Page 51 of Till Death Do Us Part

Hiding would be a more appropriate term for what I’ve been doing.

“Come on, Pippa. I want to hear everything about what you’ve been doing since you got here.” Elisa grabs my hand, pulling me away from Papá and towards one of the waiting SUVs.

“There isn’t all that much to tell you.” I shrug, shaking my head at her eager expression.

“Pish,” she scoffs, tugging me into the car with her. “Bombs, gun fights, and alleyway stalkers. Pippa, that’s hardly nothing.”

Smiling sheepishly, I lift my shoulders before pulling the belt across me. “Honestly, maybe my perceptions have changed since I’ve been here, because all of that just feels normal now. That’s probably concerning, actually.”

She laughs lightly, grabbing my hand and squeezing my fingers. “Maybe a little.”

Huffing, I tug the hem of my black dress down when the material rides up my thighs and sits under the curve of my arsecheeks again—for the fifth time. I should have known better than to let Rosa pick my outfit for the evening when we were shopping earlier, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her no when she squealed excitedly in my ear.

Spending that time with my sisters today, shopping and going for lunch, has felt so normal that I’d give them anything they asked of me to keep the happiness buzzing around me.

Wind slaps against the bare skin of my legs as I wobble on my heels while waiting for everyone to exit the cars. Lights flicker above the Italian restaurant Papá demanded we go to tonight—because eating anything other than Italian in New York is sacrilegious, according to him.

Antonio slides a hand around my back, pulling me against him as he starts towards the restaurant. My skin bristles, my stomach dropping as dread suffocates me. Whenever I’ve been in his company today, he’s played the role of doting husband, for my father’s benefit, though I don’t know why.

Nor does Papá, if the wary suspicion etched on his face says anything.

Which is honestly not surprising since he knows that Antonio and I don’t have a marriage born of anything but duty. While I haven’t told him everything that has happened between the two of us; I have told him that Antonio isn’t a man I could ever fall in love with and that our relationship is purely transactional.

If he knew the truth, I don’t doubt my father would kill my husband before his own life would be taken by Antonio’s men, and that’s not something I’m willing to let happen. It’s easier—and safer—for everyone if I keep my lips closed on the matter.

The restaurant is bustling when we step inside, and I’m grateful for the heat that passes over us as the maître d’ leads us to our table. My father claps his hands excitedly, pulling his chair out with a wide smile on his face.

“You know, this has been my favourite restaurant since I was a little boy,” he tells us as we join him at the table. “Every Sunday, without fail, my nonna would bring me here after mass and we’d have a mini feast.”

“I thought you grew up in Chicago, Darius,” Leonardo comments, leaning over my shoulder to talk to my father. How the hell I ended up sandwiched between him and Antonio, I don’t know.

Clearly my lucky stars aren’t so bloody lucky.

“No.” Papá chuckles, rubbing his hands together. “I’m a New Yorker, born and bred. I only moved to Chicago when I became Capo. And then stayed there for twenty years before moving to London.”

I smile as he continues telling his life story. This isn’t the first time he’s told my sisters and me this story, and every time, it fills my heart to hear of his time as a young boy, growing up in New York City.

“So why London, Papá?” Craning my neck, I look at Rosa on the opposite end of the table as she asks the question. That’s the only part of the story we don’t know. He’s never explained his motivation to leave his life behind in America and move us to London, and given the secretive smile he wears now, today won’t be the day he gives us the answers either.

The conversation goes back and forth around the table, everyone piping up periodically to say their own bits. To be around family again is a momentary fix to all the other drama in my life.

Antonio’s phone chimes loudly, and he steps away without a single word or apology. A waiter sidles up to the table, taking our orders, before rushing off and returning with drinks for us. When I’m taking a sip of my champagne, a warm hand clamps down on my thigh, searing my skin instantly.

“Please remove your hand,” I say to Leonardo, keeping my voice a low whisper so the others don’t hear me. Ignoring my request, he squeezes lightly before his thumb traces the skin at my inner thigh.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

He should tell me something I don’t know.

Of course I have.

And for good bloody reason.

“Why?” he asks, his voice a deep drawl as he speaks only to me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He hums, his hand sliding further up my thigh until he cups me over my underwear. The lace material presses against my clit as he runs his fingers over me, teasing me until I’m writhing under his touch.

The sound of my name coming from Elisa draws my attention, though I can’t focus on what she’s saying as the second she speaks he slips his fingers underneath my underwear.

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