is denying the attack, then it might become a war amongst you and some of your men, Don Corrado.”
“It will be,” I said, noticing how he had used a formal title to address me. “This is unforgivable.”
He stared at me for a long minute. “I knew your grandfather a long time,” he said. “He was my friend. Personally, I take this to heart. But. You must weigh the outcome with the price of war. You will win, but at what cost?”
“I will consider it.” I lifted the folder. “Tell me more about Macchiavello’s. Who was my grandfather going to see.”
“There is much more to the story, but all I can tell you is this—the man’s name is Mac Macchiavello. He owns the restaurant.”
I watched him for a minute. He was unassuming by looks alone, but when pressed, his eyes became hard, and there was no budging him. Even though he didn’t shy away from recommending war, he was also a peacekeeper. He had boundaries. We all respected them.
“He spoke to my grandfather?”
“Sì,” he said, and it was clear he would say no more.
“Tell me one thing, old man,” I said in Sicilian. “Did the meeting have to do with the Scarpones?”
“Sì,” he said, and then made a motion with his hand, as if to say, no more questions. His silence on the matter spoke volumes. Why didn’t they want me to know more?
He changed the subject. “I believe this is a reason why the commission is not acting as they usually would. After the death of Arturo Scarpone, his son, and his sons, they are missing a boss right now.”
A knock came at the door, and Dr. Valentina Abbruzzese stuck her head in. “Signor Capitani,” she said. “Your wife would like to see you.”
I nodded, giving Tito the folder back so my wife couldn’t see. Though she put up a strong front, she didn’t belong in this life. She wasn’t fucking expendable, not like most of the men considered the goomahs.
She was the one I’d sacrifice it all for. She was the one I’d die for.
The room was dark, the lights dimmed. There were no windows, and for good reason: the enemy couldn’t blast through the glass if they were on the hunt for retribution.
I took the seat next to her bed, noticing her rosary placed across her stomach, and then took her hand. She had burn marks in numerous places, bruises coming up in purple and black patches, and four stitches above her right eyebrow.
She tried to get more comfortable in the bed, to face me, and her breath hissed out after she moved too fast.
“Don’t move,” I said squeezing her hand. “I can see you.”
She grinned, but it was weak. “I cannot see you. Not like I want.” She moved slower this time, and then finally, she released a slow breath. We faced each other.
She ran her hand up my arm to the row of stitches I had. Her mouth moved like it did when she sang, silently, no words coming out, just her lips moving. She was counting my stitches. Seven.
“Corrado—”
“It was close, Alcina,” I said. “Too fucking close.”
She nodded. “It happened so fast,” she whispered.
I watched her face until her eyes met mine. “Tell me to leave,” I said. “Tell me I’m no good for you. Tell me you’re going to get hurt because of me. Tell me all the fucking things you should have said to me the first time you saw me.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” she said, her tone turning bitter.
“It was. I should have kept you in Sicily, where you were safer.”
She shook her head. “They were looking for me, too. They have always been looking for me.”
“I should have killed Silvio and Junior myself. I should have gone back to New York and taken care of it.”
She studied my face for the longest minute of my life. “Then you would have died,” she said. “And what about me?”
“You would be safe.”
“I will never be safe—with you or without you,” she said. “You are my life, Corrado Alessandro Capitani. No matter what happens, my life belongs to you, but my death has been set before I was even born. I refuse to allow you to take responsibility for something that has never been yours, and will never be, unless you kill me with your own hands. And that would mean I did you wrong—with another man—and I will never.”
“I’m fucking selfish by nature,” I said. “I wanted you no matter what the cost,