Page 17 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
A good Italian Mafia wife doesn’t drink to excess, doesn’t take drugs, doesn’t argue, and doesn’t express opinions. She only speaks when it’s acceptable to, she dresses conservatively,and she takes good care of her husband and then herself. The only difference between a Mafia bride and a Stepford wife is that the former’s white picket fence is bulletproof.
These are rules I have to live by now, if I value my life and that of my family. What’s more, there I was thinking the only introduction I’d have to contend with today was my introduction to Savero Di Santo, not the brotherno onetalks about.
I can feel the anger colliding with fear deep in my chest. Papa talked to Cristiano like he was a long-lost son, whereas I didn’t even know he existed. That encounter alone has left me dizzy and disoriented, especially knowing what Savero is capable of. If only I could remember a word of my conversation with Cristiano that night. The not-knowing is crippling.
Something pink and blue looms overhead, and we all crane our necks to the sky. Tess is the only one who finds the power of speech.
“What thehellis that?”
“Madonna!Contessa! It is for your sister.” Allegra gasps.
“Seriously,” Tess says, undeterred. “What is it?”
I sigh into my lap, while Sera squints and says, “It’s a balloon ...”
“A giant inflatable heart with a crown on it,” Bambi adds.
“Cazzo!How inappropriate,” Tess says, her lip curling into its signature grimace. “It’s a funeral, for heaven’s sake.”
“You don’t know Di Santo arranged it,” Sera said. “There could be another engagement taking place here.”
Tess’s eyes widen, and her voice drops several octaves. “That’s why it says ‘Di Santo and Castellano’ on the back?”
I groan inwardly and step out of the car.
“Well, I think it’s romantic,” Sera says, working overtime to make me feel better. I don’t have the heart to tell her nothing she says or does today will work. I’ve sunk into a pit of despair,yet I can do nothing but plaster a big smile on my face and push pretty words out of my mouth.
As we walk into the hotel, I hear Tess whisper behind me. “Don’t you think it’s weird he’s chosen today to celebrate his engagement? I mean, everyone’s dressed in black.”
“Some might say it’s fitting,” I mutter under my breath.
“But hisfatherjust died,” she continues. “He’s supposed to be grieving.”
“People grieve in different ways,” Allegra says curtly. “Mr. Di Santo is doing what his father would have wanted him to do. What respectable Italian man wouldn’t want a wife and a family? Settling down with a good woman may be his own way of paying his respects to the late don.”
I spin around, unsure I heard her correctly.
“You are agoodwoman, Trilby,” she says through a clenched jaw.
“Don’t choke, Allegra,” I deadpan.
She straightens her shoulders. “Come on, girls. I need you all to be on your best behavior. This is an important moment for our family.”
We file into the expansive function room. High, ornate ceilings tower over us, and gold-trimmed walls close us in like caged birds.
“So what did he say to you?” Sera asks.
I swallow down vomit. “Nothing of note.”
“Not even ‘you look beautiful’?” Tess says, striking another blow to my self-esteem.
“He has a funeral to attend to and far more important things to be thinking about,” I reply.Like dismembering a living being while he’s choking to death right in front of us.
“It was his decision to turn a funeral into an engagement party,” Tess says. “I think it’s rude.”
“Trust me.” I smooth the creases from the journey out of my dress. “This isnotgoing to be a party.”
I glance up to see her looking at something over my shoulder. Turning to follow her gaze, I see several groups of men, all dressed in black, flooding into the room like termites. I watch them enter one by one, their conversations as tight as the lines on their brows. There’s only one man I recognize: Benny Bernadi. His quiet and mysterious reputation seems to enter the room before he does, as the volume drops by a couple of decibels when he steps inside.
