter with me? I forced myself to mull over the news he had just dropped while he watched me. This was a lot to take in, although something didn’t add up.

“So why does she want to share custody, then?”

“Not share. She wants full custody. To answer your domanda, money. What it always comes down to with anyone. Money.”

“She will never get full custody. Or shared, for that matter. Massachusetts courts will never hand over Cora to a substance user, especially one who abandoned her.”

He looked at me as if he was seeing me for the very first time. What?

“That may very well be, but this case needs to be wrapped up as soon as possible, preferably out of the public eye and out of the courthouse. My father-in-law is a powerful man and a good friend. I cannot discredit his family by exposing his daughter.”

If I’d ever heard a shitload of crap, this would be it. How powerful was his father-in-law? Wasn’t he a powerful man? It was clearly fear that outlined the behaviour of his men towards him. Fear and respect. But fear first.

What kind of man was the father-in-law if even Antonio didn’t want to anger him?

“If he is a good friend, he should talk to his daughter and get her into a rehabilitation program. And get her to drop the case. She should focus on getting help first.”

“Not going to happen,” he said flatly, squaring his shoulders and planting his feet wide.

If it was me, my father would have dragged me kicking and screaming into some kind of program and checked in himself just to keep an eye on me. He had loved me, but he also never had a problem telling me when I was wrong.

“Then what do you want to do? Agree to share custody?”

“Of course not,” he said stonily.

Annoyance tingled in my veins. “You said you have a problem, and I am trying to think of some solutions.” Why was he telling me all of this, anyway? He went from muteness about his ex to clogging my brain with information.

He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his feet. The fabric of his pants pulled tight across his groin and thigh area. “My lawyers have come up with a solution.”

Good. Because I need to get the hell out of here. The tension in here is killing me.

“What do you need me for, then?”

The fabric of his pants pulled tighter.

Stop looking.

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