Page 20 of Caesar DeLuca
“It’s not your name on your license. Or your birth certificate.”
“So?”
“So, it’s not your government name. I told you mine. Tell me yours.”
She draws another card, her expression neutral. “We never said government names.”
“That’s a technicality.”
“What’s your rank in the DeLuca organization?” Her tone sharpens, her brown eyes flicking up to mine. “If we’re going to play rummy, twenty questions version, tell me your rank.”
“Easy. Capo. Your turn.”
She purses her lips, then begrudgingly mutters, “Ariana. Ari for short.”
I draw a card and assess my hand. “Why do you live alone, Ariana?”
“Isn’t it my turn for a question?”
“Where are my manners? Go right ahead.” I aim a slight grin at her, amused by how increasingly frustrated she’s becoming. Who would’ve thought this would be so much fun?
“Why did Carisi stab you?”
“Careful, Ariana. If I told you the whole truth, you’d be swimming with the fishes. Business is business. No outsiders get to know the specifics,” I explain. I discard into the pile. “But what I can tell you is that the rivalry between the DeLucas and the Carisis has been escalating for years. It dates back to an old feud involving assassinations and betrayals. I inherited the mess.”
“So your family’s beef is your beef?”
“That’s one way to put it. My turn—why do you live alone out here, away from civilization?”
Ariana thinks on her answer for a second longer. “Because I like my peace.”
I’m not sure what answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. It takes me by surprise, a rarity considering I’m normally somebody who analyzes people and situations and comes up with every possible outcome.
Ariana is an enigma. The more layers she sheds, the more I’m drawn to her.
We play another round in uncertain silence as she forms a meld and wins.
“What did you mean last night?” she asks suddenly. The animosity and frustration have evaporated from her tone. Curiosity’s softened the sound of her voice. “What you said about marriage. Were you being serious or were you messing with my head?”
“I was serious. Everything I said I meant. A woman like you should be married.”
“I can take care of myself?—”
“I’m sure you can… to a point. You’re capable and smart. You’ve made it this long on your own.”
“But?”
“But,” I continue, “it’s a cold, cruel world out there. With lots of bad people in it.”
“Like yourself?”
“Yes. I’m a bad man. But I’m a bad man with a code. I only do bad things when situations dictate that I do. And I don’t hurt innocents if I can help it. I don’t hurt women, children, the elderly.” I pause long enough with my hand of cards to grill her with a hard stare. “The people I’m talking about, Ariana, are not like me. A bad man with a code. They’re bad people without one. People who would love to take advantage of a woman like you.”
“I’ve lived here for almost three years. I’ve been fine.”
“You shouldn’t have taken me in,” I admit. “It was a mistake.”
She frowns. “Are you saying… you can’t be saying…”
