Page 46

"You are," she replies with complete sincerity. "Nico cares about?—"

"We're practically strangers."

"Fine. But for the first time in years, Nico has the desire to connect with someone. That signifies something profound for him."

"It means something to me, too," I admit.

"Nico enlisted me to help him covertly – to maintain the city's positive trajectory. He’s devoted himself entirely to safeguarding this city, preventing corruption from infiltrating his territory. He's not a bad man. I recognize true malevolence: my husband, God help me, my eldest son. But not Nico."

"Nico told me that Russians were responsible for my mother's death. He claims that during the gunfight where she was killed, Russians were targeting an Italian. Is that true?"

"I don’t know specifics about the conflict," Gianna says somberly, "but if Nico claims it, it's indisputably true. After his brother's passing, when Nico assumed leadership, he would never sanction a hit in public. He would never harm an innocent."

The implication is hard to miss. He wouldn't harm civilians, but he would eliminate threats.

"You must think something big is going on if you've just divulged all that to a virtual stranger," I say.

She shrugs. "I can only speak for my son. And when I look at him lately, I glimpse the boy he was before discovering how twisted his father was."

I think back to the picture at the golf course, the smiling child, Nico lamenting his one-time ignorance of how lucky he was.

"What do you expect me to do regarding this information?" I ask.

"Nothing," Gianna replies. "Except... don't punish yourself. Live your own life."

More subtext. Live my life, not the one I think my mother would want for me.

I drain my champagne glass. "Since you've been so truthful, I'll reciprocate. I'm growing tired of fighting this... this connection with Nico. I can't even articulate it properly."

"Falling in love."

"Take it easy there!" I gasp, though I'm smiling.

Despite everything she's just revealed – mobsters, drugs, human trafficking – I'm smiling. Is something fundamentally wrong with me? Is my relief really so overwhelming?

"Then wipe that grin off your face, dear," Gianna says.

I try to, but it proves challenging.

"My life has improved immeasurably since Nico assumed control. The city is safer. I no longer live terrorized by threats from my husband or son. I've risked all that by speaking so candidly with you, Sienna."

"I won't betray your confidence," I murmur.

"Has it changed your perception of Nico?"

I sigh. "I don’t know how to answer that."

But that's a lie. The truth is, I want to let go. Like the woman in the play, I want to immerse myself in this new life. But apprehension holds me back. What if Gianna is lying or misinterpreting? What if, when Nico and I cease our pretenses, we discover nothing substantial beneath?

Staying single, while lonely, has its benefits. For one thing, I don’t have to answer questions like these.

“It’s not like I’m going to throw myself at his feet and declare, Let’s get married. Just because I like him, or because I’m interested, it doesn’t make him any less of a stranger.”

“When he looks at you, it’s not like he’s looking at a stranger. It’s like he’s looking at someone he’s waited a long time to meet.”

I stare down into my empty glass. “That’s sort of how I feel, too. Like I’ve been alone all this time, and now this is my chance.”

“Then take it,” Gianna says passionately.