Page 22 of Third Degree

I’d been dreading this damn meeting all week. The truth was, deep down, I’d already made up my mind to go back to the club.

It was all because of Gianna. That woman stormed into my life like a whirlwind, flipping everything upside down. She brought a glimmer of light into the darkest corners of my existence.

But I couldn’t let anyone see through my intentions. No, I couldn’t risk upsetting the Ricci family, and I certainly wouldn’t put it on Ricardo’s head.

I wouldn’t allow a war to break out between the families just because I’d made up my mind about something.

So I’d play the game. I’d show up to that meeting and pretend like they convinced me to come back. I’d make them believe I was willing to help the Mafia families by allowing them to launder their cash through my clubs.

Ricardo:104098 Marine Street.

I grabbed my keys and gave Nutella a pat on the head before leaving the house, making sure to leave it unlocked in case I was late and Gianna came by.

Fuck someone coming by. It’s not like I had anything worth stealing anyway.

With a heavy sigh, I hopped into the car and glanced at the empty passenger seat. After Bea’s passing, I had to get a new car, unable to bear the weight of memories tied to her and our children. Yet now this car held a different emotion, a fresh wave of sentiment. It embodied the moments of watching Gianna sleep, knowing her nightly struggles to find peace but finding solace and serenity in my presence.

The mere thought of these days slipping away from us tightened my chest, suffocating me with a sense of impending loss.

Loss, what my life knew. The loss of my wife. The loss of my boys growing up and moving out. This was just another loss. It was almost… expected in a sense. This was too good to be true. Too perfect. Too much of a happily ever after for me.

I shook my head and pulled out of the driveway, driving toward the address sent to me. As I drove through the neighborhoods on the other side of town, it took me a second to recognize the familiarity of where I was driving.

It wasn’t until I arrived at the destination that it hit me: This was where I dropped off Gianna every night. The Ricci family were her neighbors. What a strange coincidence.

But it also dawned on me she was going to be so close to me at this dinner. Maybe afterward, I could go over there and surprise her. Could you imagine the shock for her parents to see their precious, barely legal daughter with an older, widowed man? Ha! What a tale that would be.

I walked up to the ornate door of the mansion and knocked, and a housekeeper answered.

“Mr. Marchetti. It is a pleasure. Everyone is waiting for you in the dining room.” She gestured me inside.

I walked down the long hallway and noticed the elaborate paintings that lined it. This family was grotesquely pretentious. It was everything I hated and more—an opulent show of wealth.

Finally, the housekeeper opened the large wooden doors where I could only assume that the rest of the family was waiting.

To spite all of them, I arrived fifteen minutes late.

Before the door opened, I looked down at the Tom Ford suit I’d grabbed from the back of my closet. It was a classic navy-blue ensemble, one a little tight around me from all the working out I had been doing the last couple of years, but it was going to have to do.

The doors revealed a large room with a wooden table in the center. A few kids were at one end of the table, but my vision went straight to the head, where I could only assume Mr. Ricci was sitting.

“Mr. Angelo Ricci.” I went over to shake his hand.

“Anche sei due Signore Ricci. (Also, there are two Mr. Riccis).” I nodded at the man who owned this palatial estate. I had seen him around town and worked with Ricardo a few times. I knew they were friendly.

“Please let me introduce you to my family.”

Mr. Ricci grabbed my hand and introduced me to his wife. I kissed her hand politely, and she bashfully smiled. She was much younger than him, probably mid-thirties like myself.

“And this is my daughter. Please have a seat next to her.” He pulled the chair out, and I turned to look at the girl busy conversing with her cousin.

When her father tapped her on her shoulder, she turned to look curiously. As she shifted her gaze upward and our eyes locked in an electrifying connection, time seemed to freeze momentarily. The surprise etched on her face mirrored my own astonishment.

I hadn’t anticipated seeing her here, and yet, in that fleeting instant, it felt like the universe had conspired to bring us together once again.

Act normal. For the love of anything good and right, please do not act surprised.

Her head cocked to the side, and she looked up, offering me an infectious smile.

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