Page 61 of Stolen Sin

“What’s with that, anyway?”

She comes up grinning with a black ankle brace in one hand. “Ah-ha, I knew I had one. I sprained my ankle on the porch steps last year and Mr. Overprotective forced me to wear this for a week. I think you actually need it though.”

I thank her and slip it on as she explains that Davide’s got issues with enclosed spaces and so he tries to keep his home as open as possible. She sits down next to me and puts an arm across my shoulders, which feels really nice because right about now I need a little piece of normalcy. Simon, Davide, and all the other mafia guys I don’t recognize are downstairs talking strategy, and we were banished upstairs.

“How come you’re not freaking out?” I ask her, genuinely curious, because I’m barely holding it together at the moment. A bunch of brutal, scary guys just broke down my front door and tried to kidnap me and my husband, which didn’t feel great, and we had to be rescued by her husband and his posse of armed buddies. Not exactly a normal day so far.

“I know Alessandro,” she says softly, staring over toward the window with a pensive frown. “He’s going through some stuff right now, but he’s a good man. He loves his kids. I don’t think he’d really hurt any of them.”

I chew on that for a second. “But he might hurt me.”

She glances over and says nothing, and that’s all the answer I need. I lean back against the couch and squeeze my eyes shut.

I was the target. Not Simon, but me. Which makes sense, his father doesn’t want me in the picture anymore, so what better way than to shoot me in the head and bury me at the bottom of the lake? Once I’m gone then Simon can marry that other girl and everything can go back to being normal for this family.

“We just need to get through to him,” Stefania says and tightens her grip on me, hugging me against her side. “Seriously, Emily, you have a really skewed idea about that man. When I first came into this family, he was so freaking warm and kind, you wouldn’t even believe he’s the same guy. Then he got shot and he was really struggling, and he just deteriorated from there. I have to believe the old Alessandro is still inside of him, but I don’t know how they’re going to reach that version again.”

It’s an impossible situation. Everyone has this idea of the Don in their heads, but from my perspective, he’s been nothing but a vindictive and angry old bastard who hates his kids and seems to want his Famiglia to burn in hell. I can’t imagine why else he’d try something like this.

“I want you to be honest about something.” I shift my weight so I’m facing her direction. “Should I be worried about my dad right now? Would Alessandro hurt him to get at me? Would he use my dad to make me go away?”

Stefania’s expression screws up and she tugs her arm away, wringing her hands together. “I come from a family like this one,” she says quietly, staring at the floor. “My brothers would’ve done anything for the Famiglia. They would’ve killed anyone, hurt anyone, but I don’t think they would’ve used some old man to get what they wanted. I would’ve said Alessandro wasn’t capable of something so ugly and horrendous, but I don’t know this current Don at all. I’m sorry, Emily. I don’t know if your dad’s in danger or not.”

I try to get to my feet and have to lean against the wall as I shuffle over to the door. Stefania tries weakly to stop me, but I’m guessing she can tell that I’m determined. I limp down the steps, my body ringing with possibilities as my head plays through every single nightmare scenario I can dream up.

My dad shot dead in his home. My dad beaten into a pulp, never to recover. My dad tied up in his own basement and tortured. My dad, who has already been through so fucking much, dragged through even more because of me.

I thought I was protecting him by marrying Simon. I thought taking Simon’s money meant my dad would never have to worry ever again.

Now I can see how stupid I was.

I got myself involved with the mafia. These are dangerous people, and I threw myself into the middle of their politics, thinking it would all work out.

It’s not Simon’s fault. I know he married me with good intentions. Only it didn’t work out the way he had planned and now we’re dealing with the ugly blowback.

I find my husband sitting at a table with the others. Davide’s pacing back and forth gripping a drink in his hand. There are several bottles of whiskey scattered all over the room, and everyone seems like they’re in a terrible mood.

“…and if we hit hard, we can end this today,” Davide’s saying.

But Simon shakes his head. “We’re not escalating things. I’m not going to be the one who takes the first shot.”

“Dad already crossed the line,” Davide growls, gesturing with his drink. Some of the whiskey sloshes over. “You know there’s no going back after today. We set the lines and now the old man knows who’s loyal to whom.”

Simon rubs his face with both hands. “Give me time. Start talking to the Capos and find out how many are really willing to push Dad out.”

“We can’t count on the fucking Capos,” Davide says and starts pacing again. “Fuck the Capos. This is a family issue. We deal with it in the family.”

Simon notices me lurking near the staircase. He gets up, ignoring his brother, as the other soldiers start talking to each other, all of them throwing out ideas, most of which involve lots of guns and killing. My husband comes over and puts an arm around me, taking most of my weight onto him.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. “How’s your ankle?”

“Swollen, but I’ll live.” I touch his cheek. “We have to get out of here. I’m worried about my dad.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Your dad? He’s fine. We already figured that out.”

“No, I mean, I’m worried your dad is going to use my dad to get after me. That’s what today was about, right? Your dad trying to get me out of the picture.” Simon’s expression all but confirms my suspicions. He already knew, or at least he guessed, what was really going on.

My stomach drops as horror rattles through me. A powerful, violent, potentially unhinged mafia Don wants to kill me. That’s not ideal.

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