Page 102 of Righteous Deceit

I know I will have to get used to being in what we once deemed a rival territory without my men. I can’t exactly turn up to dinner with the in-laws with three men who stand guard as Anna Greco asks me to pass the potatoes. I orchestrated this union, so somewhere in my mind, I believed Diego to be trustworthy. My instincts don’t tell me I’m wrong. But it’s not Diego I’m worried about. I make a mental note to speak with Salvatore about our ability to spare one or two men for my own assurance when I’m in New York.

Hours pass, and aside from the few people I’ve already met and Diego’s parents, I can’t recall a single person’s name. Drinks flow, and the food is endless. My face hurts from smiling, and my body protests with exhaustion. My legs feel heavy, and I have to blink to offer my eyes a sliver of reprieve.

Anna pulls me toward a group of women who have easily polished off five bottles of champagne in the time we’ve been here. I let her introduce them, forgetting their name the moment she says it.

“Can you believe it, ladies? Female hierarchy in the family.” Anna is preening, and so caught up in bragging that she doesn’t notice the irritated glare of the women I can’t be certain she counts as friends.

I change the subject, complimenting a dress or set of earrings as I make small talk to remove the animosity shooting through the group. Tensions ease, and I sip my wine slowly.

“So, Alessia,” one of the women says. “Any immediate plans for you and Diego to start a family?”

I’m not quick enough to hide my shock, placing a hand over my mouth to excuse my unladylike cough.

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised.” A woman to Anna’s right laughs.

“Diego’s young,” another woman comments.

“He is,” I agree.

“But you’re almost forty?”

In moments like this, I envy the way men deal with conflict. First, I could guarantee that notoneperson has questioned Diego on our plans to start a family. Second, no one would be brave enough to comment on his age for fear of being disrespectful. He is a capo. I am a consigliera. But as a woman, I’m expected to hold myself in a more dignified manner. I let my mind wander to an alternate reality where I could pull out a gun and shoot the bitch between the eyes.

Instead, I smile. “I’m thirty-five.”

The woman next to me nudges me. “That body clock would be ticking. You don’t want to be a geriatric mother when Diego looks as good as he does. Your body won’t bounce back as quickly as it would’ve when you were your husband’s age. You’re a voluptuous woman; pregnancy isn’t always kind to women with meat on their bones.”

I now understand Anna’s need to flash me as a commodity in front of these women. They’re vultures. The kind of women who insult others to make themselves important.

I glance around the room. “Vincent,” I call out, and he frowns, turning away from his conversation with his father-in-law. “Could I trouble you for a moment of your time?”

The women around me look among themselves, discomfort creasing around their mouths as Vincent Ferrari moves toward me cautiously. Vincent holds a very particular reputation across all Mafia families. He spent most of his career as an enforcer. One that, by all rumors, very much enjoys bloodshed and suffering. He now sits beside Lorenzo as his consigliere, but his reputation precedes him.

“Yes?” He speaks directly to me when he reaches the group, ignoring everyone else.

“We were just discussing the viability of procreation in our senior years. You’re thirty-five?”

“Nine.”

I nod. “Hm. A little older than me. Christina, was it?” I touch the arm of the woman who felt the need to lecture me on my body.

She nods but doesn’t speak.

“Christina was warning me about the very real threat of being a parent when you have amuchyounger spouse. I thought rather than her having to speak to you separately about it later, it would be easier to include you in the conversation now. These kind women would like to know your sperm count levels, you know, considering your body clock is also ticking.”

I sip my wine, ignoring the way Christina’s face turns bright red.

“No. I… I didn’t mean…”

“You’re not used to having female leadership in your outfit. I came here hoping to have a conversation with you ladies to get to know you better at my mother-in-law’s request. Don’t ever mistake my approachability or kindness as a weakness. You wouldneverspeak to one of my male counterparts the way you did me because you know that your husband would pay dearly for your indiscretion. I am no different, and I would have no problem letting a bullet find residence in your husband’s kneecap right now, or yours, for that matter. It’s the advantage of being a woman. The mafiosos you’re used to…” I gesture toward Vincent, who has a sinister smirk pulling the corner of his mouth. “They despise violence against women. I have no such boundaries. Disrespect me again, and you’ll learn that the hard way.”

“Of course,” Christina rushes out.

“As a matter of fact,”—I raise my voice—“should I hear any of you discuss anyone’s body or fertility journey without their explicit permission, you will become acquainted with me in a way you don’t want to.”

I turn away without another word and storm toward the kitchen, but Leonardo hooks his arm in mine, maneuvering me outside without conversation.

Fresh air hits my face, and I breathe it in.

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