Page 43 of Bitter Poetry

I slide my hands onto the surface of the desk. “How can I help you?”

“You think you’re the big man, don’t you? You’re not anymore.”

I feel calm. Shouldn’t I be more concerned? A man with an unknown agenda is pointing a gun directly at me, close enough that, even if he’s a shit shot, he can’t fucking miss.

Yet it’s oddly freeing.

I don’t have any control here. But I also don’t want to die.

As a second man, and third man enter the room, one of whom slips on a pair of leather gloves, I realize I’m probably not going to die.

But I might wish for it before they’re done.

CHAPTER 15

CARMELA

“How was your day, Carmela?” Ettore asks, checking his cell phone and barely sparing a glance at me.

We are having dinner at Il Giardino, a stark contrast to my last meal here with my parents. It was the evening before my party. I was thrilled with the bracelet Dante had given me for my graduation present and excited about the future.

Now I lurch between obsession and worry over the necklace Dante gave me, and I’m anxious about my future.

How times have changed.

“It was good.”I cried about Mama again.“We visited Papa.”He looked old and frail, and I barely recognized him. Visiting him made Jessica cry.“Then we came home, and I helped Jessica with her coursework.”Her coursework is all done, but neither of us can stand spending time with your sister.“Cosmo called by, which was nice of him.”It wasn’t nice. He makes me deeply uncomfortable.“He didn’t stay long.”If Christian hadn’t been there after bringing us home from seeing Papa, I’m certain he would have lingered a lot longer.

I honestly don’t know what to make of Christian. My feelings regarding him are chaotic at best, but he has a presence for a man so young. Cosmo’s face when Christian walked back in was comical in its terror. Christian clamped a hand on Cosmo’s shoulder and cheerfully quipped,“How’s it hanging?”

Cosmo’s face lost all color. He mumbled an excuse and left.

“Cosmo?” Ettore’s brows pull together.

His cell bleeps, and he quickly checks the screen.

I wish I could say I was warming toward the man who will be my husband in five days, but really, I’m not.

“Yes,” I say. My hands are shaking where I hold my cutlery. It’s just a simple dinner. It shouldn’t feel so hard. “He called this afternoon.”

I’m eating poached salmon. I don’t like salmon, but Ettore ordered it for me without asking me what I preferred. Every mouthful is a challenge. I’m out of my depth and a little scared of him, although he’s done nothing I can quantify as threatening. He hasn’t even touched me yet.

It’s just a feeling, a sense, a premonition that darkness is coming for me.

“Did he speak to you?” He’s looking at me, not the cell now. I wish it were the other way around.

I lower my knife and fork. “Only briefly.” Why do I feel like I’ve done something wrong? “Christian had just left, but then he came back in for some reason. The two of them left together.”

Ettore smiles.

My return smile is nervous.

“Good,” he says, lifting his wine glass to his lips and sipping before returning it to the table.

The wine is red. I don’t like red wine any more than I like salmon.

I pick up my cutlery and move my food around the plate.

“That necklace is new. I don’t believe I’ve seen it before.”