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“It’s no trouble. I’m excited for you. Tell me about your guy.” Mira smiled.

“Franco?”

“Is that his name?” Mira accepted her hand and led her to the bed in the room where they both sat. Clara stood off, observing them silently.

“Yes his name is Franco Minetti,” Catalina beamed.

“Where did you meet him?”

“The first time I met him was at my christening, Giovanni said he put me in the crib with Franco and even though we were babies we held hands,” she grinned. Mira tried to keep the smile to her face. Catalina placed both hands in her lap and continued with her tale. “Then we met again my graduating year in school at my cousin Aurora’s wedding. It was a year ago. Giovanni said it was okay if I wrote him, so we wrote quite often until I graduated. That’s when Giovanni let Franco come here for a week. We swam, rode horses, and did things.”

“What kind of things?” Mira asked.

“You know, date and things. All of it supervised by Domi of course,” she blushed and looked away.

Mira smiled. “Okay so you fell in love with him?”

“Si.Amore. Giovanni sent me to Palermo, and I got to spend a week with his family. Domi came too. He was right by my side. I hate Palermo. Have you been?”

“No sweetie I haven’t.” Mira glanced over to Clara who continued to watch over them with a critical squint.

“Catalina are you saying this marriage is arranged?”

Catalina frowned at the term.

“I mean was it setup by Giovanni and Franco’s family?”

“Of course. That’s what I’m saying. Signora Clara knew Mama. She has governed our lives always. She is here to make sure we follow the traditions,” Catalina smiled.

“This is something you want?”

“Giovanni said—”

“I’m not talking about your brother. I’m talking about you, sweetie. You are the one getting married. Is this something you want? Marriage is serious and something you should do with a person you love. You do know that don’t you?” Mira asked, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

Catalina looked down at Mira’s hand and then to her eyes. “Why did you ask me that? Of course I know this. Of course I want my marriage! Don’t you dare tell Giovanni I don’t!” Catalina snatched her hand away and rose.

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You think I’m young and stupid and can’t handle getting married?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m thedonnaof this house. Not you! I take good care of Giovanni and Lorenzo, and I will be a good wife to Franco. I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Sweetie calm down. I just asked you what you want. If Franco is who you love, then I’m happy for you.”

Catalina folded her arms and glared. “Franco is what I want, it is what God wants. Don’t you dare say anything different.”

Fabiana walked in with Mira’s sewing kit. “Found it!” she said smiling. Looking at the women she frowned, “Something wrong?”

****

“I took the liberty of ordering. Not big on wine like you and these Italians.”

Lorenzo locked eyes with the large Nigerian seated at the table. The man had skin as dark as coal and a shaved head and face. He wore a stark white shirt that appeared brighter against his skin. Lorenzo found him dining alone in a hotel suite crowded with heavily armed men. He felt no fear. He’d shoot every motherfucker in sight if he had to and walk away from this meeting. It was his false bravado that time and time again proved to be his weakness.

“Why did you ask to meet?” Lorenzo asked.