Page 130 of Married With Malice

“Give her a phone,” my mother says.

“I can’t. Albie says she can’t use the phone and she’s to be brought upstairs to her room.”

“Then I will take her.” My mother smacks him again with the feather duster. “You stay away.”

Sonny sets me down but he doesn’t exactly stay away. He remains exactly one step behind us as my mother walks me up the stairs with her arm around my waist.

The journey isn’t a comforting one. Each step reminds me of the time I was hauled up the steps to be battered by Rocco. The fact that Sonny is wheezing right at my back doesn’t help matters.

Sonny isn’t one of my favorite people at the moment but I believe him when he says Daisy and Sabrina are safe. It’s what he didn’t say, the question he refused to acknowledge, that drills sheer terror through my very core.

Where is Luca?

It’s possible that Sonny just doesn’t have any information on Luca’s whereabouts at all.

But then why wouldn’t he just say so?

Luca’s uncle is my father’s closest ally. I don’t pretend to comprehend all the intricacies of vengeance and blood codes bonded to the mafia world. But if my father is responding to a threat, then it would make sense to call Richie Amato for reinforcements.

Halfway up the stairs, I pause and look over my shoulder. Sonny’s face is impassive right now yet I didn’t imagine the flash of emotion he showed before he abducted me from my kitchen. He tried to make the whole kidnapping experience as painless as possible and beneath that was something else, something that keeps him from answering any questions about my husband.

“You feel sorry for me,” I say. “I can see it. Why?”

He stops walking and a cheek muscle twitches. He watched me grow up and has a daughter about my age. This is likely the reason he’s always had a soft spot for his boss’s children. He doesn’t enjoy carrying out this task.

“Go to your room, Annalisa,” he says, not without gentleness. “Your father will speak to you soon.”

I could try to run but then where would I go? I didn’t count how many men were milling around outside but there were more than a few and they probably all have orders to keep me contained.

There’s no way out using brute strength. Mostly because I don’t have any. My best hope is to remain calm and wait for an opportunity.

“Take your damn coat back.” I throw the thing in Sonny’s face, tie my robe belt and dash the rest of the way to my room with my mother scrambling to catch up.

Sonny closes the door the second we’re inside the rose and cream-colored bedroom where I spent most of my life. I can see his shadow standing watch just on the other side.

My mother’s eyes are wide and fearful. She twists the handle of the feather duster in her hands. “What has happened?”

“What has happened is that my father’s henchmen broke into my house, abducted me in my bathrobe and now I’m being held hostage while NONE OF THESE FUCKERS will tell me where my husband is.”

Furious tears cloud my vision. Breathing is painful and I sink down to the edge of the bed. My mother drops the feather duster and sits beside me.

“Mama,” I whisper. “I’m afraid.”

She holds me to her soft breast and clucks soothing noises while stroking my hair.

Not for the first time, the thought occurs to me that she’s not without leverage. She’s Giulia Messina, born in the cradle of the original mafia, the only daughter of Salvatore Messina, one of the most formidable dons who ever lived. Her brother Vittorio runs the family now. My uncle’s reputation is so chilling that even my father pales whenever his name is mentioned.

I’ve only met my uncle twice and the second time I was a young teenager. My impression of Vittorio was that he had no interest in speaking to children and he strongly disliked the husband of his younger sister.

My mother says nothing as she continues to tenderly stroke my hair. She’s never defied my father before. She won’t start now.

There’s no clock in here and I’m unsure how much time passes before I hear my father’s gruff voice on the other side. He murmurs to Sonny.

Then he laughs. HE LAUGHS!

I’m sitting here in petrified agony while he’s out there laughing like he’s watching a fucking sitcom. I jump to my feet, tempted to take a swing at his mostly bald head the second it pokes through the door.

My mother, sensing my mood, puts her arm around me. “Don’t talk back. You know how he is.”

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