Page 21 of Mafia Priest

Deciding I can change her mind later, I grind out a frustrated, “Yes,” before releasing her. Crossing the room, I open the door.

“Jesus Christ.” Moretti steps into the office. “The don’s already in the dining room, and if I don’t show up with Miss Mancini soon, Rob’s gonna send out a search party.”

“Distract Nonno, Father,” Bianca says, a note of steel in her voice that I’ve never heard before. “I need a moment alone with my guard.”

Nine

Bianca

When the conventbells summon the sisters to vespers, I drag my suitcase out from beneath my narrow cot, removing the items concealed in the lining. A photograph, a phone, and a letter.

Phones aren’t permitted in the convent—although the Mother Superior has one. And she made an exception for Salvatore when Nonno demanded it, claiming 24-7 access to him was a necessity.

My secret burner phone is a necessity, too. Plugging it into its charger, I turn it on. And then I wait.

The sun sets slowly in the summer here, so I don’t bother to turn on a light. But the minutes crawl past, shadows dancing on the walls, and I nearly reach for my rosary out of habit. But I haven’t genuinely prayed since arriving here—only going through the motions if the sisters are watching.

Instead, I reread the letter. The letter I found thirteen years ago but was too young to understand. The letter I’ve never shown anyone, not even Salvatore. I hate keeping secrets from him, but he’d try to stop me. Later, I’ll need his help, but this is my score to settle.

Well, not literally. I learned many things watching Nonno. How to project strength and make men obey with a single look. How to bargain and blackmail. And how to arrange a hit.

Folding the letter, I turn to the photograph. In the half-light from the setting sun, I can almost see the blood soaking the cathedral’s stones. It’s funny—when I was a child, I loved the cathedral. It reminded me of family, and I was too young to understand what my family really was, too young to know the difference betweenmyfamily and la famiglia.

But now I know there isn’t a difference. Know that if I’m going to take my place in this world, I must protect what’s mine—avengewhat’s mine.

Holding Salvatore off has been tough. If he had it his way, both Nonno and Guido would already be dead. But I’ve learned that I can get him to swear to anything when we’re making love—and for the past ten days, he’s kept his promise. Well, he hasn’t taken me ineveryroom of the convent yet, but he will if we remain here much longer. Yet if Frankie comes through, he won’t have the chance. We’ll be returning to New York, where the truly difficult work will begin.

Not that this part has been easy. Salvatore won’t let me stall forever. His impatience grows daily. But I’ve convinced him that as long as I’mhere, as long as my marriage isn’t imminent, it’s better to let his brothers and Frankie put out feelers, figure out where the loyalties of Nonno’s capos lie and determine who’s useful and who’s a threat.

The burner phone vibrates. Glancing at the screen, I smile. It’s done.

* * *

Just before daybreak,he comes for me. When he knocks, I’m already dressed. Suitcase packed. Opening the door of my small cell, I grab his hand to drag him inside so we can make love before the breakfast bell rings. “Daddy.”

“Not now, baby.” He frowns but doesn’t pull away. “The Mother Superior is waiting for you.”

Even were it not for his tone, his appearance suggests something’s off. He’s neither shaved nor bothered with the white clerical collar. Yes, it’s early, but that’s whisky on his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I study his face, wondering whether he already knows. He must. His brothers would have called when the story broke.

Thanks to my secret phone, I’ve been following the news all night. It’s thrilling. My hit has gone viral—mostly due to a clip worthy of Hollywood, courtesy of a well-placed security camera.

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer, but finally, he sighs. “It’s best if you see for yourself, angel.”

Expression grim, he pulls his hand away. I hate it, but it’s necessary. The sisters would freak over us holding hands.

As I follow him along cloistered walkways, it hits me—my act has been too good. He thinks I’ll be upset. Haven’t I been begging him to “spare” Nonno for nearly two weeks? As far as he knows, this will be a terrible shock.

I feel a pang of remorse. Not over what I’ve done, but because I’ve kept it from him. The deception was necessary, but for the first time, I realize how it might look through his eyes once I confess.

And I will confess. I meant what I said back in Nonno’s office. Without honesty, it isn’t love. But willhestill love me once he discovers I’m not the innocent angel he thinks I am? Sick with guilt, I nearly tell him everything, but I force myself to remain silent. It will be easier for him to act naturally if he’s still unaware of my role.

When we reach the Mother Superior’s office, she gestures for us to sit. Turning to Salvatore, she addresses him in Italian, not realizing that since coming here, I’ve practiced constantly—both with my new friend Rena and Salvatore. So when she asks if I know yet that Nonno is dead, he winces and shakes his head.

Eyes wide, I step into the role I’ve been rehearsing all week. “What about Nonno?”

“Your grandfather had a terrible accident,” she says in English. “He’s with God.”

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