not realizing that there was no cost. There was never a cost. Not when it comes to you.”
“Are you leaving me?” she whispered.
“I should. I should make sure you’re safe, and will be, and then leave.”
“Go then,” she said, trying to point to the door, her hand tugging at the IV, at mine, but I refused to let go. “Go and never look back.”
I sat there, not moving, and she moved her lips, silently daring me: go.
“I refuse,” I said, squeezing her hand even harder.
“That’s because I will never let you go,” she said, her voice hard. “No matter what you do, I will always be there with you. Even if you can’t see or touch me. It will be much worse, because you will be in love with a ghost that refuses to leave your side. I will haunt you while we both still breathe.”
“You’re the strongest fucking force I’ve ever known.”
“I know,” she said. “Because you love me. That’s what love is. Una forza da non sottovalutare.” A force to be reckoned with.
I brought her hand up to my lips, kissing her cold fingers.
“Even if you would have tried to leave, I could have stopped you,” she said.
“How?”
“Have you ever heard of the game Italian Roulette?” She made sure to pronounce the last two words correctly.
I looked into her eyes as she smiled at me. They crinkled on the sides. It brought me back to my time in Forza d’Agrò, when her mamma asked me if I could sing.
She reached for something that was tucked into the side of the bed. After she had it, she shook the silver thing at me. It was a baby’s rattle. Her bag hung on the edge of the seat I had taken next to her bed—she had demanded that Nunzio get it before we left, or she was not leaving—and he must have stuck it inside of the bag when he noticed it floating toward the shore.
“Game over,” she said, laughing some. “The house wins. You are going to be a papà.”
21
Alcina
The doors to the plane opened. Corrado stepped out first, giving me a hand down the stairs.
I was thankful that I had chosen to wear one of the designer dresses we had bought in Milan. It was a classic long-sleeved dress with a red rose print set against black velvet fabric. It ended above my knees, and I wore a pair of black knee-high boots with it. My hair was done in a center-part chignon, and I wore a pair of dangling cross earrings to match the dress.
I wore the dress because it had some stretch around the waist. Even though I wasn’t showing, I wanted to be comfortable. In this instance, though, I was thankful for comfort and style. The dress matched the color of Corrado’s suit. Black with a blood red tie. He said it was his grandfather’s favorite color.
It was fitting for a dark king about to return to his bloody throne.
The men who waited for Corrado all wore suits. They judged me behind dark sunglasses that they thought hid their eyes as we made our way closer. I did not need to see their eyes to feel the weight of their stares. Like his grandfather, they were all sizing me up to see if I was worth the title.
The new Don’s wife.
It had nothing to do with attraction. It seemed to have more to do with this life, how I would withstand it next to my husband.
Also like Corrado’s grandfather, it did not seem like these men were expecting me.
I lifted my chin, my eyes appraising them from behind the over-sized designer glasses I wore. I could size them up, too.
“Don Corrado,” one of the men said, stepping up.
Corrado released my hand as the man offered his and they shook. The man kissed each of his cheeks and offered condolences for the loss of his grandfather. Corrado nodded and thanked him. As we made our way to a waiting car, each man did the same.
Another man stepped out of a waiting black Cadillac, leaving the door open. He was older, perhaps around Uncle Tito’s age, with the same pure silver hair, but this man had ice-blue eyes.
He greeted Corrado by squeezing his shoulder. They both turned to look at me.
“Uncle Carmine,” Corrado said, pulling me closer to his side. “This is my wife, Alcina Capitani. Alcina, this is Uncle Carmine.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you finally,” he said, taking my hand in a gentle way. “The