Page 3 of Final Installment
Fine.But you owe me.
Trust me.I’m going to make everything right.
One night.I just have to make it through this family dinner and then I can leave.
My stomach was in knots as I drove down the beautifully landscaped lane that led to my mother’s ridiculous country club mansion.During my drive from Dallas, I had been mentally preparing as if I was going to war.Maybe a bit dramatic, but it sure felt as if I were about to storm a battlefield.
Not that I had chosen particularly good armor for the occasion.I loved the peony pink kaftan I had bought on vacation on Phi Phi Don with my best friend Cheyenne.It made me feel pretty, something that I struggled with even after years of therapy.
"I love who I am,” I announced confidently over Chappell Roan’s upbeat singing.“I am stronger than my fears.”
Was I?Because fear was one of the reasons I never came home.
Also—shame.
Humiliation.
“I am letting go of all of my worries.”My voice quavered.“I am calm and relaxed.”I smiled at the dog walker handling seven leashes attached to prancing little lap dogs.“And I am talking to myself like a crazy person.”
I wanted to turn around and drive straight back to Dallas, back to my cozy apartment.I wanted to be anywhere but here, minutes away from facing my mother.
Why did I come back here?
Dafina.My sister.I might not like her very much—and she liked me even less—but I was not going to let her face this sham of an arranged marriage alone.
Not that I had much of a choice anyway.My mother had practically threatened my life when I had mentioned skipping this dinner.She didn’t want my company.She wanted my money.More than she had ever demanded from me in the past.Enough that it made me sick to pull it out of my safe and tuck it away in my handbag.
Even if I’d been brave enough to tell my mother to kick rocks, I didn’t dare refuse my grandfather.His most recent phone call had made that terrifyingly clear.Even from all the way across the Atlantic, sitting in his little fiefdom in Montenegro, Grandfather’s raspy voice sent shivers down my spine.I would show up to this dinner—or I would learn a painful lesson.
To my grandfather, family was everything.Blood ties were paramount.
Duty.Honor.Loyalty.They were part of my DNA.
Refusing a command from your father or grandfather was unthinkable.Which was why my father was dead and buried back in Albania.He hadn’t been brave enough to refuse a suicide mission ordered by my grandfather.
Not that we ever discussed his death or the reasons it happened.We never mentioned my Aunt Gonxhe who had been blown up when she was on the way to a midwife appointment or my Uncle Pali who had his throat slit while leaving a night club.We never spoke of the failed coup that led to our family’s exile.It was absolutely forbidden.
Secrets.Lies.Superstitions.If our family had a motto, those would be our words.
I dragged in an anxious breath as I turned onto the driveway.The gates were closed, and I had to lean out of the driver’s side window and tap the keypad.All these years, no one had thought to change the code.Not exactly the best security protocol for a mafia family in exile.
The grounds had been perfectly manicured for the evening’s festivities.The alternating stripes in the freshly mowed yard were two different shades of green.The pink rose bushes were perfectly shaped, and the flower beds and planters had bright pink and deep red annuals spilling out of them.The fountain in the center of the drive sprayed a shimmer of water into the air, catching sunbeams and casting a rainbow.
I hesitated when I reached the house.I hadn’t been told where to park, and I doubted there was even a space for me in the carriage house hidden behind a screen of arbor vitae.I pulled under the porte-cochere for now.
I sat there with the air conditioner blasting in my face, working up the courage to go inside.I felt like a prisoner just moments away from facing a firing squad.
“This situation is temporary.”I spoke calmly and willed myself to believe the words.“I am equipped to handle this situation.”
I wasted a few more moments by checking my makeup.Last weekend, one of the little girls I coached had smacked a line drive straight out into left field, bringing three runs and clutching a win for our softball team.Unfortunately for me, I’d been directly in the line of fire when she let go of her bat.
The swelling had gone down quickly.The color had shifted from bright purple and red to darker shades of blue and green.Having a best friend who was an absolute pro at makeup had its perks.Cheyenne had given me a pile of products to use including some disgustingly expensive concealer and a handmade arnica cream she’d picked up at a farmer’s market.The bruise was barely visible now.
Steeled for the worst, I turned off my Outback, grabbed my purse and stepped out into humid breeze.I held the handbag like a shield in front of me and kept my head high as walked to the front door.I didn’t even have to ring the bell.The double doors with their ornate iron work swung open before I even had a chance to lift my hand.
“Elona!You’re home!”Mariana, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with tears in her eyes.She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing the air out of my lungs, and hugged me as if she feared I might disappear.“I’ve missed you so much!”
I laughed.“Mariana!You saw me four months ago for my birthday!”
