Page 88 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

My stomach clenched, my body bracing itself for bad news. It reminded me of when I learned Papà first had cancer. “Yes, what is it?”

“The numbers I’m seeing in your father’s blood work are concerning. He’s resistant to coming to the hospital, however. So, I’d like to meet with you both and discuss what our next strategies might be.”

“Do you mean a hospital stay to run more tests or to keep him there for palliative care?”

“I don’t want to speculate. That’s part of what I’d like to discuss.”

The lump in my throat grew larger. Dr. Morrissey obviously believed my father didn’t have much time left. We both knew it was the only reason to admit him at this point. “You know why moving him is difficult.” I had confided in Dr. Morrissey regarding my father’s identity when the cancer was first diagnosed.

“Yes, I’m aware. But we must do what’s best for his care, even if there are challenges. If you choose to keep him at home, that’s your decision. But it’s best if we talk through the pros and cons.”

“I understand.” I steadied myself with a few deep breaths. “I’m traveling right now, so maybe a video conference would be better.”

“That works, though I’d prefer in person. But if we can’t, I understand. It’s best to have these conversations sooner rather than later.”

I told him I’d speak to my father about a time, then I hung up. I stared at my phone for a long time, eyes blurry, feeling the weight of it all on my shoulders. I had no answers, no plan. Just the knowledge that I was alone.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Giacomo

Ipoured a large amount of whisky into a glass and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter. Cazzo, I was tired. Over the last few days Zani and I had been searching for any sign of Virga, but no one had seen him. Not along the coast, not in any of his usual haunts. I’d visited every place I could think of on the island, and talked to anyone connected to the capo. No trace of Don Virga existed anywhere.

Worse, the boy at Mirabella, the one fucking my sister? He wasn’t just anyone. His name was Federico Chiellini, and he was the son of another powerful Cosa Nostra family. This meant I couldn’t beat the shit out of him or kill him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Federico’s father had sent the boy to Mirabella eight months ago to get off heroin. Still, I wondered if Virga had nudged Federico in Viv’s direction to seduce her and fill her head with nonsense. Anything was possible. I swallowed half the glass and let the liquor dull my irritation.

If that wasn’t enough, I had other troubles. Emma and I had avoided each other since the night we fucked. She was probably still angry, but I wouldn’t lie to her. There was no chance in hell her uncle would allow Virga’s men to have run of the place without an ulterior motive. And this likely meant Reggie leaked the information about Mancini’s condition to Virga in the first place.

That meant Reggie Mancini was my problem, too.

I finished my drink and went to pour another. Once I had a full glass I checked in the refrigerator to see what Sal left for me. Tagliatelle with bolognese was wrapped and waiting, so I took it out and reheated it.

As I ate, I checked football scores on my phone until it rang with an incoming call.Theresa.I didn’t want to answer, but I owed her an explanation on why I had dodged her calls.

I answered. “Ciao, Theresa.”

“Fucking finally. Why haven’t you called me back?”

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Mi dispiace. I’ve been busy.”

“Cazzata. That isn’t how things work between us. We’ve always been honest with each other. Give me the truth.”

“I . . .” She was right. I couldn’t lie. It wasn’t fair to her. “I am trying to sort things out with my wife.”

The silence stretched frostily, and it was like the air cracked and froze between us. “You’remarried?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Theresa—”

“When did you get married, Mo?”

“A few hours before the last time I saw you.”

---