He cleared his throat and took his hand back. He only nodded. I looked between the two of them. After a second, she looked back at me, a smile on her face. She introduced us to Keely, but Keely only waved. She was staring at Corrado, too.
We exchanged small talk. Mari asked about the wedding. I asked about Saverio. Then I asked her where Amadeo was. I could not see Mari here without him. If Corrado was…possessive, I knew Amadeo to be the same.
“Work,” Mari said, but her eyes were on Corrado again. “He’s not far, though.”
“Amadeo,” Corrado said, taking a drink. “He the man with you at the store in Modica?”
“Yeah,” Mari said. “My husband.”
“My husband was the other guy.” Keely pointed to her neck. “The one with the tiger tattoo.”
“Yeah,” Corrado said. “I’m familiar.”
Keely grinned. “Seems it’s a small world.”
“Too small,” Corrado muttered into his glass. He pointed to the area in front of our booth where the men stood. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have business to attend to.”
Mari moved out so he could. There was a moment in time when they were standing in front of each other. She looked up at him and he looked down at her. He nodded at her and went to stand with the men.
Mari slipped back into the booth. She nudged me. “Tell me all about married life.”
“He giving you silvers yet?” Keely laughed into her glass. “Hairs, I mean.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but it seemed like people were trying to move out of the way of oncoming traffic.
“Rocco and Romeo are here,” Mari said, peeking through the wall of men.
Romeo stopped to shake Corrado’s hand. Rocco stood on the other side of him. Rocco looked between the men and our eyes connected. I looked at Mari after a second, not because I was too weak to keep contact. Corrado was watching.
I downed almost the entire glass of water before I set it down.
“Have you tried the drinks here?” Mari said.
“No.” I smiled and touched my stomach. “I don’t think the baby would like it.”
It took a second, but Mari grabbed my hand, squeezing. “I’m so happy for you! Saverio will have a new cousin to play with. Do you have a number? We can make plans to get together more often.”
I squeezed her hand. She had no idea how much that would mean to me. I would not have to be stuck with the women in that house all of the time. We exchanged numbers.
“I need a bathroom break,” Keely said, lifting her hair and fanning her neck. “Who wants to come?”
“Yeah, all of these men in fine suits are crimping my style,” Mari said, sliding out of the booth after Keely did, laughing a little. “Come with us, Alcina. We can talk some more.”
I nodded, stepping out of the booth. Corrado slipped a hand around my waist before I could get past him.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he whispered in my ear.
I put my mouth close to his ear and whispered back, “Bathroom.”
His grip on me didn’t lighten, even when I started to walk away. The heat of his touch still felt like it was burning through the fabric even when his hand wasn’t touching me.
Keely glanced behind her. Corrado was still watching me walk away, another glass of Amaro in his hand. “That was intense. Who’s the guy following us?”
“Nunzio,” I said. “He goes where I go.”
We turned the corner. Three guys dressed in nice clothes were coming too fast. The one in the middle grabbed me by the arms when I ran into his chest. I went to step back, but he held on.
He whistled. “You just getting here or leaving, sweetheart?”
Nunzio stepped closer. He looked at the man’s hands on my arms.
The two men next to the guy holding my arms put their hands inside of their jackets, like they were reaching for something. Nunzio grinned at them and did the same.
A second later, the two reaching for something inside of their jackets put their hands up. The one holding me dropped his hands.
I looked behind, and Corrado stood between a few of his men. He was eyeing the three around me. Just looking at them—it was cold enough to make goosebumps appear on my skin.
“I meant no disrespect, Don Capitani,” the man said. “I didn’t realize the woman was with you.”
“My wife,” he said.
All three of the men’s faces paled.
The tension seemed to grow with every second that stretched. People were no longer moving toward the bathroom, but trying to go in the other direction. Corrado looked at Nunzio. Nunzio nodded in the direction of the bathroom. He wanted me to move. He rarely spoke a word to me.
“Come on, Alcina,” Mari said, taking me by the arm.
After we were done in the bathroom, we promised to keep in touch, because it seemed we both knew my night was over.
The three men were gone after we stepped out. Mari kissed my cheeks, so did Keely, and then they went in a different direction. It was the same direction Corrado was facing.
I turned to look, but like a ghost whose shadow moved along a dark wall, whoever he was staring at was gone—a second after Mari and Keely disappeared behind a door leading to the second level of The Club.
25
Alcina
New York was changing. Leaves were starting to turn different shades from the weather turning crisper—a palette of dull browns, vibrant reds, and yellows that were a throwback to summer.
I was changing, too.
I turned my eyes from the window of the car and looked down at my stomach, tracing the small round bump. From the side, it looked bigger than it did from the front. At my last appointment, the doctor told me that the baby was the size of a lime, and that everything looked bene.
Everything did not feel fine, except for the happiness I felt whenever I thought about the baby, about our future—because I was looking ahead to a different time. A time when things would be different.
After the night at The Club, something in my husband’s eyes changed.
I had never seen it before. It was as if he had gotten an idea tattooed in his head, and he could not separate from it, like he couldn’t separate from his scorpions.
The man he was searching for was the one who had given him the tattoo.
I knew even if he found him, it would not bring back what he lost, or cure the world of anything. Corrado would never be satisfied until he accepted what had happened.
He tried to deny it was about the man killing his father. He said it was about men having respect, and I was sure some of that was true, but the man had spared his little sister. How could he not spare him? It went deeper, and he did not want to face it.
“Rispetto,” I muttered.
If Corrado was anything, he was a man of great honor and respect. He gave it, and he demanded it in return.
That night in The Club had changed more than his obsession with finding the man who had played a role in changing his life.
The morning after, I had walked into the kitchen first, preparing to have breakfast with Corrado before he left for the day. Martina was there spending time with his nonna.
She usually cursed me. This time she called me a goomah. What we called cummare in Italian, which sounded like goomah. A mistress. She started to laugh, but it faded when Corrado walked in right as she said it.
“Jealousy is a bitch,” I said to her. “And so are you.” It was the first time I’d ever responded to her low remarks. Anna told me I needed to put her in her place, or she would never stop. It was the first time she had ever disrespected me in front of Corrado, and that seemed even worse.
“At least I don’t act like a tramp,” she said.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Corrado cleared his throat. “Get out,” he said to her. “Get out and never step foot in my home again. If you disrespect my wife, you disrespect me.”
Martina looked at Teresa. She turned her face away. Martina started to cry,
but she took her purse and left.
I stared at Corrado while he sipped on his coffee. He had been distant after we left The Club, but my instincts told me it was more than just what happened with the man he couldn’t find. It had to do with what had happened with the three men.
They had called me “the woman,” and it made sense after Martina had called me cummare. Those men must have thought I was Corrado’s mistress. The dress I had on. Where I was at such a late hour.
The good wives were home taking care of the house.
One thing I had learned from spending time in this mansion—these women enjoyed gossiping. It was not the first time I had heard about a woman who was not respectable.
“My daughter would not be out acting like a puttana,” Martina had said about a family member’s daughter who was out in a bar acting too freely. A man from the family had to send her home.
Even though this was modern day, to be respectable meant something to these men. They viewed the wives much differently than they viewed the mistresses.
The thought of my husband touching another woman made my blood boil. My mamma always said that jealousy had a shape, and it comes in the form of a vipera. But the poison only destroys the heart hosting it. I was full of deadly poison, but it did not feel dangerous to me—it was him I wanted to hurt when I thought of him hurting me in that way.
“I will kill you,” I said to him. It was plain and simple. In a language he understood better than English. The thought of him having a cummare made me start to burn, like I had never burned before. It was not something I had truly considered, until that moment.
He took another sip of coffee. Then asked his nonna for some privacy. She looked between us before she headed out of the door to her garden, a few women trailing behind her.
He looked up at me. “You’ll get some new clothes today. Most of the ones from Italy are perfect. The gold one—and ones like it—only go on in the bedroom from now on.”
“I will kill you,” I said again, but this time in Sicilian. My voice matched his, nonchalant, but inside, I trembled.
He grinned at me.
I had to squeeze the counter to keep my fingers busy. I was going to throw my coffee cup at his head.
He brought his dishes to the sink, which was next to me, running water on the plate and into the cup. He shut the faucet off. Then he caged me in, one arm on each side of my hip. “Why do you think I married you, angel eyes?”
I refused to answer him until he acknowledged what I had said.
“I married you because you are a respectable woman, and because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. More beautiful than any goomah a man could have. Every fucking fantasy I’ve ever had plays out in our bedroom every night—and every fantasy I’ll ever have will have you in it.
“You are the best of both fucking worlds. A man asks for more than that?” He shrugged. “He’s fucking gluttonous.” He kissed me once on my forehead, once on my nose, and once on my lips. “I married you because I love you, Alcina.”
I refused to respond.
He turned to go, but before he did, I said his name, stopping him. “I will kill you.”
“I’ll give you the knife to carve my heart out,” he said, his tone as serious as mine. “Go shopping and take Brooklyn with you. She’ll be with you and Nunzio from now on.”
I’ll give you the knife to carve my heart out.
Since he would be carving mine out if he were unfaithful to me. Maybe there was such a thing as loving someone too much. His soul tattooed itself on mine the first time he looked into my eyes. It went beyond what the eye could see. It went beyond flesh, blood, and bone.
My mamma always told me that marriage was a merger between two people who had to learn how to create one life together. Give and take being a big part of it. As long as both partners understood that, it would work. I knew how much respect and honor meant to Corrado. So I went shopping. I bought clothes that were a mixture of my life back in Italy and my new life in New York.
I blinked at the brightness of the day and all of the colors, the memory of that morning in the kitchen fading as Nunzio drove us to Bella Luna. Instead of staring out of the window of the car, lost to my thoughts, or at my stomach, even more lost to my thoughts, I looked over at Brooklyn, who was one of Corrado’s cousins and sighed.
She had just graduated from college with a degree in art. Instead of going out into the world, she was stuck with me. Brooklyn came with me wherever I went. She was to make sure Nunzio and I were never alone. At least she told me Corrado paid her well. More than any other job had offered her. The experience would be lacking, but she seemed happy enough.
She flipped through my sketchbook, a smile on her face. “I like this one. A lot.” She held up a rough sketch of a mosaic-tile design I had done for a candleholder.
I smiled at her. I actually liked her company. “Grazie,” I said. “You like them all.”
“I think they’re going to be a big hit! HUGE! I brought some of your sample candles to my friends and they totally love them.” She looked up, her eyes connecting with Nunzio’s in the mirror. Her cheeks flushed and she looked down, a curtain of black hair falling around her face.
I hid my grin, but she kept stealing glances of him. He had noticed. Every so often their eyes would meet in the mirror.
“This is our stop,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
I put a hand on her arm to stop her. The car had not stopped moving yet.
“Ah!” She squeezed my arm as we made our way to the door of Bella Luna. She leaned in closer. “He is fine. I can’t think around him!”
“Always think when the car is moving,” I said. “Or you will fall out of it.”
We laughed as I opened the door to the shop. Brooklyn went in ahead of me and turned on all of the lights.
She spun around. “I love it here! I can’t wait for opening day!”
“Me, too,” I said, looking around. It was a dream come true. I couldn’t wait for the shelves to be stocked and the store to be full of people.
“I’ll go check the backroom. We’ve had some deliveries. I want to check them off my list.” She lifted her phone, waving it at me, before she left me alone.
I sighed. I wanted to keep paper records. I did not trust technology. If it all died today, what would the world do? Be lost. But I would still have my paper trails. I set my jacket over the counter, my sunglasses on my head, and went to the two heads on the wall again. The heads were one of my favorite aspects of the store.
“Alcina?”
“Hm?”
“This is George,” Brooklyn said. “George Halifax. He owns the candy store next door.”
George Halifax stepped forward and we shook hands. “Alcina Capitani,” I said.
“I actually own the company,” he said. “We’re a chain store that strives to be one of a kind. Like this place.” He grinned at me as he stuck his hand in the pocket of his designer jeans. “I’m based in London.”
“This place is one of a kind,” I said. “There are no others like it.”
His grin grew into an easy smile. “You got me there. But I doubt it’ll stay that way for long. I can tell you’re going to have something special here.” Then his eyes narrowed on something behind me.
I almost jumped when I noticed Nunzio. He had stepped into the store and was standing with his back to the wall, watching.
“Well,” George said. “I can see you’re busy, Ms. Capitani. I just wanted to introduce myself. It’s always good to know your neighbors.” He handed me a card from his pocket. “If you have a sweet tooth…drop in sometime. I’m in town for a while. I’m in and out of the store quite a bit lately.”
I lifted the card. “I appreciate it.”
“Does that include her employees?” Brooklyn asked as he walked toward the back entrance again. It did not seem like he wanted to cross Nunzio.
I tried not to grin again when Nunzio moved past me, closer to the back. He was try
ing to see them—to hear their conversation.
He seemed to relax when there were no more murmurs, but then he slipped into soldier mode when a scream to shatter glass echoed around the store. He ordered me to come with him, one hand on my arm, as we both bolted toward the back room.
He released me when we made it to the door. I stood back, trying to avoid the mess—a hundred or more scorpions, scrambling all over the floor, going in all different directions. They had escaped from the box Brooklyn had just opened.
“Do not move,” Nunzio said to Brooklyn. “These are highly venomous.”
Her eyes were closed tight and she was trying not to breathe.
Nunzio scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder, setting me down on the counter. A few seconds later, he had Brooklyn over his shoulder, but he laid her down.
“Did one of them bite her?” I was scrambling to look at her feet, at her legs.
“She told me no,” he said in Sicilian. “She fainted after.”
I did not see any sting marks. Did they leave sting marks? I wasn’t sure, but I thought…I was starting to panic.
“I think we should call an ambulance,” I said.
He nodded, his phone already out. Before he could dial, his phone rang. He did not say a word, only listened to whoever was on the other side of the line.
Brooklyn started to stir, her eyes opening. She groaned. “Did one of them get me?”
“I do not think so,” I said. “Are you burning anywhere?”
“Only my face,” she said, wrapping her arms over her eyes. “I passed out. That’s so embarrassing.”
“We need to go,” Nunzio said, hanging up, sticking his phone back in his pocket. He looked at the floor, where I could see a few of them crawling around. “Stay there,” he told Brooklyn. “I will be back for you.”
She made a shoo motion with her hands, which were still over her eyes. “Trust. I’m not going anywhere.”
He lifted me from the counter, but then he hesitated. He told me to hold on to his back, and after I did, he picked Brooklyn up from the counter, surprising her. He carried the two of us outside at the same time.
Mercenary (Gangsters of New York Book 3) Page 19
