Page 45 of My Dark Ever After
I cracked a smile even though my mind was reeling. “You think Gemma had something to do with the Albanian Mafia, and that’s why she died?”
“It’s a possibility. The Albanians did business with us until last year, when I decided to pull back from the drug-trafficking game because it was too hot and we have countless other options for investment. When I asked you for help with the shipping manifests, it was to uncover who had taken over their operations in Italy, because we knew whichever clan was involved was likely the same coming after my life and my seat of power. The Greco family also had ties to Venice.” My eyes widened at the link. “Yes, one of the capo’s daughters married into the Tancredi family that rules that city. The Venetian has been terrorizing my organization, and you, for months. When your flat was broken into, they left a winged lion figurine with a wolf in its mouth.”
“The symbol of Venice and the symbol of Rome,” I murmured as the wheels turned. “I don’t suppose the Romano family originated in Rome?”
“Tombola,” he said. Bingo.
“Wow,” I breathed, both fascinated and chilled by the fact that threats and mind games such as these were Raffa’s reality. “So this isn’t just about power, then.”
Raffa tilted his head, a lock of wavy hair falling like a comma across his forehead. My fingers itched to push it off his golden skin. “What makes you say that?”
“Using metaphors, sending threats, going after your girlfriend?” I ticked the items off on my fingers. “It seems pretty obvious to me. They want revenge against you for something.”
The smile that earned me was wide and bright, those sharp teeth glinting. For a moment, I thought he might actually slow clap for me.
“Bel lavoro, Vera,” he praised warmly. “Si, I believe they are after Clan Romano and not me specifically. My father, he was not a good man even by Camorra standards,capisci?Era cattivo. Rotten. He cheatedon my mother, ignored my sisters because they were women, hit me or blackmailed me when I did not obey him. I have no doubt he killed women and children if it could not be helped. It is because of Aldo Romano that there are enemies at the door.”
“What happened to him?” I asked.
Raffa had never spoken about his father before, and it was obvious from the twisted knot in his brow and the bitterness in his tone that he harbored a deep hatred for the man.
“He was killed,” Raffa told me, utterly emotionless. “The Pietra family killed him over four years ago now.”
“So you became capo,” I murmured, trying to reconcile the man who could treat me and his family so kindly with the one who had killed so many men he did not bother to keep track.
Raffa’s mouth flatlined.“Si può fare tutto, ma la famiglia non si può lasciare.”
It took me a moment to translate it because he spoke so quietly, and by the time I did, he was shoving out of his chair to take my plate to the kitchen sink.
You can do anything except leave your family.
I thought about Gemma leaving us for Albania and never returning home. I thought of my dad and mom back in Michigan, separated from me not just by the Atlantic Ocean but also by the sea of lies and secrets stacked up between us.
The phrase seemed entirely suitable for what I knew of Italian families and their makeup, but I wasn’t sure it applied to my own, however much I might have wanted it to.
“For better or worse?” I quipped to lighten the heavy expression crinkling Raffa’s handsome face.
His laugh was a short, bitter bark. “Nel bene e nel male,” he agreed. “Speaking of family,andiamo. Let us enjoy the fine weather and allow me to teach you a little something about wine.”
“I certainly enjoyed the first lesson you gave to me on the subject,” I said, smiling at him as I stood to join him at the front door.
Raffa’s pale eyes burned with intensity at my words, the air between us crackling palpably. I swallowed thickly, wondering why I’d flirted so boldly when I was still so unsure about where we stood.
He’d given me an orgasm with his mouth the night before, and there I wasflirtingwith him like there was nothing wrong between us.
And maybe that was the problem.
There was nothing wrong between Raffaele and Guinevere. It was everything around us, wedged between us, that seemed so insurmountably problematic.
“Those shoes are pretty, Vera, but they will not work today.” Raffa interrupted my reverie to grin down at my sandals before he opened a heavy wood bureau and emerged with a pair of dark-green gum boots. “There will be debris on the ground that you could hurt your feet on, and these offer protection fromvipere.” When I made a horrified face, he grinned. “La vendemmiais not for the faint of heart. You will sweat and toil like the rest of us, and atun lautopranzone, when you are so tired your hands will not make a fist and your back aches, we will all come together to eat the feast Mamma and her friends will spend most of the day creating for us.”
“Who is looking after the kids if everyone is out working?” I asked as I undid my sandals and took the socks and boots Raffa handed to me.
“They are with some teenage cousins, playing their own games in the areas we have already harvested,” he explained. “Sometimes they want to help, but really they only like to play in the vines and feel like they are taking part with the rest of their family. Delfina always sets aside a few of the grapes she will use for the family’s table wine so that the young ones can stomp them with their feet. It was a tradition we did as children, too, with our uncle Tonio’s wife.”
“That sounds like fun, if a little unsanitary,” I admitted, and watched Raffa’s ruddy mouth bloom into a bright smile.
“In order to have fun, we must get a little dirty,” he teased me before offering his hand. “Come, Guinevere, let me watch you fall evenmore in love with my country. It reminds me there is more to love than hate here, especially with you to share it all with.”
