Page 132 of Married With Malice

I straighten up and ask the only question that matters. “Where is my husband?”

His jaw flexes and he looks me over with the same energy that one might use when appraising a car. “Are you pregnant?”

The strangeness of his question only amplifies my fear. “No, I’m not pregnant.”

He grunts with a nod of approval. “For once your disobedience has worked in your favor, Annalisa.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“If you’d been pregnant you wouldn’t have been allowed to remain in that condition. I won’t have any of their kind around here.”

He says this so casually that my mouth goes dry and my heart hammers in my chest. The walls of my throat constrict with fright.

My father takes no notice of my terror. Or maybe he enjoys it when he says, “They killed your uncle. Richie Amato and the rest of his cursed family.”

I shake my head and wonder if I’m going insane or he is. “Uncle Bill died in a cartel hit. Richie Amato helped you take out those responsible. I don’t know everything but I know that much.”

“A lie, all of it. He set up the hit. He killed my brother. Then he pretended to seek an alliance, swearing that my enemies are his. In return I gave him loyalty and friendship. I even gave him a daughter. Now I take it all back. All deals between our family and the Amatos are finished. And so are they.”

“Luca had nothing to do with any of this! He wasn’t even working for Richie at the time. He was in law school. He didn’t know anything!”

“His uncle made him the family successor. He shares their fate.”

“WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?”

“Dead.”

The word carries all the cruel, indifferent power of a bullet.

I can’t even absorb its meaning.

My eyes see nothing except memories of Luca’s smile and my ears hear nothing but the echo of his voice.

“You’re my heart, Annalisa.”

“Marry me, Anni. Right here and now.”

“Miss me while I’m gone…”

A scream of unutterable grief rips out of my throat and I run to my father, prepared to claw his face off. “YOU’RE A LIAR! YOU’RE A FUCKING LIAR!”

This time he’s ready for me. He fends off my swinging arms with a blow that connects with my right cheekbone and comes with a constellation of pain. I’m struggling to stay upright but a punch to my stomach drops me to the floor and I have nothing left. No weapon, no strength, nothing but indescribable anguish.

My father leaves me there. The door opens and shuts. I hear him order Sonny to make sure I stay put in the bedroom.

There’s so much pain in multiple places on my body. The skin around my right eye is already swelling shut and the wind was knocked out of me with the punch to the gut. But it’s all nothing compared to the heartache that promises to drown me.

Curling on my side on the cold floor, I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, willing a miracle to happen.

There was another time when I was nearly this desperate, when I summoned him with a fervent wish and spoke his name like a prayer.

And then he appeared. Against all odds, there he was in the middle of a blizzard.

All I wanted then was him.

All I wantnowis him.

“Luca,” I whisper. “Come back to me.”

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