I looked at my wife's beautiful face, letting the tranquility she instilled in me settle into my bones. Then I pointed to the phone. When it started ringing, Marco put it on speaker and placed it under the table.“There,” said a voice, weaker than usual, but stronger than it should have been.— Enzo, come stai ? How are you feeling?— I've never been better, Fausto. But enough about me. I heard you're not well.- I am fine. Stronger than a bull. It's a shame you can't stay longer.- Yes well. Thank you for your generous hospitality. I'll have to see how I can reciprocate.“There's no need for that,” I said. — It was truly my pleasure.— Maybe you can come visit me next time. His wife seemed to like the beach house.I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nostrils. My wife's delicate fingers touched my hand, telling me to stay calm, so I said, “Last I heard your beach house was destroyed.Everything can be rebuilt, don't worry. Congratulations on your wedding, by the way.—
FrancescaI couldn't stop crying.Five of us were gathered in the lobby, surrounded by three suitcases. Fausto was standing, leaning on a cane, with Zia and Marco nearby. Giulio and I stood to the side, near the luggage, and his arms were around me as I sobbed into his probably very expensive shirt. There was nothing more to be said. I had pushed for this result, I hoped it would happen, but it hurt.Giulio was the most composed of all of us, which was understandable. After all, it was his decision to leave. Fausto gave him a choice and Giulio eagerly seized the opportunity. Now he would begin a new chapter in his life as an entirely different person. When he walked out this door, he was no longer the Ravazzani heir. Not a Ravazzani, actually.And I would never see him again.I hated it, but I understood the reasons why he couldn't live happily here. And really, that was better for Giulio, that was all that mattered.When he broke the news to me, I heard the excitement in his voice abo
In fact, I couldn't wait to sit down again. But instead I took a walk around the large hall where the round table was set up. I shook hands, kissed cheeks, slapped backs, and acted like I hadn't almost been murdered three weeks ago. Someone gave me a Campari and soda, and I saw it was Marco. I sent him a grateful look and drank half the cocktail in one go.Inside the room were members of La Provincia , the control council. The only person missing was Enzo D'Agostino. It was smart of him not to show up, because I would have strangled him right away.Finally all the leaders sat down, with our men behind us. I was sandwiched between the dons of Reggio Calabria and Platì, both men I knew well.Pasquale Borghese was the capo crimine, also the diplomat and mediator of the group, which is why he initiated the meeting. — Signori, let's begin, as we are all anxious to return home. Some more than others.— Yes, the ones with girlfriends! — Someone shouted, making everyone laugh.Borghese raised
FrancescaI was worried the whole time he was gone.When Fausto was ready to return, I walked back and forth in the entrance while Nestor leaned against the wall, watching me. He didn't leave my side during my husband's absence, except when I used the bathroom. I knew this was to keep me safe, but I preferred to have Faust's gaze on me.After scolding me for scratching the entrance tile, Zia dragged me into the kitchen to order chicken in lemon sauce and a portion of roasted eggplant. She had a tartufo for dessert, which reminded me of Giulio and our dinner when I was first in Siderno. I started to tear myself apart.Zia shook her head at me. - He is better. He's a good boy, but he never liked this life, not like he should to lead. Your child will take over when the time is right.That was a conversation for another day. There was no way I was deciding my son's fate like that. I didn't care what Fausto said—our children would make their own decisions.“It's the hormones,” I told her.
FaustFour and a half years laterThe door handle rattled, followed by a thud. More rattling.When Marco started to rise from his chair, I raised my hand. “Wait,” I muttered and hid my smile.A few seconds later, my office door opened and the beautiful face of my two-year-old daughter, Noemi, appeared. She walked in like she was in charge. — Papa! Zio Marco! Mom says it's time to come.I pushed away from the table and patted my lap. — Polpetta! I've been waiting for you. Come, give me hugs and kisses.— Oh, me first! — Marco took my daughter before she couldreached the table and turned it around. She screamed in pleasure, her short blonde curls flying.When he pulled her to her feet, she smiled and staggered. - I am dizzy.I gave him a second to get his bearings. — Now can I have my hugs and kisses?She ran over and jumped on top of me, squirming in my lap. Naomi was aggressive and energetic, just like her brother. And your mother, now that I think about it.Noemi stayed on my thighs
I met the devil the morning after my eighteenth birthday. Hungover and tired, I rolled in bed, where my toes grazed warm skin and coarse body hair. A friend of mine threw a graduation party at her pool last night, and my boyfriend, David, slept over. We used to stay at his apartment, but I was too drunk last night and insisted on coming here.It wasn't easy sneaking him into the house under my father's watchful cameras, but I was a pro. I'd been fooling the guards and cameras for years. The one thing the guards loved? Routine. Once you learned the routine, you could bypass it and do whatever you wanted.Dad was the head of one of the seven 'Ndrangheta families in Toronto, a criminal network that stretched from Canada to South America and Italy. My father's business was dangerous, so my two sisters and I weren't raised like normal teenagers. Wherever we went, we were followed by armed guards under their jackets, even to school.That's why I couldn't help but escape occasionally.I was
Walking around, he went to the door, followed by five of his men. "I'll expect you ready, Mancini," he said over his shoulder.Anger burned in my chest. Expect me ready? Like I was luggage? I wasn't being taken to Italy. I was going to college in New York, not marrying a creepy Italian who was definitely in the mafia.When the door closed, I turned to my father. "Dad, what is this?"He ran his hand across his face and slumped into his chair. Uncle Reggie and Dante didn't move, but the rest of my father's men left the room. "Sit down, Frankie.""I'd rather not. I'd prefer to stay until I know what's going on."Dad slammed his hand on his desk. "For God's sake. Just do as I said!"I hated it when he spoke to me so coldly, as if I were one of his men. Dante shook his head, clearly thinking I was an idiot, and Uncle Reggie had his usual scowl. Pushing aside the hurt and confusion, I slid into a chair. "Fine. Now, please, explain what's going on.""You've been chosen to marry Ravazzani's h
I heard David fall to the ground as I opened the door. Marco and Benito, my second cousins, got in, and we drove away, leaving David to find his own way home.I rubbed my chin and looked out the window. Clearly, Mancini had let his daughter run wild. She probably slept with a handful of men. Did I care? While we kept most of our traditions in Siderno, the old way of insisting on a bride's virginity was fading. The ritual of bloody sheets was practically archaic these days.My marriage, twenty years ago, followed all the traditions, the things that were supposed to bring good luck to a couple. However, my bride died after only five years of marriage, leaving a son behind. There was no good luck.I hadn't loved Lucia. We were both young, and the marriage was arranged as an alliance. I thought she understood her role as my wife, tolerating my long absences and the mistress I kept in the city. After all, such things were common in our world. Giulio was born after our first year of marriag