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Enzo blew out a mouthful of smoke. “Don’t worry, fratello. This will all be over soon.”
The funeral had nothing to do with why I was miserable, but I didn’t bother saying it. “Have you seen Paloma? She’s not answering my texts.”
“She went to buy a new dress for the funeral.” Enzo put his feet up on my coffee table. “How much are you sleeping?”
“Enough.”
“Not from what I hear. Paloma is considering drugging you to let you rest.”
“If she does, she’s on the first flight back to London.”
My brother snorted, while Giacomo silently smoked. I reached into my suit pocket and took out my cigarettes andlighter. When I lit one, Enzo frowned at me. “I thought we discussed this.”
I inhaled and let the smoke fill my lungs. The nicotine worked quickly, easing the knot pulling behind my eyes. I exhaled slowly. “Fuck off,il pazzo,” I said, using Gia’s nickname for him,madman.
“You will quit after the funeral.”
Giacomo, don of the Cosa Nostra in Palermo and Emma Mancini’s husband, cracked a small smile. “This is cute, this squabbling. I always wanted to murder my brother.” His grin grew wider as he shrugged. “Then he was murdered, thank fuck.”
Courtesy of Giulio Ravazzani, Fausto’s eldest son.
I said, “You should know Giulio and his ragazzo have arrived.” Giulio and his boyfriend, Alessio Ricci, ran criminal operations in Málaga, Spain. Alessio was a famous sniper who’d once shot Fausto Ravazzani, which added to the family drama during this funeral.
“Good,” Giacomo said. “I have some questions for the sniper.”
“This fucking weekend,” Enzo snarled at the ceiling. “Everyone I hate in one place.”
“You didn’t have to come,” I reminded him. “Gia told you not to.”
“Where she goes, I go. And my kids insisted on coming to be with her. So I am here.”
The door opened and my sister walked in, shopping bags in her hands. “Ciao,” she said to the room, then looked directly at me. “Good to see you out of your office, fratellone.”
“Dai, Paloma.” Enzo scowled at her. “I should be your favorite brother. Who paid your bills all those years?”
Paloma kissed the top of my head. “But Vito doesn’t bark and snarl at me like you do.” Then she went over and kissed both his cheeks. “Don’t worry, I still love you, Enzo.”
Giacomo excused himself to check on Emma and the baby, and Paloma dropped into the vacated chair. “Che cosa? Are we hanging out here and smoking all day?”
“I would rather not breathe the same air as Ravazzani, if I can avoid it,” Enzo explained, as if we weren’t already aware.
“And some of us are working,” I said. “Everything is set at the cemetery. I expanded the perimeter with security.”
“I told you that wasn’t necessary,” Paloma said. “And you’re going to drop from exhaustion, Vito.”
I continued to smoke, not responding. I didn’t need anyone worrying after me.
Paloma and Enzo exchanged a look, then my sister tapped her manicured nails on the armrest. “Did you sleep last night?” she asked me.
My voice went hard. “Stop treating me like a child, both of you. I don’t want to fucking sleep and I don’t need to quit smoking. Mind your own fucking business for once.”
Enzo’s feet dropped from the coffee table. He sat up straighter. “I haven’t punched you in a few years, fratello, but you are dangerously close at the moment.”
Paloma put her hand on Enzo’s arm, but kept her gaze on me. “This isn’t about the funeral. This is about Maggie.”
“No, it’s fucking not,” I said.
“Then cut ties with her and return the winery to them.”