Page 12 of Bellini Born
Francesca returned with a raven-haired, fresh-faced teenage girl. With a giant smile, my capo’s wife gestured toward a door behind us that would lead back into the house. “If you’ll follow me, we can get the little princess settled.”
Taking the car seat from Enzo’s hands, I leaned in, saying low, “Make sure there’s a scotch waiting for me when I get back.”
He chuckled. “I’ll make it a double.”
“Have I mentioned lately that you’re my favorite cousin?”
Rearing back, he arched a dark eyebrow. “Better not let Gemma hear you talking like that.”
“Gemma’s not here, is she?” I challenged.
God, my life would be so much easier if she were. Coming to my house and spending time with Bianca had been her escape, so I had no doubt that she would have leapt at the chance to step in and help raise my girls. And I could only imagine that a familiar face would be enough to set Bianca at ease during a time when her entire world had been flipped upside down.
“Yeah, well.” Enzo huffed, rolling his eyes. “If she keeps making waves, she’ll be back before you know it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Hope lit up in my chest as I waited for him to explain.
“Matteo?” Francesca called out, drawing my attention away from my cousin.
“I’ll fill you in later,” Enzo promised.
“Scotch,” I reminded him.
“On it.” He gave me a mock salute, stepping past me toward what was hopefully the bar.
Plastering a polite smile on my face, I followed Francesca and her daughter inside the house. My body relaxed on a sigh when the door closed behind us, muffling the raucous noise from the children in the pool.
“Right this way.” Francesca guided me through several hallways until we reached a sitting room. “You can put the carrier down wherever.”
I set the car seat on the floor, peeking inside to make sure Serafina was still sleeping. Thank God, she was. I did not have the energy to deal with a cranky baby and suffer the judgment of the mafia wives while I struggled to calm her.
The teenage girl plopped onto a nearby couch, and I asked her, “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Nope.” She popped the P before pulling out her phone and mindlessly scrolling.
“Sofia,” Francesca hissed. “Show some respect.” She glanced at me nervously.
Straightening up with wide eyes, the girl dropped the phone to her lap. “Sorry. I’ll keep a good eye on her, Mr. Bellini.”
Not wanting to undermine her mother, I gave her a curt dip of my chin. “See that you do.”
We turned to leave when Enzo burst into the room, chest heaving, eyes wild.
The strong sense of déjà vu was chilling.
“What happened?”
My cousin’s eyes squeezed shut, and on a pained whisper, he uttered a single word. “Bianca.”
Blood running cold, I took off running in the direction of the pool. I shoved through the door so forcefully that it cracked off the wall, the sharp sound deafening in the silence of a room that had once been so loud I could barely hear myself think.
Half of those gathered turned to stare at me, and their grief-stricken faces had terror piercing my heart. The other half were gathered on the far edge of the pool, and even though I knew whatever scene they were witnessing had the power to tear my heart out, I forced my feet to move closer.
Like the Red Sea, they parted as I approached, revealing the sight of a soaking wet lifeguard bent over my unconscious four-year-old performing, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
From far away, what sounded like the scream of a wounded animal reached my ears as my knees hit the concrete. The rawness of my throat would suggest it came from me, but it felt like I was watching this scene from above, witnessing my daughter’s life slip away despite the efforts to save her.
I begged a god I didn’t believe in for mercy, if not for my soul then for my little girl’s. She didn’t deserve to be punished for my sins. She was innocent.
