Page 128 of Diavolo

Her husband seemed to withdraw even more. Elyse probed again, "Alessio?"

A few more seconds ticked by. Elyse's question about Renata had now formed into a theory that she hoped to confirm, "Was she your mother?"

"Sì."

Elyse's heart drummed once, twice, then in heavier and heavier beats as Alessandro's response set off a chain reaction of revelations. Renata was, as suspected, her husband's mother. The woman was dead, and her passing was obviously a sore spot, still, for both her husband and his father. To the point that Vincenzo Vitale had used the grief from his late wife's death to strike at their son.

Her father-in-law was a cruelhijo de puta.

Elyse felt as though she understood Alessandro's suffering deeper now, and she loved him more for it. She moved forward to seal the sorrowful space between her and her husband, sliding both arms around Alessandro's waist to embrace him while nestling her head against his chest. His arms came around her in response, tucking her smaller body to his larger frame in a way that was beginning to feel very much like second nature for the both of them. Her husband had looked so defeated after their visit with his father. He looked so sad about his mother. Elyse wanted to offer him some comfort, a quieter kind than fucking could provide.

"We'll get through this,all of it, together," she murmured.

"You think so?" he asked softly.

A shadow of doubt flickered in his eyes. Elyse assured him, "You and I will find a way to overcome the impossible. I'm not someone who gives up easily. Neither are you. Our enemies can't defeat us as long as we refuse to surrender."

"But I am not my father," he grumbled as his mouth pressed into a flat, straight line. "Everyone believes I will fuck up the moment I try. They are ready to slit my throat and steal my crown."

Elyse's expression dimmed slightly. She sensed her husband's diffidence. Alessandro wasn't his father, and he assumed their differences made him inferior. Too flawed to lead ascapo. Whather husband failed to see, however, were the strengths in his so-called weaknesses. They made him human and not a cold-blooded monster. Like Vincenzo.

"That's a good thing, I think."

"Is it?"

"Absolutely."

Alessandro scowled down her, unconvinced. "Sadly, you may be the only one who admires me."

Elyse eyed him with loving concern. "Can you tell me what the two of you talked about when I stepped outside?"

He sighed, "I do not want to say."

"Then," she replied, "you don't have to share anything at all."

Alessandro's eyes widened by a fraction. "You will not push me on this matter?"

"No," said Elyse, "but I'm here for you. If you need me."

Alessandro bowed his face to plant a kiss on the top of her head. He held her tighter still and expressed gruffly, "Thank you, wife."

Elyse and Alessandro parted ways a short while later. Not by choice, though. It was out of necessity. Alessandro had made plans to meet with Aberto De León later that evening. They were to discuss a new business proposition, one that might very likely whet the combined appetites of the Berlusconis and Morettis and Trevisanos. The proposition was, in essence, a mousetrap disguised as an opportunity, a big block of cheese for three bloodthirsty rats to fight over.

Meanwhile, Elyse had also made plans of her own. She invited her grandfather over for a very small and intimate dinner. Elyse's main objective was to develop a closer relationship with her grandfather, for the sake of their plans, but, in truth, there remained a small, hidden part of her that genuinely wished to bond with Benedetto Graviano. Blood was blood, after all.

Elyse also extended an invitation to Mariposa De León, using the excuse that a trustworthy translator was required to help her communicate with Benedetto when, in reality, she was angling to rally the dark-eyed girl to their cause.

Elyse instructed their cook,Signora Bianchi, to make a full-course Italian meal featuring their guests' favorite dishes. For Benedetto—pasta con le sarde, which was a rustic and robust pasta dish served with sardines, wild fennel, pine nuts, saffron, and olive oil. And for Mariposa—pesce spada alla ghiotta, or thick, meaty steaks of swordfish laid on a bed of tomatoes, olives, capers, raisins, and anchovies.

Around nine o'clock in the evening, Benedetto arrived first with four of his men. Mariposa arrived later with two of her bodyguards. They were all seated at a long mahogany table in the palazzo's lavish dining room.

"Thank you so much for joining me this evening," Elyse welcomed her guests with a warm smile.

Mariposa coughed with an insolent gleam in her eyes. "I had no choice.Papàmade me come."

Elyse readily humbled herself before the younger woman. "Nevertheless, it's a pleasure to have you in my home. As you know, my Italian is still a work in progress. Your help tonight is truly appreciated."

This seemed to rub Mariposa the right way. She smirked and tipped her glass of wine at Elyse. "The pleasure is all mine.Alla salute!"

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