“What about the piano? Do you still play?” she asked quietly.
“Not really. Mom makes me when I visit her, though.”
“Why not? You should. You used to love playing.”
I shrugged, not taking my eyes from the road. “I guess I’ve been too busy for the inspiration to strike me.”
Our private school had the option of piano classes for its students. I had been thrilled at the age of six when I started learning to read music. Ma found some rickety old piano for sale so that I could practice at home, and it became one of my favorite escapes. When my world changed, I quit playing because there was no room for it in my new life.
“That’s just silly. There’s always time to play music.” She spoke under her breath, wiping invisible lint from her lap.
I didn’t respond. What she said was true, but I had no interest in discussing it.
“How’s your mom? She doing okay?” she asked after a brief silence.
“Yeah. After she finally divorced my dad, her life got better. It was a little harder at first, but definitely an improvement in the long run. She moved to Queens and works in a small bakery. I try to help her out, but she’s stubborn.” I’d have forced the issue if Ma was unhappy, but she enjoyed her independence.
“I guess boxing pays well,” she murmured, eyes taking in the premium features of my car. “I never imagined you’d keep fighting. I thought it was some kind of phase or something.” She laid her head back against the headrest, her eyes hooded.
Her words took us both back to the day I broke it off between us. There was a heavy silence in the car, so thick with tension I expected the windows to fog at any moment. Neither of us responded, both lost in our own thoughts. I had no fucking clue how to fix what had happened. Talking like civil adults seemed like a good start, but after that was anyone’s guess.
After several minutes passed, I glanced over to see Sofia’s eyes shut and her lips softly parted in the amber glow of the city lights. The vibrant colors reflecting off the passenger window framed her face, making her look like an image from one of her paintings.
She was absolutely breathtaking—and clearly a bit tipsy.
She’d had several glasses of champagne. Between that and the excitement of the day, she’d succumbed to the lure of sleep. As much as she claimed she didn’t trust me, she was comfortable enough to fall asleep in my presence. That bit of information was far more telling than any arguments she could give. I knew it. Her subconscious knew it. Even her body was still victim to the inexplicable connection between us. It was only a matter of time before her heart followed suit.
She was too peaceful to disturb, so I made my way to the meet site and parked the car in the shadows where the lights wouldn’t bother her. I hadn’t been sure how I was going to explain my errand, so I was relieved she was going to sleep through it.
One of the tasks I’d started to handle as capo was to meet with some of our contacts who kept eyes and ears on the other families. The Outlaws Motorcycle Club had been around forever. We understood the value in maintaining a working relationship with them and several other gangs whereas the old-school mafiosos would have turned up their noses at associating with anyone they considered a thug.
From my experience, the club members varied greatly, meaning some were more tolerable than others. This particular meet was necessary to check in on the Gallo family. After Sal’s little setup made us look like we’d put a hit on one of theirs, tension with the Gallos had been through the roof. Inside the family, we used iPhones and weren’t worried about wire taps, but communications outside the family were best done in person. If we needed information, it meant a trip across the tracks.
I exited the car as quietly as I could, double-checking that I hadn’t disturbed Sofia before walking over to where Preacher and Dutch waited for me. Gabe had brought me along on his last meet to introduce me, and I’d been relieved to find the bikers intelligible, grounded guys as far as I could tell. These situations could be dangerous, so I appreciated having reliable contacts.
The two men stood in their leather cuts leaning against a brick building not far from their bikes. No matter how cold it was outside, you could always count on bikers to display their colors where they could be seen—even if that meant over a jacket or ten different layers. Their culture wasn’t for me. I preferred our more understated existence, but I found it intriguing.
“Preacher, Dutch, it’s good to see you.” I held out my hand as I approached, shaking with Preacher whereas Dutch opted for a casual fist bump.
“What’s happenin’, Nico?” replied Preacher, the spokesman for the twosome.
“Not much. Wanted to know how things were looking in waste management.”
The Five Families each specialized in a distinct field. In some areas, they overlapped, but for the most part, lines were drawn so that boundaries were clear. The Luccianos ruled the construction industry in the city. Early on, the Gallos had cornered the market on concrete, but their main gig was waste management. If you didn’t want your dumpsters overflowing, you needed to play nice with the Gallos.
“It’s been quiet; almost unusually so,” the older man offered in a gravelly voice that could only be achieved with a lifetime of hard living.
“Any word from the old man?” It was no secret that the Gallo boss was a lunatic. He’d been quiet in recent months, but his years of erratic behavior kept everyone wary.
“Not a sound.”
“What about Sal?”
“He’s in the wind. Don’t know what hole he’s crawled in, but it’s deep.” He paused for a second, eyes peering around. “Rumor is the Russians are lookin’ for him too. Sounds like they ain’t too happy with you neither.”
“We’re aware.” I nodded. “Appreciate the information. You hear anything else, you know the drill.”
“Always a pleasure doin’ business with you fellas.”
I could see a smile peeking through his heavy goatee as we shook one more time. As I walked back to the car, my mind was busy calculating the mounting dangers and how to keep Sofia safe. It was a small relief that she would let me near her, but to do a thorough job, I was going to need to stay by her side, and that would not go over well.
When I slid into the driver’s seat, Sofia was no longer asleep. What I found turned my stomach in a way I hadn’t experienced since my sixteenth birthday.
Sofia sat with her knees pulled tightly to her chest, eyes wide as saucers, and her skin completely drained of blood. She didn’t acknowledge me when I got in the car. Her terrified stare was glued to where Preacher and Dutch were mounting their bikes.
“Sof, baby. What’s wrong?” I reached over and turned her face toward mine, forcing her gaze to lock with mine.
She panted in small, shallow breaths—she had to be seconds from hyperventilating. Seeing me helped pull her out of whatever nightmare she’d slipped into, which resulted in a flood of emotion. Her eyes darted around my face, and she reached a shaking hand out like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. An instant later, she launched herself at me, lips colliding with mine. She didn’t just kiss me, she devoured me, hands pulling me close like I was her last meal and she couldn’t get enough.
As much as I wanted to lose myself in her touch, I knew something was horribly wrong, and I needed to address the issue. When her frenzy eased, I delicately pulled myself away, holding her face gently in my palms. “What’s going on, Sofia?” I asked softly.
Her eyes drifted shut, and a look of devastating pain crossed her shadowed features. “They killed him … I just watched, and they killed him.”
What the hell is she talking about? I slid my seat back and lifted her into my lap. She settled easily in my arms, nestling her head beneath my chin.
“Ladybug, I need you to explain,” I pressed, feeling my frustration growing. It wasn’t easy keeping my cool, but right now, helping her was more important than losing my shit. “Who was killed?”
“Marco.” The single wor
d held a lifetime of heartbreak.
It was sorrow and remorse weighed down with a heavy dose of longing.
Though I’d only heard mention of him a few times, I knew Sofia’s brother was named Marco. Considering her despair, I had no doubt that was who she was referring to. Her brother had been killed when she was little, but I had no idea she’d witnessed it.
“Did you see your brother get killed?” It was a heart-wrenching question to ask, but I needed to know.
She sat utterly motionless as my heart pounded in my ears, making each second seem to stretch out interminably. Had I not been so hyper focused on her, I might have missed her tiny nod against my chest.
Jesus fucking Christ.
How had I not known? She’d been wrecked as a child after her brother’s death, but I had always assumed it was her way of grieving. I had no clue she’d been subjected to the trauma of watching her brother die. I tried to remember how it had happened, but I’d been too young, and the incident was rarely discussed.
Then it hit me—she said they killed him.
Had she meant Preacher and Dutch? The kid had died years ago, but it was entirely possible. I hated to push for more information, but I had no choice. I had to know what she’d seen. If she could identify the killers, Enzo needed to know.
Had she been unable to describe them as a child? Surely, Enzo knows she witnessed the incident.
“Sofia, those two men I spoke with … did they kill Marco?”
She gave a small shake of her head. I thought that was all I was going to get from her, but then she spoke in a shaking, childlike voice. “Not them—men like them. Men in vests. Scary men,” she whispered. “We’d gone to the movies, and I fell asleep in the car. I woke up and saw Marco get … shot. My dad … he … beat them to death, I think. He thought I was asleep. I never told them. I never told anyone. Watching you with those men—it was just like that night. I woke up in the car and saw you walking over to the two men in vests. It was like I was living that night all over again.” She pulled back and peered up at me as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. “I was so scared they would kill you too.”
I was floored.
Absolutely stunned.
Not only had she seen the entire thing, but she’d never told a soul. All those years we were so close, and she’d never even told me. I buried the small pang of hurt, knowing her inability to tell me about the incident was more about her own trauma than a testament of her trust in me. My heart shattered for her, splintering into a thousand pieces at the horror she’d had to endure all alone.
“I’m okay, Ladybug,” I reassured her, wiping her cheeks dry just as more tears overflowed. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I had no idea.”
“Nobody does—and you can’t tell them. Promise me, Nico. Promise me you won’t tell my dad.” Her words were suddenly hurried and urgent, making we wonder what on earth she was afraid of.
“Your parents need to know, Sof. Why would you want to keep that from them?”
Her eyes darted around in panic, and she tried to climb from my lap, but I held her firmly in place. “You don’t understand,” she pled, wringing her hands.
“Help me understand. Why can’t your parents know that you were a witness?”
“Because they’d ask questions, just like you’re doing now.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion tensing the muscles in my neck. “What else don’t you want them to know? What secrets have you been keeping?”
Her lips pursed tightly together in staunch refusal to speak.
“Goddammit, Sofia! How do you expect me to stay quiet about something like this unless you give me a good fucking reason?” I lost the tightly held grip I’d had over my emotions. She didn’t know just how difficult a position she was putting me in, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“Is it not enough that I’m begging you?” she asked quietly, eyes pleading in earnest. When she examined the harsh lines of my face and realized I wouldn’t give, she dropped her head back in defeat. “My father is a dangerous man. He doesn’t know that I know. If you tell him, it will open a whole can of worms that will change everything.”
My lungs ceased all movement. Air lodged itself in my throat, and my stomach roiled as if I’d been on an ocean liner in turbulent seas.
She knew.
Had she always known?
All those years we’d lost because I didn’t want her to know—didn’t want that darkness to touch her—had it all been for nothing?
Rage like the liquid magma within a volcano surged up from deep inside me, demanding to be freed. It wasn’t directed at her, but it was there, nonetheless. Fury at the hand fate had dealt us—at no one and everyone all at once. With steel-infused control, I forced my anger deep down inside to be let out at a later time when it wouldn’t fuck up all the progress I’d made with Sofia.
“Okay.” It was the only word I could force from my clenched jaw.
She peered up at me through her lashes, a hint of confusion crossing her face as she chewed on her bottom lip. “Thank you, Nico.”
Unable to resist her sweetness, I pressed my mouth to her forehead, inhaling her delicious scent, using it to help settle the caged beast inside me. “It’s time to get you home.” I helped her back into her seat, and I could feel the questions filling up the growing space between us. She had to wonder why I’d gone so distant—why I hadn’t asked more questions about her father—but she didn’t press for answers. Suddenly, the tables were turned, and I was glad for the quiet.
We made the drive back to Staten Island in total silence. I tried not to delve into the abyss of what-ifs—the infinite number of possible futures we could have had. All I could do was live in the here and now, but even that was a mystery. I was no closer to a solution when we pulled up at her parents’ house than I was when we left Jersey.
I walked Sofia to the front door. She didn’t have a key with her, so we knocked and were greeted by a stoic Enzo moments after.
“I wondered if you two were coming back tonight,” commented Enzo as we stepped inside.
“Sorry, Dad. We had a lot to talk about. I’m really tired now, so I think I’m going to head to bed.”
Enzo’s curious gaze collided with a brick wall when it landed on me. I had no idea what to tell the man, or not to tell him. Therefore, I schooled my features to an absolute vacuum of emotion. His eyes narrowed just a touch, and his chin lifted as he stepped aside to let me escort Sofia upstairs.
I’d been so caught up in debating how to handle Enzo that I hadn’t realized Sofia was taking in our entire exchange. When my eyes finally came to hers, dawning realization dilated her pupils and flared her nostrils. That was when it hit me just how practiced she was at keeping her cards held tightly to her chest. Anyone else who had just connected the dots between her father’s mafia affiliation and her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t have been able to contain their surprise.
But Sofia … her reaction was nearly imperceptible.
She turned toward the stairs and hurried up with me close on her heels, which was good because she attempted to slam her bedroom door in my face. Fortunately, I managed to get my foot through the threshold before it could shut and forced my way inside.
“You work for him, don’t you?” she hissed, chest bobbing with her ragged breaths. “Is that why you left? You chose your career over me?”
“Of course, it wasn’t that simple. None of it was my choice. And don’t you go acting all self-righteous when you were hoarding secrets of your own like a goddamn squirrel getting ready for winter.” I shot back my response in an equally hushed tone, both of us attempting to keep our argument from being overheard.
“Telling you about Marco wouldn’t have changed anything,” Sofia responded. “And it wasn’t my place to tell you about my father.”
“Oh, but I should have told you about him? That sounds like quite the double standard.”
“Not my father. You should have told me about you. You were the one I loved. You shou
ld have trusted me.”
“It had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with protecting you. I told you that already. I wasn’t going to drag you into that world.”
“But you knew—you knew my father was involved and that I was already neck-deep in the mafia, but you pushed me away anyway. Is that right?” Her eyes blazed, and I could feel solid metal doors closing between us.
“I knew your father was connected, yes.”
“So instead of trusting me with the truth, you walked away.” With those words, the locks slid shut. Nothing I could say would penetrate.
“I did what I thought was best when backed into a terrible situation at the age of sixteen. If that’s something you can’t forgive, then there’s nothing else to say.” I turned my back and walked from the room, my heart hardening to reinforced concrete when her voice never rang out to call me back. We’d both been equally at fault for the way our relationship had unfolded, and if she couldn’t see that, there was nothing I could do.
Chapter 11
Sofia
Then
“Three whole months of summer apart, then I’ll be in the high school wing and will hardly even see you at school. It sucks.” Nico took black paint and wrote out the word “sucks” on his blank canvas. Our art teacher had given us free rein to paint during the last week of school after we had taken our final exam. I was happy for any opportunity I could get to paint, but Nico was only in the class to spend time with me. While I worked on capturing the shimmer of stars in a night sky, he was airing his frustrations about our limited time together.
“We’ll find a way to see each other, and there’s a slim chance we could have the same lunch period next year.” I turned on my stool to face him, unable to hide my smile at his uncharacteristic pout.
“Yeah, right. We’d never be that lucky.” Eighth graders rarely had lunch with the high schoolers, but on the rare occasion when a schedule couldn’t be worked out otherwise, it had been known to happen. I was just as skeptical as he was, but I wanted to cheer him up. As the end of school approached, we took turns slipping into bouts of frustration over our circumstances. Today, it would seem, was my turn to cheer on the team.
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