“I’m sorry it took me a while to return your calls. I was at church,” I inform him.
“It’s okay. You’re here now, my love.”
My love? I was under the impression the engagement was off. Rather than keep my distance and take the armchair farthest from both men, I cross the room and press my lips to Alexander’s cheek.
“I’m not keen on surprises, but I find myself eager to hear what yours is.”
It’s a lie that rolls so easily from my tongue. I do hate surprises, and I’m not eager to hear what his is.
He sweeps his hand out toward the priest. “I’d like to introduce Father DiMarco. He’ll be taking over Father Antonio’s role at St. Mary’s until the Vatican sends us someone more permanent.”
Keeping my smile in place, I cross the room and shake the man’s hand. Inside, I’m seething. Alexander must’ve known he would take Antonio’s role before the funeral, yet he said nothing.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Father.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Camarco, I assure you.”
He gestures for me to sit across from him, and to keep the peace, I do.
“Mayor Salvatore has been filling me in on your wedding plans.”
That’s funny, because I haven’t made any. And I told Alexander I would take care of them. Maybe he can fill me in too regarding the murder of my friend. “I’m embarrassed to admit, I’ve fallen behind with the plans.”
“No, Jamila, don’t you concern yourself with it. From now on, I’ll handle the wedding plans. I’ve hired an event organizer to come in and take the pressure off the both of us.”
Ignoring Alexander, I ask the priest, “Will you be here long enough to conduct the ceremony for us?”
Sitting forward, he places his now empty wine glass on the small table and stands.
“I’m not sure, but it will be an honour if I am.” He glances at the clock. “I’m afraid I must be on my way.”
I remain in my seat as Alexander sees him out. When he returns, he takes the priest’s seat on the couch, and I can see that his mood has shifted.
“I believed you when you said you had no part in the bombing of St. Jacobs, but the amount of bodies dropping dead on my streets is too many not to have been ordered by you, Jamila. And with DeLuca’s death and you hurting, I’m expecting many more murders before the storm passes. Am I right?”
Crossing my legs, I rest my hands on the armchair, deciding to take a different approach where this man is concerned.
“You know yourself, for us to live in peace here, in Vita, either Raphael or myself have to die. Since you’re planning to marry me, I’m guessing you wouldn’t want me to be the one on the losing side. Tell me, Alexander, if Raphael were to show up dead, how much investigating would occur?”
“Does it matter? Everyone would know it’s because of you.”
“Could you live with that? The people of Vita thinking your wife is capable of such atrocities.”
“Mila, let me stress to you, they already do, yet I still agreed to marry you. If, and I mean if, Raphael was to show up dead, then of course I’d pay my respects at his funeral, but life would go on, and we could finally establish order on the streets.”
“Then for the time being, don’t ask me any questions. Keep the chief of police away from my door and expect the streets to be extra brutal.”
Plans change all the time, and my plan with the mayor is no different. Before, I chose to marry him to keep him from raining hell down over my family if one more person in Vita died because of us. And now it’s shifting to keep him on my side while I carry out the unlawful acts of murder.
“I could be of help, Jamila. Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m going to be truthful with you as my future husband. The men who are loyal to my name know they could die at any moment. The men who work for you, don’t. Anyway, it’s better that the mayor knows nothing.”
“Very well, but I’m here if you need me.”
Like that will ever happen. The day I need him will be the day I put my gun to my own head and squeeze the trigger.
Chapter Seventeen
Jamila
Feigning exhaustion, I made my excuses at dinner and slipped up to my room, making it an early night. My father was