Page 102 of Mafia King: Matteo
“Thank you.” He sits to Matteo’s left. “I hear you were at quite an event last night.”
“It was. How was your flight?”
“A jet to myself? I slept from exhaustion.”
I know he’s referring to his sleepless nights rather than the time change. Matteo mentioned he is having a difficult time. It had to be horrible to stumble into a bloody crime scene. I didn’t want the details.
I eat, and we talk. Afterward, the men invited me to study with them. I send Matteo a questioning glance, and he nods.
I make myself comfortable on the couch as Matteo sits in his leather chair and Niccoló paces.
“I have a letter from Chiara. Her sister was able to slip it to me at the funeral in a room where no one would see us. She said Chiara had told her to give it to me in case anything happened to her. She promised she would. She had no idea what was in the sealed envelope.”
He pauses, and his face is about to erupt in tears from the sound of his voice. “It’s Chiara’s confession. She killed our father. She had an affair last year. The man meant nothing to her, and she ended it. She was afraid to tell me. She loved me and was afraid of losing me. She said it was a stupid mistake. All she knew was that a Sicilian man with a Cosa Nostra tattoo approached her after work one night. He gave her the poison and told her he would be watching her and that they would kill her sister if she didn’t do as she was told.”
“That’s barbaric,” I exclaim and look at Matteo. He’s not surprised, and I wonder if he’s done something similar.
“It happens. Sicily is a different world,” Matteo interjects.
“Chiara knew she was being watched. She was stressed and couldn’t tell anyone. She sent the letter with directions to her sister. She was afraid her sister would be killed if she met with her. She felt as if she was being followed. This explains why she suddenly worked more and saw less of me. I knew something was off. I should have known someone would use her to get to us. Why is it the women in our life pay for our sins?” Niccoló’s voice cracks. He sinks to the floor in grief.
“So, they knew of her affair and used her as a weapon against the family. She had our trust. It was easy for her to slip Dad something. Don’t blame yourself, Niccolò. She was in a situation where she was going to die either way. She wanted to live, so she did what they wanted. She had no way of knowing that she was a loose end and that they would kill her whether she did it or not. She can identify the man who approached her, and it would lead to someone else,” Matteo says. He walks to his brother and pulls him into his embrace. “You can’t blame yourself. You have to find the will to live.”
“Who did this?” I ask, feeling helpless as I sit on the sidelines.
“The Cosa Nostra could be working on anyone’s behalf,” Niccoló says as he finally hugs his brother and sits beside me. He buries his face in his hands. I move closer and put my arm around him to comfort him.
“I’m so sorry. Try to remember when you were both at your happiest time together. You can’t let them destroy you.” I try to encourage him to live and hope it will get easier as time passes, but I wonder if that’s possible. He was dedicated to her and remains faithful to her memory in the wake of her death.
“I’ll never love again. I loved her with all my heart. These men are cruel. Life is cruel, and love is not worth the pain it causes. You shouldn’t marry Matteo. Alena is in danger. The Borrelli men are cursed.”
“I know of curses and have repeatedly questioned them, but it doesn’t have to end badly.”
“I can tell you love Alena and that she loves you. They will use her to get to you.”
“Unless I get to them first.” Matteo stands and paces. “We might be overthinking this. What if it is related to the Cosa Nostra? They have no way of knowing we know they approached Chiara. Perhaps there was bad blood between Dad and Santino Moretti here in New York. Dad’s advisor knew something, as Gio and I found him dead in his apartment. While we were there, we heard the paramedics and cops were approaching.”
“You were being followed?” Niccoló asks.
“Yes, and we assume we are still being watched. Someone doesn’t want us to know what happened between two families that have never been friends. But what set this in motion?” Matteo stares out the French doors and watches the snow flurries.
My eyes follow where he’s looking. The sky is gray. Dark clouds are moving in. I get lost in their darkness that never ends.
My phone dings. I jump.
Kirill texts. I read it and relay the news. “It’s my friend Kirill. He worked under my father, but he’s been reassigned. He’s under a capo now.”
“This means your father isn’t going to be found,” Matteo states matter-of-factly.
“What do you mean? Someone is missing?” Niccoló asks, but is trying to catch up with what’s happening.
“My father works as an advisor to the don, and he’s been making enemies,” I state. “The story is longer than that, but your brother and I knew it was coming.”
Niccoló turns to face me. “I’m sorry. Were you close?”
“No. However, I should call my mother,” I state. I stand and look at Matteo. “Do you need me?”
“I got this,” he replies. He touches my hand briefly as I walk past him. I feel electricity from his touch. His strength reassures me that we can overcome what lies ahead together.
