Page 165 of Cruelest Contract
Fuck it. We have a long history of breaking theCosa Nostramold and there’s no reason to change course now. We’ll mourn on our terms and smack down anyone who fusses.
My father’s funeral is quiet and short. Besides us and Sonny and Mel, our cousin Nico flew out with Uncle Sal. Miguel just arrived this morning. And there’s a handful of longtime neighbors like the McNeals.
My brothers and I stand in silent vigil, exhaling clouds of white in the cold, as the priest drones through his prayers. His words refuse to stick in my head.
I’m too distracted with worry about my wife. Cecilia has exhibited remarkable poise and her strength is humbling. But no one could have possibly endured what she’s suffered and emerge unscathed.
With my arm already around her, I possessively draw her closer. She freely molds her body to mine and tilts her head to fit in the hollow of my neck. As always, no other feeling can compete with holding her.
The priest is saying a final blessing over my father’s coffin. Mel hasn’t quit crying since the service began and Sonny keeps awkwardly patting her arm with the hand that’s not bound up in a sling. Mel took the first flight out of New York when she heard the news. She’s been inconsolable. Now she unleashes a final wail of grief as the priest concludes.
I don’t want to watch my father’s coffin get lowered into the earth. Anyway, it’s too cold for Cecilia to remain out here in this bleak setting. This isn’t what she needs.
Back at the house, we find Matthias Grimaldi waiting for us on the front porch. Judging by his cold-reddened face, he musthave been standing out here for a while and he’s not dressed for the weather in a light jacket with no gloves.
“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes when Sonny sends his boys to go pat him down.
“Can you blame us?” Cecilia says a little sharply, making it clear she’s not going to intervene on his behalf.
Matthias loses his attitude in a hurry. “No, I sure can’t.”
“He’s clean,” Sonny says. “But I think we ought to cuff him in case he gets fucking cocky.”
“Hey, I’m just here to speak to my sister.” Matthias grumbles. He looks her over, taking in the sight of her pregnant belly and the fact that my arm is around her shoulders. “Can we talk, Cecilia?”
“Yes,” she says. “But my husband is coming too.”
He nods. “Fair enough.”
Sonny is still scowling and my brothers are circling Matthias like angry jackals. With one gesture from me, they back off.
The best place in the house for a serious meeting with your Mafia assassin brother-in-law is where it’s always been. My father’s study.
After Matthias is ushered inside, I pause at the threshold and take my wife’s hand. “We can go to the library instead. Fewer memories there.”
Cecilia considers this and ultimately shakes her head. “We’re surrounded by memories, Julian. Some of them happen to be bad. None of them can hurt us.”
Matthias glances around with discomfort, like this might be the last room on earth he’d like to be standing in. He shakes his head when I offer him a seat.
There are no visible signs of what occurred here on Christmas Eve. The leather sofa where my father took his last breath has already been burned. Teresa’s painting is back up on the wall. Cecilia’s cat is even curled up on a burgundy throw rugin front of the cold fireplace. She sniffs in Matthias’s direction and decides she doesn’t like what she finds so she runs out of here.
Before dealing with Grimaldi, my priority is helping Cecilia take her coat off and get comfortable in a chair. Matthias watches the process with an intense eye. He waits until his sister is settled and then doesn’t beat around the bush.
“The old man is dead,” he says. “Choked on a pillow last night.”
“I see.” Cecilia exhales with a shudder and reaches for my hand. “Pillows can be dangerous.”
Matthias gives her a tight smile. “They do tend to cut off all the oxygen when held over a man’s face.”
It’s the closest he’ll come to admitting that he committed the deed personally. I would have gladly claimed the honors myself but I don’t blame him. He had every right.
“Thanks for traveling all the way out here just to share the news,” I say.
His gaze becomes less friendly when it lands on me. “I had other reasons too. Vittorio Messina wants an assurance that you’ll be stepping into your father’s role as head of the family. He says all deals only apply if you’re the one running the show.” Matthias’s shrug is packed with irritation. “He likes you for some reason.”
“That’s touching,” I say. “But my father is being buried as we speak and I’m in no mood to talk about succession plans.”
Finally, a twitch of shame turns his cold stare into a grimace. “I am sorry for your loss, Julian. I mean that.” Next, he looks at his sister again and deflates. “Cecilia, I really don’t know what to say about Gabriel. I wish I did.”
