with a tray of food and drinks for us to enjoy while we hashed out the terms and worked on a plan. Adriano licked his lips and went straight for the tray. Nunzio kept his eyes on all of the doors.
“Tell me,” I had said, when I assured him I could deal with the Balistreris, “what is the last term of your deal with them—the one they refuse to agree to.”
“Will you agree to it without question?”
I had narrowed my eyes at him. “Tell me.”
“You will sing for her,” he had said.
Adriano had started to choke on cheese. Nunzio had to beat him on the back, nonplussed by what Giuseppe had just said. It was a tradition in Sicily. The groom-to-be serenades his bride-to-be from underneath her balcony the night before the wedding.
“Serenata,” Nunzio had said, nodding his head.
I had moved the vest, taking out one of my guns from the shoulder-holster hidden underneath. I placed it on the table before Giuseppe and slid it toward him, right next to the ring.
“Shoot me,” I had said in all seriousness. “I will bleed for your daughter, give my life for her. That should be enough for any man.”
The only one who had laughed was Adriano.
Giuseppe shook his head. “For men like you—” he pointed at me “—a bullet is easier than a love song.”
He was fucking right.
“If you do not agree,” he had said, “I will not give my blessing. I will not give my daughter to you without a fight. Even if that means she will go with the Balistreris. For them, this is a business deal, no claim of love. You claim you love my daughter, my bambina. Prove it.”
Angela met my eye and mouthed at me, “Can you sing?” Bringing me back to the time we’d met in front of the church, when she’d said the same thing to me.
All of these fucking tests.
I’d sighed, stood, took my ring and my gun, and left. Which brought me here. Back to the same restaurant—empty of people—sitting in the same seat, Giuseppe in his, Adriano and Nunzio where they had been, and now Nicodemo. The men were placed strategically around the restaurant.
I had dropped Alcina off at her parents’ casa after we arrived from Bronte. I told her to start planning the wedding—it would take place in four days. I even called my grandfather and invited him and my grandmother. He did not ask her name or where she was from, but I could tell he was pleased that I chose someone. The rest didn’t matter to him.
I instructed him not to bring Silvio, and I also told him to stop him from going after the Sicilian girl he had been after to seek revenge for any wrongdoing to his son. She did not deserve the vengeance. We’d talk more about it at the wedding.
Tito Sala and his wife stayed with the women. Fausti men were placed around their casa, since Romeo Fausti had decided to join his uncle. He had some business in the area, and that meant more protection. They were romantic motherfuckers, when they flipped the ruthless side of the coin, and after Tito had told him what was happening, Romeo had agreed to lend some extra protection until I could get back to Alcina.
Giuseppe mopped his head with a handkerchief, watching the door with anticipation. He told me that the Balistreris were getting impatient and that the old man, Eraldo’s father, had sent him to Bronte to meet Alcina. He wanted to remind Giuseppe that time ticked, and not in his favor. Giuseppe paid him to help keep the family safe, but once he agreed to go a step further, to marry Alcina to Eraldo, the old man was understanding of his term, for his son to serende, but not agreeable to it.
That was the only reason Alcina was not married to Eraldo. The old man respected Giuseppe’s traditional side, and he gave Giuseppe until October to come to terms with that not happening.
The thought of mine married to him made me set my glass down harder than intended.
We were waiting for the Balistreris now. Giuseppe had called a sitdown at my request.
I knew it was only a matter of time before Eraldo wanted to meet her. Giuseppe’s hesitation of their meeting, and the price on her head, would only make him more curious about her—was she ugly enough to hide, or more beautiful than he could ever imagine? If he saw her, this would no