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Paloma slid out of her chair and stood. “Because like I said, she and I are similar. And you can’t force things right now. Intime she’ll be willing to hear you out. Retreat so you can live to fight another day.”
“I can’t. I won’t abandon her, even if she doesn’t want me here.”
“That is a mistake. And not like you. Where is your legendary patience?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from snapping at her. Patience? Was she kidding? I could barely breathe knowing Maggie hated me. The knot in my chest wouldn’t ease, and I had to fix this before it was too fucking late. “What of the Red Raiders? We let them get away with burning the vineyard?”
Her lip curled, like she’d ingested sour wine. “Of course not. We kill every single one of those motherfuckers today.”
My mobile buzzed on the table. It was Enzo, my older brother. Thank Fuck. He must be calling with news of the bikers.
“Stay here,” I ordered Paloma, then tapped the glass. “Enzo, what have you?—?”
“Roberto Mancini is dead.”
Everything inside me stilled as that news sank in. I knew it would happen eventually, had prepared for it, but I hadn’t expected it today. Toronto was my territory. I would be expected to honor Mancini and play host to all the other families. I dropped my head into my free hand. “Cazzo madre di dio.”
My brother grunted. “Exactly what I said when Gia got the news from Frankie a few minutes ago. If you were at home, I assume you would’ve heard first.”
I needed to rearrange everything. The troubles in Paesano, the Red Raiders . . . Maggie. I had to put all of this on hold and deal with the funeral first. “I’ll fly to Toronto immediately.”
“You better,” Enzo said. “Because you’re about to have a lot of fucking house guests.”
twenty-four
. . .
Maggie
A knock soundedon my bedroom door. Ignoring it, I continued to scroll on my phone, looking at vacation homes in Scotland and Ireland. The south of France. Anywhere that wasn’there.
Though it was now afternoon, I hadn’t been able to get out of bed today. My life imploded yesterday, so I felt justified in telling the entire world to fuck off.
“Maggie?”
I expected Massimo, who’d stopped by no less than five times between last night and today, but it was my brother. “Go away,” I mumbled and bookmarked an old crumbling French castle with a small vineyard in the back.
The knob turned and the door opened. I glared at Mikey from over my shoulder. “Do you mind? I didn’t say you could come in.”
My brother shut the door and shoved his hands into his jeans. “Maz said you haven’t eaten all day. And you’re supposed to meet with me and Carlo in an hour.”
I faced away from him, giving him my back. “Yeah, don’t really feel like it. Maybe tomorrow.”
The mattress dipped as he sat on my bed. “Mags, come on. Talk to me.”
I couldn’t. I needed time away from everyone to process what happened in the last twenty-four hours.
No more vines.
No more Fiorentino Winery.
No more Vito.
I wasn’t sorry about the last one. He’d lied and then tried to buy me as his kept woman. God, I’d been so stupid. But there were bigger problems than my horrible taste in men.
My grandfather’s vines, my father’s vines . . . all gone. I fell in love with a monster and my lack of judgment destroyed everything my family had created over the last sixty years.
How could I ever forgive myself?