Mercenary (Gangsters of New York #3) - Bella Di Corte Page 0,91
staring at me.
“This life is romanticized a lot,” she whispered. “But it’s a little different when you’re the one in the story, am I right?”
“How did you know?”
She shrugged. “I hear things. I know things.” She toyed with her napkin for a second before she looked me in the eye. “My dad was…connected to that life, at one time. I was only five, so I don’t remember much, but he worked for the Scarpones. He tried to kill his boss. From what I’ve learned, Arturo Scarpone was greedy, and he was barely paying the men, even though he was making a lot.”
She waved her hand. “Anyway. My dad would get ideas in his head, or so I was told, and once they got stuck, he couldn’t get them out. He was so focused on killing Arturo that he basically ran us into the ground. My entire life up until I met Amadeo was spent in hiding.” She sighed. “So I understand, whatever you’re going through, more than you know.”
We both became quiet. She had her thoughts and I had mine.
“Alcina…” She hesitated. “Did Amadeo tell you that about me?”
“No,” I said. “He does not talk much.”
We both grinned.
“He doesn’t,” she said.
“It’s familiar, though. I have heard similar stories. One as fresh as just a few minutes ago.”
“Ah,” she said. “Brooklyn.”
I nodded.
“There’s no room for family in that life,” she said. “Only the family, and basically nothing else. It splits actual families apart.”
“Your mamma…she left?”
“Yeah.” She took a sip of her water with lemon and then set it down. “Arturo had her killed.”
I grabbed her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back.
A knock came at the door. We both turned to look when it opened. I sat up straighter in my chair when Rocco walked in.
“Mari.” He nodded. “Alcina.” His eyes lingered. Then he cleared his throat when he looked at Mari again. “Would you mind giving Alcina and I a moment alone?”
Mari nodded. “I’ll check on the girls at the bar.”
I wanted to look at her, to narrow my eyes and shake my head, because I did not want to be alone with him, but I did not want to make it obvious. I was not afraid to be alone with him—I had been before in Modica—but I did not think it was appropriate. However. What the Faustis wanted, the Faustis got. I suspected that was why Nunzio had not stepped into the room.
The door closed, and instead of taking Mari’s seat, he took one on the edge of the table, one leg dangling. “You look beautiful, Alcina,” he said. “Marriage and motherhood suits you.”
“Grazie,” I said, picking my glass up, taking a sip, trying not to look at him too long. But again, trying not to make it obvious.
These men, like my husband, were not ordinary. Subtlety was an art form to them. If our eyes lingered for too long, he would think I was interested or challenging him. If I blatantly looked away from him, he would either think I was being rude or I was interested again but did not want to show it. Either way, it was a fine line.
“What is your daughter’s name?”
“I thought you would know,” I said. “You seem to know everything.”
“I do,” he said. “I want you to tell me.”
“Eleonora Lucia Capitani,” I said.
He repeated her name, without her last, pronouncing it perfectly. “I am sure she is as gorgeous as her mamma.”
“Listen,” I said, this time looking him in the eye. “I do not have much time. What did you want to speak to me about?”
“I wanted to make sure you were happy,” he said in Sicilian. “I have always cared about you.”
“I am,” I said. “So even though your concern is appreciated, it is wasted.”
We stared at each other, before I slowly broke eye contact and took another drink of water. Some of the women in Modica said that the color of his eyes was stolen from the Sicilian sea, right when the sun starts to sink into the horizon. But he was looking for his great love. He would not find it in me. I did not have it to give to him. Never had.
He laughed, and it was raspy and quiet. “You’ve always bitten back,” he said.
I looked up and he winked at me. He stood from the table and started making his way toward the door. He stopped when he got there. “Have you seen Amadeo since you arrived in New York?”