Page 13 of Mafia Priest

Six

Bianca

Cloyingclouds of cigar smoke drift out of the car. Standing on the sunbaked pavers of our large circular drive, I hesitate, scanning the backseat. I’m unsure whether to be worried or relieved by what I don’t find.

Nonno snorts. “Relax, child, the damned contraption is riding with the guards.”

He’d be better off traveling with his oxygen rather than his cigars, but I don’t argue. At least he isn’t insisting on having both in the same car. Sliding into the backseat, I feel a mixture of guilt and excitement at the ache in my bottom.

But when Frankie starts to close the door, I hold up a hand. “Wait! We’re forgetting Elise.”

Ignoring my protests, Frankie slams the heavy car door. The Mercedes starts moving.

“Nonno—”

“Hush,piccolo mia. Your sister is riding with the guards.”

Heart in my throat, I stare out the window, the iron gates and expansive lawns of our neighbors’ estates blurring before my eyes. An eternity seems to pass, but still he doesn’t speak.

He knows.

The thought chills me. Because now thatIknow the truth about Salvatore, or some of it anyway, I understand how much danger he’s putting himself in by getting involved.

Because a priest interfering in a don’s business would be dangerous, yes. But men like Nonno have rules. He would neverharm a priest. Or at least an ordinary priest. But for a made man to do the same would be suicidal. And yet that’s what the man I love swore to do…

Oh my God,doI love him? The truth stares me in the face, undeniable. And yet how can I when there’s still so much about him I don’t know?

But I do—helplessly, irrevocably, totally. Maybe I don’t know everything about his past, but I know what kind of man he is. Or I thought I did. I take my rosary out of my purse, silently counting the beads.

When the car turns onto the tree-lined parkway, Nonno drops his bombshell. “All this praying is just a stalling tactic. You’re planning to leave me, aren’t you? Just like my Evangeline. You want to stomp on my heart and crush it beneath your dainty heels.”

“No, Nonno, of course not,” I protest, stomach churning at his mention of Mama.

He sighs. “My mother didn’t raise a fool, princessa. You spent a long time at the church last night.”

“Father Costa was just giving me advice.”

“Well, yes, that’s what I’d assumed…” A calculating gleam in his eyes warns that I’ve divulged too much. But to my relief, he shrugs. “But why would he have needed to counsel you for so long if you didn’t have cold feet about your upcoming nuptials?”

If he asks again, stick with that—you need to pray on it. Leave the rest to me.

I take several slow, deep breaths. I can do this. Imustdo this.

Chest tight, I twist the rosary around my hand, the pain of the metal links digging into my skin grounding me. “I merely asked him to pray with me, Nonno. I’m still not sure marrying Guido is the right choice. I thought praying with a priest might help.”

“When will you get it through your thick skull that you don’thavea choice? Guido will be the next don.” He shakes his head. “You’ll marry him and let him put abambinoin your—”

He breaks off in a sudden fit of coughing. Alarmed, I take his cigar. Pressing the intercom, I beg the driver to pull over. The car has barely rolled to a stop before Robby yanks open the door. He glances at Nonno, then sprints back to the SUV, returning with the oxygen.

Through the glass, I spy Frankie, his back to the car as he scans for threats. Because this is Nonno’s car, not mine, I’m able to roll down the window. “Take this!” I hiss.

Frankie takes the cigar and walks away. I roll up the window and turn back to Nonno. Thanks to the oxygen, his color has improved, but he’s still coughing.

Taking a water bottle from the chilled center console, I remove the cap. “Drink this, Nonno. Please.”

Robby clears his throat. “So, boss, should I tell the drivers to head back?”

Nonno shakes his head. “And miss Mass? Tell them to drive and tohurryor we’ll be late.”

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