Page 51 of Sins of the Orchid
Adriano called me to tell me what happened. Mr. Russo was strolling to get his daily paper when the drive-by shooting happened. He had twenty bullets in him, and they killed five innocent bystanders.
My eyes traveled to my best friend. It was a shock to the system to hear him break down. I spent hours on the phone with him as he cried, and I cried with him. But I must have been a horrible friend because the whole time I worried about Santi too. I hadn’t heard from, nor spoken to Santi since that night at The Orchid. His words still hurt, but in the grand scheme of things, that pain didn’t compare to this. Who was comforting Santi? Or did he take it all out by hunting the men that killed his father?
I didn’t know how many men of the Venezuelan Cartel Santi had killed. They all deserved it. But it made me wonder whether he would bestow the same fate on me if he knew my blood relation to Perèz Rothschild. No matter how reluctant. Would it matter to him that those same people killed my own mother, regardless that she was his grandchild?
As if sensing my thoughts, Santi lifted his head and our eyes locked. The air stilled, the time seemed to slow, and the world faded, leaving me alone with the man that was drowning. He didn’t move a muscle, not a single change to his expression. But his gaze hit me right through to my soul. There was rage, sorrow, and loss in those dark depths. I wanted to make it better for him. Except I knew he would never accept help from me. He didn’t consider me old enough, even for that.
People started moving, approaching the Russo brothers and offering their condolences, but Santi’s eyes never strayed from me. He shook hands, acknowledged words spoken, but all the while, his piercing gaze pulled me into his darkness. Challenged me to come forward.
What was it about him that always tugged on my soul? Two years away should have cured this pull. I’d had plenty of dates with men since that kiss, plenty of kisses too… but none of them moved me. My heart remained unmoved, as if it was only beating for Santi.
Unhealthy obsession.It was the only logical explanation.
My father and Luigi showed up at our side, and I turned my attention to them, all the while aware of Santi’s eyes on me. It was like an itch, a burn on my neck that wouldn’t fade away.
“Amore, I didn’t think you’d make it.” Dad wrapped me in his embrace, and I returned the comfort.
“Sorry it took so long to get here. There was a storm and the pilots had to land the plane and wait it out.”
“You are here now. Safe. That is all that matters.”
I shifted to Luigi as Dad turned his attention to Uncle Vincent. They discussed some threats, but they kept switching between Italian and English too quickly. I couldn’t follow their conversation with Luigi’s attention on me.
“My baby sister.” He grinned.
“Hey, brother,” I greeted him. I hadn’t seen him since Christmas when he, Dad, and Adriano came to spend time with me in Italy.
He pulled me into a hug. “Look at you, sis. I hardly recognize you.”
I smiled. “You just saw me.”
He tenderly brushed his finger over my cheek. “That was four months ago. Every time I see you, it’s like you’ve grown more.”
“I’m still the same size,” I told him begrudgingly. To my dismay, my growth ended once I reached five foot five. “We get older every day,” I added.
Truth was that some days I felt even older than my twenty years. Maybe leading a double life wasn’t for me, though I refused to give up until I saw the man that killed my mother dead. It was my promise to keep. Santi killed one all those years ago at that NYU party and though I was scared, it also felt gratifying to know he was dead. He hurt my mother; Santi hurt him. It was only fair. And I would kill his accomplices.
“I hear your grandmother is happy with all your work and wants to transfer the reins to you,” Luigi commented.
“It’s too soon. I’m not ready,” I admitted reluctantly. The truth was I feared taking the reins of Regalè enterprise would pull me away from my father and brothers. The Russos too. Not that Santi cared too much about me.
Luigi watched me soberly and then nodded. “You are ready, but if you feel it is too soon, then it’s too soon. She needs to let you finish college in peace at least.”
A pair of hands came around me from behind and wrapped around my waist.
“I was sure you wouldn’t make it,” Adriano whispered into my ear, his voice slightly choked.
Turning around, I met his eyes. He was alone. Santi was still in the same spot as more people offered condolences. He was officially the don now. At twenty-nine, he was the youngest one in the history of the Italian mafia. At least that's what Adraino said.
“I promised I’d be here. No storm would keep me away.” I took his hand into mine and squeezed it in silent comfort. I wished there was something I could do for him. For Santino too.
My eyes darted to his older brother again, like a magnetic pull I had no control over. The two brothers were so similar, yet so different. Santino was probably more alone now than ever. His jaw was pressed so tight, I’d thought he’d break it.
Adriano’s face was tense too, but it looked more grief stricken than furious.
“Amore, will you ride with Vincent to the Russo residence?” Dad asked. When I looked at him in confusion, he explained. “Or do you want to join your brother and me? The tradition is to hold a reception after the funeral.”
It was hard to picture the Russo family anywhere but in their city home. Maybe because that was a period before I had known them.
