longer be about business, but something more personal. He would want her.
That eleven-year old girl in my pocket looked nothing like the woman who stood before me in the pistachio grove.
The door opened to the restaurant. All heads turned but Nicodemo’s and mine. I picked up my glass, took a sip, and then set it down, fixing my vest after. I was used to a suit.
There were eleven of them. The old man and his son took the center. The muscle protected the hearts. Three of the men stood at the door, blocking our exit, and there were probably more placed around the building.
Nicodemo grinned, his teeth bright against the tan of his skin. He thrived in this atmosphere.
So did I.
I always reacted accordingly. The main thing about these sitdowns, especially with men who were old school, was respect. Anything less wouldn’t be tolerated.
Giuseppe’s seat was at the middle of the table, separating the two sides—a representative of his daughter.
I nodded at the old man, addressing him only. “Grazie,” I said, “for agreeing to this meeting today.”
He nodded, picking up his drink, and took a sip. His eyes never left mine.
Nunzio stared at me, and I gave a subtle nod. He translated my words so the famiglia couldn’t argue that something was lost in translation. The old man hated me on principal, and I could feel it, so I would make sure there were no “misunderstandings” at this tavolo.
“I called this meeting today because the deal between your famiglia and the Parisi famiglia has been broken. There will be no wedding between your son and my wife.”
Giuseppe’s mouth fell open. He looked between us, as fast as his daughter blinked when she was attracted to something.
Nunzio translated again.
The old man stared at me, his eyes even harder. He knocked on the table once, twice, three times, and then all guns pointed in our direction.
Adriano had his gun out before they did. He was as quick on the draw as he was with snatching a piece of food. That was why it was wise to never judge a book, so to speak, by its cover. There was a legitimate reason why he was sent with me. He would take four of them out before a bullet would touch him. Nunzio had his gun pointed at the old man, his main job to destroy the heart before the muscle destroyed me.
Nicodemo still had a grin on his face—the men at the door wouldn’t know what had hit them. He was eager for it, already scenting the potential for bloodshed in the air.
Every word that I spoke, Nunzio translated, even if I would speak a word or two in Sicilian.
“You are a businessman,” I said to the old man. “We can either do business, or—” I shrugged.
Giuseppe made the sign of the cross, kissing his fingertips, which came together after.
“We will see her,” the old man spoke in Sicilian, and Nunzio translated.
To see what the fuss was about. I shook my head. “The only person you need to see is me.”
The old man held my stare, which was unyielding, as I took a drink, just like he had done. The ice clanked in the glass; the amber moved and then slid down my throat like spiced honey.
One of the old man’s men had an overachiever finger. He pulled the trigger, barely missing me. The sound of the blast seemed to echo in the room like a war drum.
Adriano had shot him before the bullet even made it past me. It stuck in the wall. Giuseppe turned to stare at it, shaking his head.
I set the glass down, still keeping eye contact, waiting for the moment of truce or catastrophe. I was prepared for both outcomes—if we stepped over the line of business into personal, we would all die at this tavolo. It would no longer be old school anymore.
Finally, the old man lifted his hand. I gave a subtle nod. All men lowered their weapons. Nicodemo stopped grinning.
“Business,” the old man said in Sicilian. “What do you suggest?”
“Money,” I said. “An absurd amount. For your loss, of course.”
He grinned at me, and then we made the deal.
15
Alcina
“What is that noise?” I asked.
Mamma and Anna were sitting with me on my old bed, going through old photographs, drinking chianti, and laughing at the amount of lace and silk I’d gotten from my female cousins at my party.
Mamma and Anna glanced at each other, and then they both smiled in unison.
“Go see, mia figlia.” Mamma