Page 16 of Till Death Do Us Part

Mia’s reaction was different. That’s probably why it stood out.

The morning at the pool, the Mafia princess scannedPadre, Reinaldo, and me like she’d stepped on better things. When I learned she was married to that asshole Rocco, I felt sorry for her. She was supposed to be a princess, and if I was going to go with fairy-tale analogies, she’d ended up with a frog.

The night Dario took Rocco’s life, many of us shared the satisfaction of watching him suffer. It had been Dario to do the honors of killing the rat. I remembered thinking—after Dario and Dante’s interrogation as Rocco bled out in that basement—now it’s your turn, motherfucker.

Bleed.

ChapterFour

Mia

Mother put as much effort into the sham of an engagement party as she had for Dario’s wedding. It was the news of the baby. No matter how she felt about the cartel entering her home, she would play the gracious host to keep Catalina happy. Mom wanted to be involved in the baby’s life. If she had to grovel and cater to the cartel to do it, then so be it.

I didn’t feel the same.

Not about the baby. I’d make a kick-ass aunt. I didn’t feel the same about catering to the cartel.

When the evening of my engagement drew near, I was contemplating any and all possible means for disruption. Maybe if I caused enough of a scene, Aléjandro would change his mind and decide I wasn’t worth the trouble.

The roadblock to my plan was being held in place by both my mother and brother. After allowing me to verbalize my displeasure, Dario made it clear that I would proceed with his plans, reminding me of my duty to the famiglia. He even allowed Mother and me to travel into the city, a scandalous thing to do while in mourning, to shop for a nonblack dress for tonight’s dinner.

Now, wearing the sage-green Mac Duggal sheath dress with the beaded floral appliqué, I stood before the mirror in my bedroom. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Mom that this dress was a size larger than what I’d worn during Dario’s wedding. Despite having all the exercise machines that money could buy in the workout room on the lower level, I’d let my solitude, mixed with freedom of choice, change both my eating and exercise routine. The mountains weren’t a conducive place to hike in below-freezing temperatures with snow and sleet falling.

Now that spring had arrived in the Ozarks, I knew my schedule should change. Truth was, I hoped the extra pounds and curves would be another reason why Aléjandro may change his mind.

Nevertheless, my plan for disobedience didn’t come in the form of my attire. I was ecstatic to not be wearing black.

The thigh-high nylons added shape and a silky appearance to my legs. The dress had an open seam in the back that would show the tops of my hose. I’d also opted for a pair of Louboutin blush pointed-toe pumps with a four-inch heel. Rocco didn’t want me wearing too high a heel due to his height. If my memory served me well, even with the added heels, I wouldn’t come close to Aléjandro’s height. My hair was pulled back on the sides and curled to hang down my back.

As I was about to leave the bedroom, I remembered my wedding rings.

Why am I still wearing them?

I wasn’t sure of the answer. Habit maybe. I sure as hell wasn’t still wearing them out of some sentimental attachment. Looking down at the set, I wondered what I would do with them. Maybe I could pawn them. It could be Rocco’s final gift, some cash in my pocket that didn’t come from the famiglia or cartel.

Sliding the pair of rings off the fourth finger of my left hand, I stared at the setting. I always assumed that Rocco’s mother had a hand in choosing the rings. It seemed like the only engagement ring I’d ever have a say in would be that of a son’s if children were in my future.

Leaving the rings on my dresser, I headed toward the staircase. Dante, Dario, and Catalina were already present. Not only had I heard their arrival, but Catalina’s bodyguard was again stationed near the front door. As I turned the corner into the front parlor, I chose to try my plan.

Four sets of eyes turned my way.

Dario and Dante were holding crystal tumblers with bourbon, and Mom had a glass of prosecco. Catalina’s hands were empty.

Unlike the night of Dario’s announcement, tonight I was greeted with approving expressions. If I could surmise my stoic brother’s millisecond of expression, he was even relieved I’d not chosen my attire as a means of rebellion.

“Mia,” Dante said, coming toward me and kissing my cheek. His infectious smile curled as his dark eyes shone. “I’m pleased to be the one brother you don’t hate.”

My gaze quickly went to Dario and back to Dante. “Don’t be so sure. I doubt you went to the mat for me on this.”

“Oh, but I did.” He motioned toward Catalina. “She had to pull us apart. We were wrestling in the penthouse living room. It was awful.”

Catalina’s smile and the slight shake of her head told me what I already knew—Dante was full of shit. I rarely thought about the fact that he was also a stone-cold killer like Dario. Their personalities couldn’t be further from one another.

“I tell you what,” I said, looking at Dante. “If you unsheathe one of the knives you’re currently wearing and take Aléjandro out, I might decide not to hate you.”

“I’m sure she’s joking,” Dario said.

“Don’t be so confident.” I looked around for the bottle of prosecco.

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