Me: Please. I just want to talk to Adriana.

Benito: Call the home phone.

Me: No, I need to see her.

Benito: Dammit, Elena.

Me: Ple.. . .

Benito: Fuck. The things I do for women.

Relief filled me, and I sucked in a breath.

Benito: Is Ace there?

Me: No. Just Luca.

Benito: Make sure you ask him.

Me: Yeah, I know, Benny.

Benito: Don’t Benny me. Be there soon.

I took a cup of coffee to my room and waited for him to arrive. When I got a text saying he was waiting out front, I hopped up and headed downstairs, only to find Luca and Isabel still preoccupied. It’d been a good twenty minutes, at least. I hesitated. I couldn’t stay here for another second, but the thought of confronting either of them made my stomach dip.

I found a piece of paper and wrote a quick note that Benito had picked me up and I was going home for a couple hours. My hand faltered on the word home. I didn’t believe I thought of my parents’ as home anymore, but today the last place home felt like was here.

I left through the front door since Benito waited on the street, but that wasn’t only it. I didn’t want to use the back door in case Luca would hear. An awareness itched in a corner of my mind that he might not let me leave, and that wasn’t an option. My heart beat with uncertainty as I let the screen door shut with a quiet click.

I climbed into the passenger seat.

Benito was sending a text, probably to some unlucky lady. He was a sight for sore eyes, and for some annoying reason tears began to well.

“I gotta tell you about this one, Elena,” he said, tossing his phone in the center console. “Blonde, tall . . . and these legs. Damn.” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger in the “perfect” sign and looked over at me. His hand dropped, and his expression darkened. “What did that asshole do?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, wiping my eyes. “I’m just being a stupid girl.”

His gaze narrowed. “Elena.”

I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He smelled like hundred-dollar hair gel and his signature cologne. “I don’t know how you get any women with how much cologne you wear. Could smell you from a mile away.”

He hugged me back. “Makes them come in droves.”

“Thanks for picking me up.”

His arms tightened around me. “If he hurts you, you’ll tell me.”

It wasn’t a question, though it felt like one. We both knew there was nothing he could do if it came down to that. Nobody meddled with a man’s wife or relationship in the Cosa Nostra. It wasn’t anyone’s business, regardless if he was abusive.

“I’ll tell you, but he hasn’t.” I pulled back and put my seatbelt on.

“So, what is this?” He wiped a tear off my cheek with a thumb. “Period shit? Aunt Flo in town?”

I laughed. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, cuz. Let’s go home.”

Home.

It didn’t feel right when he said it either.

OceanofPDF.com

“If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they’d immediately go out.”

—William Blake

THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK’S TICKS AND tocks filled the silent room.

Mamma took a sip of wine and stared at me.

Nonna sat on the adjacent couch, watching me like she knew I’d had mind-blowing, premarital sex last night.

I flushed.

She smiled like a cat.

“Have some fruit salad, Elena.” Mamma set down her wine glass to push a plate across the coffee table. “I just made it last night.”

“I’m not hungry, Mamma.”

Both of their gazes widened as though I’d confessed I wanted to join a convent. I suddenly regretted not accepting the salad.

My mother placed a hand on her chest. “I knew that Russo was abusing her.”

I sighed. “He’s not—”

“Please,” Nonna scoffed. “It looks consensual enough from where I’m sitting.” She observed me like someone would a bride in an off-white gown.

“Nadia,” Mamma scolded. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, it wouldn’t be. You’re the biggest prude on this side of the Mississippi.”

“He’s not abusing me, all right?” I crossed my legs in discomfort. “I’m just not hungry.”

Mamma didn’t look like she believed me, and my grandmother’s expression softened as well.

“You’re always hungry,” Nonna muttered.

“Am not,” I replied like a two-year-old.

Mamma shook her head. “We should’ve never let this happen.” She pushed the plate closer to me. “This is the worst thing your papà has ever done.”

I raised a brow. The worst?

Nonna harrumphed.

“Nobody cared when he handed Adriana over without a second thought.”

“Of course we cared,” Mamma said.

“No, you didn’t. I distinctly remember you telling me to ‘trust my papà.’”

“Adriana would have been fine. You—” she cut herself off.

“Me, what?” I said calmly, though my cheeks heated in frustration. They didn’t worry about Adriana because they thought she could handle herself. They didn’t think the same of me.

She pursed her lips and nudged the plate. “Why don’t you eat the salad?”

“For the third time—I’m not hungry.”

“It’s the depression,” Nonna whispered to my mamma.

I exhaled. “I’m not depressed.”

“Then eat the fruit,” Mamma suggested.

“Yeah, cara mia. You need to eat the fruit. You’re too skinny as it is.”

“She’s not too skinny,” my mamma said. “She’s just right.”

Nonna eyed me with a frown. “She’s all boobs and nothing else.” Then muttered, “No wonder that Russo’s so hell-bent on having her.”

I scoffed. “If I were depressed that wouldn’t be a comment that would help.”

They both watched me like I’d just admitted I was depressed.

Mamma jumped up and shoved the plate closer. Another inch and it would be in my lap. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”

My teeth clenched. “For goodness’ sake, I’m not going to eat that stupid salad, Mamma.”

“We can’t help you if you don’t help yourself,” Nonna mumbled.

I rubbed my temple. “Why don’t you think I can take care of myself? I can be just as assertive as Adriana.”

“Of course we know that,” Mamma said a little too quickly. “But maybe you’re not as emotionally . . . stable.” She closed her mouth like she realized that was worse than saying I wasn’t as assertive.

“Keep digging yourself into a hole, Celia,” Nonna muttered, taking a sip of coffee. “You’ll be to China in no time.”

I blinked. “Emotionally stable?”

Mamma played with her jacket zipper like it had suddenly become interesting. “Maybe that was the wrong term.”

“Please, Celia, do explain yourself,” Nonna urged with a grin. “I’m on pins and needles.”

“All I meant to say is that you’re softer than your sister . . . more docile, and a man like that Russo would abuse it.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but then realized she might be right. It was suddenly clear to us all that I’d lasted not even a week with Nico before I’d come home without an appetite.

“Simply put,” Mamma said, “we don’t think the Russo is right for you.”

“We?” Nonna’s brows pulled together. “Who’s we? Don’t put words into my mouth.”

I laughed, though I wasn’t amused in the slightest. “I didn’t believe he was right for me from the beginning, but it didn’t matter. ‘It is done,’ as Papà said.”

Mamma frowned. “Your papà doesn’t act like he wants this marriage. He’s been in a mood all weekend.”