Page 20 of Married With Malice

I don’t care if he’s the Don or a movie star or a god on Mount Olympus. I think of him calling me a heinous bitch earlier and my blood simmers.

Technically, I started it by calling him a lying prick but why split hairs?

We’ve found the ice machine. As I grab a paper cup and hold it under the dispenser, my mother is overcome by a fresh wave of anguish.

“I don’t understand. Annalisa, why would you do this to Luca?”

There’s not much about me that shedoesunderstand. She didn’t fight for me when my father pulled the plug on my skating dreams. I never expected her to fight for me now.

Still, she’s my mother. I’d never hurt her. It’s not her fault she was kept under lock and key by her fearsome father and then punted out the door into Albie Barone’s clutches before the age of twenty. She remains bewildered by her own children.

As for my infamous grandfather, he died in a yacht explosion when I was three. The current head of the family is my mother’s older brother, rumored to be even more brutal than the man he succeeded.

Maybe this is why I can never bring myself to judge my mother too harshly. She’s always been held under the thumbs of violent men, including the one she married.

“Luca really liked my dress,” I assure her. “He said so.”

Sort of true. I doubt Luca really has a witch kink.

“Hmph,” she replies with her face full of doubt.

My feet are as cold as my arms. These hospital socks aren’t very well insulated. I hadn’t packed a suitcase for the honeymoon because I planned to scheme my way out of the trip but I did leave a gym bag with extra clothes back at the church. I don’t even have my phone, although this feels like a small blessing. There’s not much appeal in being connected to the outside world right now.

Sabrina is sitting up in bed and some new company has arrived. A tall, thin man with a shock of white hair and a matching lab coat introduces himself as Dr. Harvey.

“I’m getting surgery,” Sabrina announces. “Goodbye, appendix.”

“Correct,” says Dr. Harvey with more good cheer than the moment deserves.

My mother unleashes a cry of distress and rushes to the bed to cradle Sabrina in her arms.

The room is officially overcrowded. Now that Big Man Bowie is awake, Daisy pulls him out into the hallway so we’re not all standing nose to nose.

“When is she having the surgery?” I ask. “How long will it take? When can she come home?”

Dr. Harvey clicks his pen and studies me with thoughtful eyes behind egg-shaped spectacles.

“You can talk to my sister,” Sabrina pipes up from the bed. “Anni is my lifetime appointed guardian.”

The doctor nods as if this makes perfect sense. “She’ll be prepped shortly now that an operating room is open. I’m confident there has been no rupture so the appendectomy will be laparoscopic and will only take about an hour. If all goes smoothly, your sister will likely be discharged tomorrow. She should be able to resume all normal activities within one to three weeks.”

“Are you the surgeon?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“How many of these surgeries have you performed?”

“Annalisa,” hisses my mother, who doesn’t believe in questioning authority figures.

Dr. Harvey, however, seems unbothered as he mulls the question over. “Well over a hundred.”

I spend a few seconds examining him. His lap coat is pristine. His hazel eyes are clear and alert with a crinkle of amusement in the corners.

“My first name is Carlton,” says Dr. Harvey. “Feel free to look up testimonials from my patients. Last I checked, there were three hundred and nineteen ratings with an average of four point nine out of five stars.”

“Five stars would be better,” I say.

The eye crinkles deepen and he fights a smile. “Yes, it would. But I promise that your sister is in good hands, Ms. Barone.”

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