Page 41 of Devious
“Okay, let me know when you have her,” I state.
Aiden pats me on the back. “We’ll get Cashel back for this shit,” he says, leaving.
Exhaling, I clutch my phone from my back pocket, then send Charlotte a message.
Me: Come to Enzo’s house and clean the room. Get them dressed for the funeral in the next couple of days.
A memory of me as a teenager running up and down the stairs barges into my mind. Enzo letting me spend the night here while my momma went off with her friends to party. Sometimes, Aiden and I wouldn’t come home, and they wouldn’t notice. Enzo taught me how to survive, how to be a man, treating me like I was his child. I lean against the wall with my hands in my pockets.
Thirty minutes later, Charlotte barges in, wearing an all-black suit and carrying a clipboard in her hand. She gives me a heartfelt hug as she rubs my back.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, sweetness.”
She kisses both of my cheeks and steps back. Charlotte has been cleaning up bodies for as far as I can remember. Her hair is white, and she’s wrinkly like prunes.
“Where are they?”
“In the bedroom.”
I leave the house and sit in the passenger seat of the car.
Aiden is in the back seat playing on the phone, with a cigarette in his mouth. I punch my hand on the dashboard, screaming at the top of my lungs.
Roselyn
Ihate funerals. Most people don’t like them, but I really despise them, which is why I didn’t even attend my mother’s. Out of all the funerals I’ve been to—and I’ve been to many because so many people die in the mafia that death becomes a norm—this is the saddest one I’ve ever attended. So many people are here, and people stand next to the brown caskets and speak of how they were a good couple and the light of thefamiglia. Enzo’sfamigliaspeaks about how he served the mafia with pride, honor, and honesty.
Devious’s eyes gloss over, but he doesn’t shed a tear. Guilt suffocates the air but love overshadows it. I hold his hand, squeezing it without glancing up at him. He brushes his lips against my hand, and I want to sigh, but I don’t. Instead, I stand there as if I’m not affected by him.
I keep my eyes trained on both of the caskets, watching as they are lowered to the ground. I tilt my nose to the gray sky; the smell of rain still lingers in the air from earlier. Specks of water kiss my face, and strands of hair stick to the sides of my cheeks. Papa is the first person to set a flower on the casket. His face has faded bruises around his nose and cheeks. I want to ask him what happened, but when he looks at Devious, I have my answer. Devious watches him with annoyance.
Our eyes meet, and Papa shakes his head as he marches to his car.
“You beat him, didn’t you? For slapping me across the face.”
He doesn’t respond until it’s our time to place our roses on the casket. We stand a little while longer as my heels sink into the muddy dirt.
He removes a few strands of my hair from my face. His demeanor is so composed and elegant. “I did. He knows now not to verbally or physically abuse you anymore.”
A few people offer Devious their condolences. Nero and Saverio shake Devious’s hand, while I ignore them.
Aiden strides to him, whispers something in his ear, and Devious nods. Aiden waves at me, and I wave back, and then Devious ushers me to the limo. King is already in the driver’s seat, with Damien beside him. An SUV full of soldiers trail behind us. Normally, when the mafia has big gatherings, they double up on security because enemies are most likely to strike.
My feet hurt from wearing these ridiculous heels, and I groan as I remove them, tossing them onto the floorboard. Devious takes my feet and massages my aching, tender heels.
“Is this better?” he asks.
Shock blankets me. I don’t understand his behavior—he’s giving me whiplash. One minute, he’s hot as boiling water, and the next, he’s cold as Antarctica.
“Oh, God. It is. Honestly, I don’t understand how women wear this shit or why men find them appealing.”
We ride in silence, and he continues stroking the heels of my feet. His touch makes me want him to touch me everywhere.
Two hours later, we’re in the manor, and I toss my heels on the floor.
The food the chef makes smells delicious. We both casually stroll to the dining room, and Devious pulls out my chair. I sit down, scooting closer to the table. He sits next to me, then unfolds a napkin, placing it on my lap.
I bite my pinkie nail. “I’ve never had a man be so attentive toward me.”
