by K. A. Ware
“Why not?”
“What if your father finds out I took a book from his library? I need this job; I can’t just go borrowing things.”
I laughed and shook my head at her. “You’re not borrowing the silver; it’s just a book. If someone asks, tell them I lent it to you.”
“I’m not even supposed to be talking to you.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you’re d—,” she stopped short and let out a cute huff of exasperation. “Because I’m just a housekeeper; I’m here to do my job, not make friends.”
“Then it will be our little secret. Take the book, Elena. I want to know what you think when you’re done,” I said, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear.
“Okay, I’ll read it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That you read something I bring for you.”
“Done.”
Her smile was radiant. She’d given me a forced polite smile before, but the way she looked at me at that moment was perfection. It was exactly what I wanted.
I’d have to be careful if I was going to get her to trust me. She was a skittish thing. It would be a long process, but in the end, she would be mine.
I caught Elena on the way out of the library a little over a week later. She stopped and reached into her bucket of cleaning supplies, handed me the book, and pushed past me without a word.
“Wait,” I said, reaching out to stop her with a hand on her arm. “Are you gonna tell me what you thought about it?”
Already out of the room, she glanced furtively down the hall before turning back to me.
“Look inside,” she whispered and detached herself from me, moving quickly toward the front of the house. Confused, I opened the front cover to find a note written in neat script.
V,
It's taken me several attempts to get my thoughts about what I felt reading this book on paper. It was beautifully written, but it left a sadness in my heart that I cannot explain. There was so much pain and anguish between the pages; my heart ached for the family and those that loved them. I found myself having feelings of sympathy for the murderers, maybe not for them particularly, I should say—but more for their souls. I found myself hoping and praying that they had repented and achieved absolution. I'm not sure what kind of person that makes me, but it's the truth all the same. While it was indeed fascinating as you'd promised, I can't say that I enjoyed it. I feel like that would do it a disservice to the nature of the story. Instead, I will simply say that I was intrigued from the very first page to the last.
Please let the next book you choose for me have a happy ending.
-E
I read the note several times before folding it and tucking it into the pocket of my trousers.
She wanted more.
Smiling to myself, I turned to search for her next assignment, hoping to find something that would give me a better insight to who she was beneath the quiet exterior.
Chapter 3
Marsala, Sicily
January, 1974
Elena
E,
Meet me at our spot tomorrow at noon; I have something for you.
-V
I lie sprawled across my bed re-reading the note Vincenzo had slipped me earlier that day. It was brief and to the point—just like him—but it still made my heart flutter. Over several months, we’d exchanged so many books I’d lost count.
Our spot. He’d called the little bench under the branches of the lemon trees in the garden our spot, and it was. Every chance we could, we’d meet in secret to discuss books, life, family, our hopes and dreams, and it was beautiful. I could listen to his voice for the rest of my life and never grow tired of it. We’d gotten to know each other through our shared passion, and I’d begun to feel as if I knew him like I knew myself.
Growing up, I’d had my little sisters to take care of, and it didn’t leave much room for close friends. Vincenzo was my escape, the one thing I held on to purely for myself. I didn’t fear him like I had when we first met; instead, I found myself drawn to his charismatic smile. Mama had warned me that he was just as dangerous as his father, Giuseppe, but she didn’t know him like I did. He was a good man, with a kind heart and a mind full of dreams and aspirations that I couldn’t help but find becoming my own.
Slipping out of the side door, I walked calmly through the garden until I hit the tunnel of vines that led to our spot and broke into a run. I rushed forward, catching a branch in the face as I rounded the corner.
“Sorry I’m late,” I huffed, falling onto the bench beside Vincenzo.
“I thought you were going to stand me up,” he said with a smirk
I laughed. “Never.” Laughing came easy with him; there was something about him that made me feel light, carefree even. When I was with him all my worries seemed to fall away; he put me at ease—as if he could protect me from anything. I felt safe with him.
“Have you read Catcher in the Rye?” he asked, producing the book from behind his back.
“No. It’s by an American author, right?” I questioned. Vincenzo had yet to disappoint me with his literary choices. Each book he gave me was better than the last, and I found myself itching to flip through the pages.
“Yes, JD Salinger. You’ll like it, I promise.”
“I trust you,” I said, too quickly. Feeling the blush starting to rise in my cheeks, I turned away. I didn’t know what it was about him that made me blurt out whatever thought popped into my head, but it never failed to embarrass me.
“I’m glad,” he said softly, taking my chin in his hand and making me meet his eyes again. “I brought you something else,” he said, pulling out a single red rose, the stem cut short.
I gasped in surprise. “It’s the middle of January; roses aren’t in bloom yet. How’d you get this?”
“I have my ways,” he smirked again.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, reaching out to take it from him.
He dodged my hand and leaned into me, slipping the flower behind my ear. “Beauty for beauty,” he said quietly.
Pulling away only slightly, he looked into my eyes and my breath caught. Our faces were only inches apart, and I wanted nothing more than for him to close the distance and finally kiss me. His eyes flicked to my lips and after months of toeing around the tension, I watched as he slowly leaned in, ready to make my fantasies a reality.
“Vincenzo!” Donatella’s voice called out, bursting our private bubble and roughly pulling me back to reality.
I jumped up from the bench quickly, my eyes scanning the garden for his sister. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her. She continued to call for him.
“Vincenzo, where are you?”
I looked back at him in a blind panic; she couldn’t find us together. It would be disastrous. Donatella wasn’t like her brother; she was cold and distrusting. And she hated me. I wasn’t sure when it happened, but she’d moved from icy indifference to full-on loathing. To my knowledge, I hadn’t done anything to offend her; but according to Vincenzo, I didn’t have to.
“She can’t find us,” I hissed, my fear causing me to shake.
“Relax, I’ll take care of it,” he whispered. “Go around the fountain and in through the side of the house; I’ll head her off.”
“Okay,” I nodded and turned to leave, but he caught my arm.
“Meet me tomorrow, same time?” he asked, his eyes imploring me to say yes.
I let my smile answer for me before I turned in the direction he’d instructed. I couldn’t help but look back when I reached the tall hedge that led to the fountain. He was standing where I’d left him, watching me. He nodded once and took off in the direction of Donatella’s voice.
Chapter 4
Marsala, Sicily
April, 1974
Vincenzo
I paced the small patch of grass in front of our bench as I waited for Elena to meet me. Things were moving quickly now; I’d spent the past few y
ears learning the business at the feet of my father, and I was finally getting my chance to play a larger role.
My father had called me into his office earlier that morning to inform me that I would be going to Palermo with him the next day to meet with Carmine Caputo. Caputo headed up one of the largest crime syndicates in Sicily, second only to the DeLucas. The two families had been at war for over a decade, and it was finally time to talk peace.
“Is everything okay?” Elena’s sweet voice asked, stopping my incessant pacing.
“Elena,” I breathed and rushed toward her. She welcomed me with open arms, but that wasn’t the embrace I was looking for. Instead, I took her face in my hands and kissed her with the intensity of all my worry and anticipation.
Her hands sifted through my hair as she returned the kiss, a soft moan escaping her as I slid my tongue past her lips. I had to force myself to break the kiss. She wasn’t ready for the things I wanted to do to her, and I’d been careful to take things slow. She was a good girl, and one day, if everything went according to plan, she’d be a good wife.
“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly, our foreheads pressed together and her face still captured in my hands.
“It’s finally happening,” I whispered.
“What is?”
“Come, I’ll explain everything,” I said, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bench. “I’m going with my father to Palermo tomorrow to meet with Carmine Caputo.” My excitement was hampered by the look of worry that passed over her face.
“Caputo? As in…”
“Yes, we’re going to talk about peace between the two families.”
“Vincenzo, what if this is a trick? I read about him in the papers; he’s a dangerous man.”
“So am I.” She looked taken aback by my statement, almost as if the thought hadn’t even registered in her mind. “I know we haven’t talked much about the business, but Elena, you know what my family and—by extension—I’m involved in. We need to do this, for both our sakes; we need to find a bridge to bond the two families and end the bloodshed. If we keep going at this rate, there won't be anything left of either family to pass on to the next generation.”
“I know it has to end, but what if they see the opportunity of having you and your father in the same place as a way to take you both out?”
“There will be assurances in place, no need to worry about my safety.”
“Assurances?”
“Yes. Elena, this meeting is going to be good for all of us. Trust me,” I said, cupping her cheek.
She leaned into my touch and closed her eyes. “I do.”
My chest swelled at hearing her say those two words. She didn’t know it, but I planned to have her saying those words again very soon, only in a church in front of God and everyone else. Then she would finally be mine, and no one would dare try to take her from me.
“You will keep your mouth shut until you are addressed directly, do you understand?” my father asked as we rode to the hotel where we’d be meeting Caputo and his men.
“Yes, sir.”
“I will not have you fucking this up for me with that damn temper of yours,” he reminded.
“Yes, sir,” I repeated, briefly wondering about what he expected me to get angry.
My father was a cold and calculating man. He’d taught me from a young age what it meant to be loyal to our family. I’d spent years working up to this point when I was finally trusted enough to sit at the table with him. Even though my sister was older, she was never an option when it came to running the family business. It was always me. But that didn’t mean I didn’t need to prove myself, and my father hadn’t made it easy on me.
I was on high alert when we pulled up in front of the Grand Hotel et Des Palmes in the heart of Palermo. We were traveling with two other cars: one in front of us and one taking up the back. We already had men in place at the hotel and a few stationed across the street. Carmine Caputo was known for unique and unexpected attacks; we weren’t taking any chances.
When we exited the car, we were greeted by two of Caputo’s men who led us through the lobby of the hotel and to the private room where the meeting would take place. Carmine was standing in the middle of the room, flanked by a dozen of his men when we entered. Before any pleasantries were exchanged, we all placed our weapons on the credenza by the door and were patted down by his men to ensure no one was hiding anything.
Once it was confirmed that everyone was clean, my father and Carmine greeted each other as if they were old friends. It was strange. To my knowledge, they hadn’t met peacefully before this meeting. My mind immediately started to wonder, thinking up any explanation as to why they seemed so familiar.
Maybe it’s just the way these things go.
I hadn’t been invited to a meeting of this caliber before, so I didn’t have a frame of reference; still, I was uneasy with the situation before me. I couldn’t help but wonder if my father had been keeping something from me.
The rest of the men were dismissed leaving only Carmine, his second, Stefano, and my father and me. Carmine looked older in person than I’d expected. His skin was sunken and leathered—a long scar bisected his left eyebrow, giving proof his life was not always one of ease.
“Vincenzo,” Carmine addressed me. “It’s good to meet you finally; I’ve heard so much about you.”
Not knowing what he had been told, I shook his hand and nodded. “Good to meet you, sir.”
“Please, call me Carmine. No need to be so formal, especially not after today,” he said, leading us to a circular table.
His comment caused me to pause; we were here to broker peace, yes, but something in his tone made it seem like he was in on a secret I was not privy to.
“As you know,” Carmine continued once we were all seated, “we’ve come here to solidify a plan to end the violence between our two families. The problem we have here is that a truce must have trust to work. Something that, given our pasts, is hard to find.”
“The solution we’ve come to,” my father said, picking up where Carmine had left off, “is that we needed to find a way to join the two families.” My hackles immediately rose; everything about this meeting seemed too rehearsed. They both seemed to be addressing me instead of each other. I felt sweat start to bead at my temples.
What the fuck have these two done?
“And how are we going to do that?” I asked, finding my voice. I wouldn’t show weakness, not when they were both clearly enjoying my confusion.
“Well, I have a daughter around your age,” Carmine said simply.
The world stood still, and ice filled my veins. They couldn’t do this to me.
“You will marry Luciana and bring our two families together,” my father said, confirming my fears.
“An arranged marriage?” I asked. “You can’t be serious.”
How could he do this to me? I’d had a plan; I already had a wife picked out. I’d only been waiting to get my footing in the family before I made my move.
“No need to worry; my daughter will make a fine wife. She knows what to expect from this life, and she won’t cause you any problems.”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, barely holding on to my temper by a thread.
“Not if you don’t want to offend me and ruin all the work your father and I have done to get us to this place,” Carmine said, narrowing his eyes at me. His thinly veiled threat did nothing to calm my anger.
“This is your duty, Vincenzo. Besides, she’s a beautiful Sicilian girl who’s grown up around men like us. She knows her place. I couldn’t have picked a better bride for you.”
Elena would have been better.
The thought of the beautiful girl I’d left behind in Marsala ignited my anger all over again. I wanted to scream, flip over the table, and tell them all to go to hell, but I couldn’t. No matter which way I played it out in my head, I’d end up starting a war and most likely get myself killed in the process.
“When?” I as
ked, my anger evident, but that was to be expected. I doubted either of them were expecting me to be happy about the plan.
“June. We’ll have the wedding at the estate. It’ll be the biggest event Marsala has ever seen,” my father announced proudly.
For the first time in my life, I wished I were someone different. Someone who had the freedom to do what they pleased, instead of being a slave to my family. No matter how much I wished it didn’t, my duty to my family came first—there was no other option. My happiness was of no consequence; progress was the only thing that mattered.
“Do I get to meet this woman before the wedding, or are we both going in blind?”
“Of course, I brought her with me,” Carmine laughed and turned to Stefano. “Bring her in.”
We all sat in silence as we waited for my future bride to show herself. I hadn’t even met her, and I hated her. How was I supposed to marry her?
“Ah, there she is,” Carmine announced, standing to greet a petite woman as she entered the room. “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Luciana.”
When I didn’t say anything, my father stood. “Carmine, why don’t we go have a cigar and let them get acquainted,” he offered.
Carmine stared hard at me for a moment before turning to my father. “Of course.”
The door clicked behind them, leaving nothing but silence. I stared at the table in front of me trying to keep a rein on my anger. I didn’t trust myself to say anything yet. I heard her take a seat at the table across from me, and I finally pulled my eyes away from the crack in the table to look at her.
Carmine hadn’t been lying; she was beautiful—she just wasn’t who I wanted. Her eyes were too light, her hair too curly, her lips too small, her body too thin, and she wasn’t Elena.
“I’m Vincenzo,” I said, in way of greeting. Someone had to break the awkward silence.
“I know,” she said briskly. Even her voice wasn’t right. It was steely and cold, where Elena’s was soft and warm.
“How long have you known about this?” I asked, hoping we could at least find some common ground. By the way she was looking at me, she was about as happy with our situation as I was.
