Page 63 of Of Grief And Gratitude

After the service, Ettore took his position at the rear of the building with the family trailing behind so attendees could offer their condolences. Two women huddled around Mia, holding her as she tried to control her tears. One bore a strong resemblance to the Neretti men with her dark hair. One of the sisters, I assumed. The petite blonde next to her had similar facial features.

Romeo stayed rooted to his seat as people filtered from the chapel to another room for the following reception. He stared at the empty casket at the front of the sanctuary, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Romeo,” I whispered, leaning close. “They’ll be expecting you at the reception.”

He turned, looking at me as if seeing me for the first time. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs. “Right.”

I stood and offered my hand, but he braced himself on the pew in front of him and rose, moving stiffly after being still for so long. He motioned for me to go first, and I followed the direction the others had gone to find the reception room. The halls of the church were quiet, and the murmurs from the large room were subdued. I couldn’t help but think that had Antonella been there, she would offer that soft smile of hers to those saddened by their loss.

Romeo halted just inside the doors, scanning the room and moving toward his brother Niccolò and the women I’d seen from earlier. The dark-haired woman hugged him tightly, whispering something in his ear before pulling back.

“I’m Bianca,” she said, dabbing a tissue under her eyes and offering me her other hand. “You must be Riona.”

“I am,” I confirmed, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry to meet you under the circumstances. Your mother was a wonderful woman.”

She offered me a watery smile and nodded. “Yes, she was.”

I looked at Romeo, but he’d walked away toward the refreshment tables. Bianca motioned to the blonde standing next to her. “This is my sister, Coletta.”

“Nice to meet you.” I inclined my head and smiled when she didn’t offer me her hand.

“My mother told me about you,” Coletta said quietly. “Thank you for being there for my brother.”

“Of course.” I didn’t feel like I’d done enough for Romeo, but it was nice to hear her kind words.

I turned to see Romeo pressing a flask to his lips and tipping it. Niccolò caught it, whispering something to Mia and skirting around the edge of the room. He reached for his little brother, took his arm, and pulled him to the side.

“He’s taking it hard.” Mia sniffed and wiped her eyes with a tissue.

“How are you doing?” I asked, remembering how she’d shown me kindness the first time we’d met.

“Not well.” Her voice hitched, and she cleared her throat, attempting to smile. “I lost my mother and father when I was young. Antonella took me in as her own. I never thought I’d lose her, too.”

She ducked her head to hide her renewed tears as Niccolò returned. He hugged her tightly to his chest, and I looked back to Romeo’s sisters because the moment seemed too intimate to witness.

“You live in Miami with Colin, right?” I asked, trying to distract myself and the other women. Bianca had married the oldest O’Connor boy. He’d lived with his father for a few years, but I’d never known him well.

“Yes,” she answered. “He’s around here somewhere with our daughter, Ilaria. She was fussing.”

“Where do you live?” I directed the question toward Coletta.

“New York.”

“Do you like it there?” I felt ridiculous for asking such asinine questions. She’d just lost her mother.

“It’s fine.” She shrugged. “My husband is the head of the Agro family.”

Her eyes darted around the room and settled where Ettore and Dante spoke with two men. One with black hair was taller than Dante, massive, in fact. He dwarfed the others around him, especially the other stranger. The blonde man was what most would consider wide-shouldered and fit, but he looked small beside the others.

Coletta nodded in their direction. “That’s him.”

“He’s huge,” I blurted without thinking, and Niccolò chuckled.

“Not him,” Coletta quickly clarified. “The other one.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“That’s Daemon DiSanto,” Bianca spat, crossing her arms and glaring at the large man. “I don’t know why he showed up.”

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