Chapter 3

GABRIEL

I knew this time would come, the time when I would stand face to face alone with Ricci. I was proud of myself as I stood there outside in the winter garden where I'd purposely gone to isolate myself making it easy for him to follow. After placing little devices where needed throughout Sal's tour, which I recorded with the camera on my watch, I'd gone back to my room to rest and to check up on my handiwork.

Felice and the kids had taken off somewhere, and I knew Sal was in his study with his two sons when I went on my first expedition back to Felice and Ricci's room. If anyone saw me, I could just explain myself away as being lost as it was my first time in this big house, but no one saw me, and I didn't hang around long enough to get caught.

Of course, I could've probably walked in without issue since the whole staff seemed confused by my presence and because no one had kicked me out and I seemed to be Sal's new favorite grandson; who would dare object? But I didn't want any hiccups when the questions started later, as I'm sure they will.

It's all I can do not to rush my hand, not to take them all out at once. But that might be too obvious. Once it's all over and they've all been taken care of, someone might put it all together, but I wouldn't care because I'd be dead anyway. I left their rooms and headed outside alone. I knew it wouldn't be long before curiosity sent Ricci my way.

I've caught him staring at me with interest a time or two, which I ignored. No doubt he's wondering how he could use me for his campaign or whether or not I'd be a stumbling block. On the one hand, he'd try to get closer, and on the other, he'd want to see the back of me as soon as possible. I heard him coming, but did not turn around, did not indicate that I even knew he was there.

My senses alerted me to the fact that there was someone else coming in on the other side, but I did not feel any danger, so I relaxed and let him walk up on me as I gazed off into the distance as if deep in thought. I kept my hands in my pockets to keep them from around his neck and made myself seem as nonthreatening as possible.

"What did your mother tell you about me?" That's what you want to lead with? Okay.

"She told me nothing, only where she came from, and that my father was not in the picture." He looked at me suspiciously, no doubt wondering how Sal knew then. I saw the moment he realized that he was the one who'd given Sal that information. That all Sal had said to him the night before was that he was disgusted by him.

"You didn't tell my father that…."

"Tell your father what?"

"How did you come to be here then if you have not searched me out?"

"I came to find my mother's father. She hasn't seen him in almost twenty years; why? Did something happen between you and my mother?" He studied me as if trying to read my mind! Good luck, better men than you have tried.

"Your mother, she told you nothing about the past?" I shook my head with a bemused look on my face.

"Is there something I should know?" This was even better than coming right out and accusing him. He was flustered, shaken, and I felt safe with the lie because I knew he wouldn't dare bring it up with Sal.

"What did you say to your… to my father? How did you find him if you knew nothing about me?" Perfect question and the perfect way to put him at ease with my answer.

"Actually, he found me."

"What? How?"

"The first time I came here months ago looking for my mother's father. It was the face; he said we look alike, that I look like his father more than anyone."

The dig hit its mark as intended. See, Sal has this weird attachment to his dead father; he idolizes the man even years after his passing. Until I came along, Ricci was the closest in appearance, though from everything I've learned, miles apart in character. But not only do I have this man's face, but I'm also like his complete replica, or at least I've made myself that way in Sal's eyes.

We both know where this is going, Ricci and I, that if I hang around long enough, I can oust him with just my appearance alone because of his dad's obsession. I'm sure he's terrified of what my being here could mean for him and his future, knowing the kind of man his father is. He should be thankful that Sal is the man he is because he'd bought him some more time on this earth, at least. Had I gone with my original plan, he wouldn't even be alive right now.

I'm not dumb enough to indicate that I want anything from Sal or that I was here to rob Ricci of his inheritance, but I know he sees the writing on the wall and that I can see it too. But neither of us would say. Him, because Sal has proven that he'd tear him apart if he dares and I because that would be showing my hand. I'm not supposed to know anything about these people after all, though it's plain to see what they're worth.

"So, why are you so worried about what my mother told me? Is there something I should know? You never answered."

"No, of course not. Ah, how is she? Your mother?" For the first time, I was reminded of what the nun had said that he'd been obsessed with Ma. I'd forgotten that little tidbit, until now, until the look in his eyes when he asked. Deadman walking!

"My mother is very well, happily married to my father and living a life most people can only dream of." You son of a bitch!

"Oh-oh, this is good then. Scusi!" He walked away, looking more nervous than when he approached. I turned to look in the direction of the one who didn't know that I knew he was there, Jr. All I got was a glower before he turned and ran back to where he came from.

I stayed in the garden a few seconds longer, letting my mind settle down before heading back inside. When I got back to my room and fired up my listening device, I was just in time to hear Sal in his study speaking to someone about finding the nun. Apparently, he'd already sent his guys on the hunt, and she was the only one missing.

I'm not sure how to feel about him seeking the truth. Was it for me or himself? He didn't bring up what I'd told him compared to what Felice had divulged. Hopefully, he'd rightfully suspected that Ma had given me the watered-down version to spare me and didn't think I'd outright lied to him.

Next, I switched to the video feed in Ricci's suite, where Felice was pacing back and forth, agitated. Ricci entered the room, and she rushed over to him. "Well?"

"He knows nothing. I think my father tricked us, bastard. He got us to tell him more than he knew."

"I don't understand; what do you mean? And what are we going to do about the American?"

"I mean, he just made one statement, which implied that he somehow knew, but he never said anything more. It was you who told him everything. You stupid bitch!" He raised his hand as if to hit her but seemed to think better of it and lowered it again.

"As to what I'm going to do, I can't do anything right now; my father is so taken with the boy, you've seen him. If I make him disappear, Salvatore Ricci will make my life hell."

"I don't want him here. What if he takes what's rightfully yours, my son's? I won't let that bitch's son take what rightfully belongs to mine." Oh, she hates Ma, still?

"Don't think I don't know you still long for her…."

"Once, I called her name once, many years ago, and you still can't forget." Oh-ho, what's this?

He changed the subject and left me hanging, but she'd given me food for thought. The thought of linking him with my mother in any way, even in my head, is anathema; that's why I've shied away from thoughts of him and what he felt for the girl he demoralized. I guess in his twisted mind; it's some kind of affection; who knows.

If Draco even got a whiff that some man halfway around the world was lusting after his wife, he'd level the whole village. Add the fact that that man is Ricci, and well, he just might bring down the whole island.

I wasn't interested in their marital drama, so I shut it down and went in search of my man Sal. The more time I spent around others, the less chance of being blamed for what I'd set in motion. Sal was only too happy to stop what he was doing and invite me to see the stables. He was even more intrigued when he learned that I could ride, something I knew his son and grandson didn't do because of their fear of horses.

Of course, I rode like his father, according to him, and I was beginning to think that Sal may have regressed into some psychotic drama in which I was his long-gone father returned. Ah yes, reincarnazione. He did use that word the first time we met. It's time to play up that angle to my advantage.

I hadn't seen the girl; maybe my indifference had tipped her off that I was not interested in whatever fantasy she had playing in her head, and Jr. pretty much kept out of my way, except for lurking around corners to watch me. That night at dinner, he wore a sour look on his face when his uncle and grandfather once again made the conversation all about me.

"Uncle Martin, did you know my mother well? Ma hardly ever speaks about her time here in the village. Do you have any stories about her when she was a young girl?"

"Ah, Sofia Antonelli, she was the most beautiful girl here, but we did not move in the same circles, and she was only about sixteen when I went away to college." He had a whimsical look on his face, and I was beginning to wonder if old Uncle Martin hadn't had a bit of a soft spot for Ma as well. This wasn't the first time he'd remembered her fondly to me.

"I didn't see her after that; I don't think. In fact, when she disappeared, there was a bit of an uproar since no one knew she was leaving. Then her father, your grandfather, left not long after, and we just thought they'd moved to the countryside to be with family." He shrugged his shoulders while the two people I was targeting with my question grew tense.

"What about you, Alonzo? Did you know my mother very well? Of course, what am I saying? I'm proof that you did." It twisted my gut to smile at him, but I pulled it off while seething with well-hidden rage. Both Sal and Martin's faces changed, and I deftly changed the subject. I will keep bringing it up, though, so that there's never a chance of Sal or anyone else forgetting how I came to be here.

"So, Jr., how is school?" Now, I know one of Sal's bones of contentions with the boy is his lack of interest in academia and the fact that he fucks off school to get high and drunk with his friends. It's something most teens do back home, not that I ever did, but here, in this throwback to the nineteenth century, it is highly frowned upon.

He wanted to blast me, I could see, but Sal's stern glare kept him in check. Good, I'd stirred the pot enough for one night, I think. But I needed one last dig; I only have a couple more days here after all. "What about you, Felice? Did you know my mother well? Were you friends? I'm sorry, she's just never said anything about her life here. I guess now that we've all met, I can ask her when I go back."

I put enough excitement in my voice to make it believable. I'm just a kid trying to learn anything about my mother's youth. She turned ten shades of white and dropped her fork; Sal changed the conversation.

By the next morning, Felice was acting erratically at the breakfast table, and I saw the first sign of my handiwork. She first doused her face with her orange juice before screaming and pulling at the skin of her cheeks. Everyone looked at her like she was insane, and then she made things worse by jumping up from her seat with a wild look in her eyes as she started snatching up water glasses to douse herself with.

Sal lost his shit and ordered Ricci to take her away while her kids looked on confused. They got up to follow their parents from the room, and Martin soon followed, leaving Sal and me alone at the table. "What was that about do you think?"

"Ah, niputi, I don't know how to tell you. I can't…. I think maybe a guilty conscience is playing with her mind." That, or the neurotoxin from the Gympie-Gympie plant that I added to her face cream, could be at fault.