Page 54 of Married With Malice

Richie is still fuming. But we’re on Barone’s turf and in the scheme of things, we’re the ones who need to make amends right now. Barone could call on a dozen replacement Roccos anytime but he needs to make it clear who’s in charge.

And I have no reason to doubt his claim that this is a straightforward hit. It’s in everyone’s best interest if I come back alive.

Then all this tension can disappear.

Thecaposcan quit looking at me like I’m some privileged prince who won’t get his hands dirty.

All I need to do is kill a man.

“Sure Albie,” I say. “I’d be happy to take care of that for you.”

“È bello sentirlo.”His face splits into a grin.

I’m not positive what that means but I think it’s something like, ‘Good to hear that’.

Albie motions to one of his men. “Let’s get some shots all around. The good whiskey.” He points to me. “And you can take the two shit-for-brains Castelli cowboys with you. Bring sure to back a souvenir. I’m a fan of souvenirs.”

Glasses are poured and handed out. A collective‘Salute’is spoken by all before we down our shots.

Barone sets his shot glass face down. “On a more pleasant topic, the holidays are coming up. We’ll have Christmas here at the house. Both families are invited so the kids don’t need to choose. How does that suit you, Richie?”

“That’ll work,” Richie says, sounding tired. And still annoyed.

The door is opened and we rise to leave. In closing, Barone says to wait by the phone for details on tonight’s job. I’m expected to carry it out without any problems.

On our departing walk through the house, Giulia Barone is seen dusting the vases in a different room. This time she doesn’t even look up at the noise we make as we file past the doorway. I guess that’s how she gets through her days. See no evil, hear no evil.

Movement catches my eyes and I see Sabrina standing at the second floor open railing. There’s a worried look on her face as our eyes meet. She probably heard about Rocco’s untimely demise and now she’s wondering about our conversation last week.

But that conversation, as we agreed, never happened. So there is nothing to wonder about.

Sabrina moves away from the railing and scampers down the hall.

Next, my eyes flicker to the grand staircase. I picture Annalisa as a helpless teenage girl, sobbing as she’s dragged over those steps by Rocco’s vicious hands.

I’m not sorry at all that he’s dead. In fact, I’m damn fucking gleeful that I made it happen.

It’s when we’re back in Richie’s car and away from unfriendly faces that I finally ask, “What did Barone mean about souvenirs?”

Franco snorts with laughter.

Nico, driving again, gives me a glance of apprehension in the rearview mirror.

Richie stays silent and lets Brisetti explain.

“You know, like a hand or maybe an ear.” He shrugs as if he’s discussing his grocery list. “Just take a finger or two when you’re done. That’ll be good enough.”

11

ANNALISA

What a mistake.

I chose to snuggle up with the holiday romcom because I love this author and the cover is full of pastel cuteness and I thought maybe all the frothy seasonal goodness would infect me with the Christmas spirit.

However, I’m not infected, not even slightly.

This isn’t the book’s fault. If I were in a different mood I’d be devouring the snappy banter, grinning over the eccentric side characters and wishing that I too resided in a small, geographically imprecise town famous for its annual gingerbread house competition.

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