Page 106 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“That I was only trying to make her feel better, and when I said I hoped to meet her in person one day, she said that was impossible. She told me to take care of you and rang off.”

Propping his hands on the counter, he leaned over and stared hard at the marble. When he said nothing, I blurted, “She talked in past tense. It really worried me. Maybe I had trouble translating, though, because she talks really fast. I’m so sorry. I never should have answered the phone.”

Zani walked in. “She’s still not picking up. The guard says she’s been in her room all day.”

“Does he have eyes on her?”

“No, so I told him to check on her and ring me back.”

“I swear to Christ, if he has—”

Zani’s mobile rang and his olive skin paled as he listened. “Start looking!” he snapped into the phone. “We’re on our way.” When he disconnected, he said to Giacomo. “Her room is empty.”

“Motherfucker!” Giacomo grabbed my empty granita bowl and hurled it against the wall. It smashed into a hundred tiny pieces and rained down on the tile. I jolted at the loud noise, both guilt and shock stunning me into silence.

Giacomo started toward the door, his attention on Zani. “Let’s get over there. And while we’re driving, get Don Chiellini on the phone. I want to know where this Federico piece of shit is.”

“Wait, Giacomo!” I called before he disappeared. “Please, explain what’s happening. Is she missing?”

My husband didn’t turn around, instead speaking over his shoulder. “I don’t have time right now, Emma. I’ll be back later.”

Then the two of them were gone, leaving just me, Sal and a pile of broken glass.

Leaning forward, I covered my face with my hands. I hated this feeling, not knowing what’s going on yet feeling responsible.

“It’s okay,” Sal said gently. “He’ll sort everything out.”

“What is there to sort out? I’m lost.”

Sal winced. “Your husband should explain—”

“Sal, please. I’m dying here.” I wasn’t used to causing trouble. I was the one who solved problems, not created them.

He studied my face for a long moment, then spoke quietly. “She suffered as a young girl. Her father . . . mamma mia, he was hard on her. He was hard on the boys, too, but they were different. Viviana wasn’t built to take such cruelty. She was kind and sensitive, much like you, signora. But Don Gero tried to toughen her up.” He sighed. “It took a toll on her. Giacomo tried to protect his sister, so he would take on more to spare her. Capisce?”

I swallowed and nodded. My sweet husband. He’d taken Viviana’s punishments.

“You, Emma Buscetta, are my reward for the cruelty and misery I endured in this house.”

“What happened?” I asked. “When did it stop?”

“Eventually, Giacomo got stronger, bigger. Became a fighter. Then Don Gero went into hiding and Nino took over the responsibilities of the business.”

“So what happened to Viviana?”

Sal pushed off the counter and started to turn. “I should let your husband—”

“No, please.” I grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. My tone was desperate. “I won’t tell him you said anything, but I have to know what happened.”

“Giacomo faked his sister’s death. It was the only way to get her away from Don Gero and this life. So he boxed to win prize money, which allowed him to afford her care in a facility where they treated troubled teens. When she grew older she moved to Mirabella, which is for adults. And now you understand. Giacomo would do anything to protect her.”

Viviana’s words from earlier echoed in my head.“Everything is my fault. It’s always my fault.”She was Giacomo’s weakness, and Don Virga had used it against him. And now she was missing because I couldn’t let a phone go unanswered.

Moaning, I leaned my head onto my folded arms on the counter. “God, I feel terrible.”

“Do not worry, signora. Giacomo will find her. Even if he must turn Palermo upside down to do it.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

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