Page 35 of Princess of the Mafia

“We are.”

“So what happened? Didn’t make it to finishing school or something.”

“No. I decided a man should marry me for who I am, not what I can cook,” I said adamantly.

Another one of those chuckles, and I decided I really did like this cognato.

Stefano was fun. Much more than the asshole I had said yes to. Stefano wasn’t arrogant, angry, or annoying. He was relaxed, charming, and attentive. He also left a trail of forlorn looks behind him wherever we went. The perfect gentleman. It was a facade. I knew that. He was anything but a gentleman. He had helped or stood by when my asshole of a husband murdered Aldo. I picked up that morose memory and locked it in my dark chest, together with all the others weighing heavy.

He was, of course, a made man. He had planned to take me around in a stupido elicottero! As if we needed to see a city in a flying machine when we could perfectly well walk around and absorb the vibe. So he relented. Something I could have never seen his brother doing. I couldn’t even imagine him coming out with me. Don’t think about him.

So we walked the streets, lined up all straight like Mamma’s checkered tablecloth. I don’t think we had a single straight street in Sicily, but New York was full of them. Straight bike lanes and on every corner, traffic lights, and people in a rat race. We visited Times Square, which was exactly like it was made out to be in the movies, but with more people. No romantic lampposts with couples hanging off them, for sure. It was all glitzy. Not only because of the gigantic billboards but because of the thousand flashes flickering around me. He took me up to the Empire State Building, which was apparently the tallest building in New York. Was. Until the monster where we lived had come up. Of course, he had to live there to pack his big ego in.

We had lunch at some cafe where the coffee would make any good Italian throw a fit, but it was my fault since I wanted to go all-American. The burger was good, though! It was also the first time I’d had an American burger, I told Stefano, to his amusement, as I tried to eat it elegantly while squashed tomatoes and melted cheese dripped along its edges.

I was halfway through my burger, tomato juice dripping off my chin, when a beautiful woman caught his eye. He didn’t show a twitch of emotion, but she must have misunderstood it as a welcome because she walked right up to us.

“Stefano,” she breezed, and even her voice was whimsical. She had gorgeous, long black hair and pale features. She looked like one of those Wall Street type girls shown in the movies, highly sophisticated. She sealed the idea when she gave Stefano air kisses. Blowing into the air next to his cheek. What was the point of that?

“I was passing by when I saw you through the window. Haven’t seen you in a long time.” It sounded slightly accusing. I thought she might be a girlfriend, but he didn’t look so happy to see her.

“Plenty of reasons for that.” His tone was tight, and his words harsh. So maybe an ex-girlfriend.

She ignored him and glanced at me with a smile. Her smile lined wide with cherry red lips. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“This is Daria.”

“Hi, I’m Emily…”

“She’s Lorenzo’s wife.” She paled. Well, I would be shocked, too, if I had to imagine myself with Lorenzo, which is exactly what she was probably doing. But she was smooth and picked herself up fast.

“Are you from around here?” Her voice dripped like sweet candy.

“No, from Sicily.” Her English was all elegant and polished, like she’d studied at some fancy college, while mine was rough at its best and sang in tune to my Sicilian.

“Oh,” she gave Stefano an awkward glance before she glanced at my burger. “I was going to get lunch…” she trailed off.

She kind of reminded me of Orietta. That was probably the vibe I was picking up on, which is exactly why I invited her to sit with us. I ignored Stefano’s glare while she ordered. This was my chance to find an American Luna, a friend outside the Cosa Nostra, and I was grabbing this chance with both my hands.

While she elegantly bit into her hamburger, I ignored my half-eaten one.

“I love your dress.” She wore a sexy tight blue dress that showed off her curves.

“Oh, thank you. You know if you’re new here, you won’t know where to shop. If you would like, we can go together.”

“I’d love that!” I exclaimed to Stefano’s growl.

“Let’s exchange numbers.”

“Oh,” I looked at Stefano with a frown, who was up and looming over me. “I have a new number. I don’t know what it is. Stefano, you must know it?”

“No, and we are leaving Daria,” he said adamantly.

“Never mind, give me your phone. You can ring me on it, and then we have each other’s numbers.” She took my phone and typed in the number, all the while ignoring my annoying cognato’s angry grunts. I liked this Emily. She had guts to stand up to these idiots.

“Time to go.” He physically lifted me up and pulled me out of the cafe.

The moment we were outside, I shook his hand off me angrily. “What’s the matter with you? I was just trying to make friends.”

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