Page 3 of King

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I’ve heard it a thousand times today. I nod, taking my friend’s hand and shaking it. “Thank you, Georgia.” I grumble.

He moves aside and the next person takes his place. “I’m sorry. She was wonderful.”

“Thank you, Amelia.”

When Zina steps forward and holds her hand out towards me, I take it in slow motion. “I’m sorry for your loss, Giovanni.” She says, almost in a whisper.

Next to me Santino is standing straight as a nail, glaring at her as though he can sense the trouble she brings.

My words are stuck in my throat.

“This is my son.” Zina says gesturing towards the boy. “Be polite, Guido.” She nudges him gently. He’s staring at me with wide eyes, filled with shock and wonder.

He holds out his hand and shakes mine. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He murmurs, then pulls his hand away.

Why does he look so familiar?

“What are you doing here, Zina?” I growl under my breath. “You shouldn’t have come.”

She smiles tightly. “It’s been a long time, Giovanni. I thought we could move past the hostility.”

I shake my head. “You need to leave.”

“I need to speak with you.”

She’s holding up the line of family and friends who want to wish me well and share their heartfelt words.

I glance towards Santino, who senses my annoyance and discomfort.

He takes Zina’s arm, pulling her away with a rough tug. “My father needs space. And he told you to leave.” He says.

Zina yanks her arm away, standing her ground. She glares at Santino before turning to me again. “I will be here. When you’re ready, please take a moment to speak with me before you go.” She says, polite but firm.

I clench my jaw, not saying anything.

She’s causing a scene. Even though she’s being subtle and quiet, people have noticed the tension and they’re all watching closely to try to understand what is going on.

Santino takes her arm again. This time, she let him pull her away from me. The boy follows her quietly, looking uncomfortable and out of place.

The next person who steps up to speak to me looks more curious than lost in grief. This annoys me.

They quickly shake my hand, noticing my glare, muttering something about my loss before they hurry away.

For the rest of the afternoon I speak with my family and friends, the people who have come to say goodbye to my beautiful wife, and while I am drifting through this nightmare - my eyes keep drifting towards Zina and her son, Guido .

“Dad, do you want me to have them removed?” Santino leans close and whispers to me.

“No, leave them. Everyone has a right to say goodbye.”

“Don’t get the feeling that she’s here to say goodbye to mom.” He huffs.

“Son, I said leave it.” I snap.

He pulls his mouth tight and nods.

“Where is Dante?” I ask about my youngest son because I’ve hardly seen him since this morning when we left the estate.

“He’s not doing well today. He’s struggling with all of this.” Santino says.

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