Page 91 of Bitter Poetry

Ettore slips his arm around my waist and holds me a little too tightly. I plaster on a smile that hurts my cheeks and try to work out how my diabolical life took this turn for the worse.

My eyes lift reluctantly, and steeling myself for the pain, come to rest on Dante.

Thank God Ettore finds something to laugh about then because it covers my gasp.

Past and present snap together like a bow string held taut for too long and suddenly released.

How can he look so similar, so devastatingly handsome, and yet different all at once?

Older.

Harder.

He was always a tall, powerful man, but it’s like he’s shed skin and grown. His shoulders fill out his suit just a little more, his hair is an inch longer, and his eyes are cold enough to match Christian’s when he’s inside me telling me he hates me.

Does Dante hate me? Does he, like Christian, see me as the reason he was pushed aside, forced to become a capo when he appeared very much settled into the role of consigliere?

He doesn’t look at me, nor acknowledge me. It feels like forever and no time at all when he checks his watch and offers his excuses to leave.

“A dinner this weekend,” Ettore says, his arm still looped around me as he walks Dante to the door. “To celebrate. You have been absent for too long, Dante. Now that our families are joining, I expect to see more of you.”

It’s an order, not a request.

Dante must be in alignment or likewise take it as an order because he offers his instant acquiescence.

“Will you be in the city long?” Ettore asks.

“I’ll stay tonight,” Dante replies. “I’m taking Helena out for dinner. Then I must be back tomorrow… I’ve been living in an apartment above the club, but I’ll need somewhere more appropriate for Helena and Peony… I might call in on Cedro this afternoon, if you think that might be appropriate.”

“Yes,” Ettore agrees, all affable now that he has got what he wanted. “He would appreciate the visit.”

The strain of maintaining decorum has my nerves paper-thin and it’s a relief to see him leave.

“Call Helena and offer her your congratulations,” Ettore offers me his parting orders into the strange void left by Dante’s departure. “Maybe you can join her for lunch today. She was good to you when you were planning our wedding. You should do the same for her.”

I didn’t know the situation could get any worse, but with those words it does.

CHAPTER 29

DANTE

Iknew seeing Carmela was going to be a challenge. It was all I expected and more. Still breathtakingly beautiful and yet with a haunted look in her eyes I had not seen before.

She was wearing my necklace.

After all this time.

It gives me hope, assuming I haven’t fucked things up by my marriage to Helena.

Yeah, that’s going to fuck things up…

She barely looked at me. Not that I could blame her. I was similarly careful not to allow my gaze to linger on her. Ettore sent me a message about her in the form of three thugs with a hammer. While I’ve no desire to experience that again, that wasn’t the reason I played a good capo today. No, I’m playing the long game because nothing else has a chance of success.

But I need to see her alone, and soon, if I don’t want her to hate me. Not that I can tell her much. But if I can explain that I haven’t forgotten her, that my marriage to Helena is a means to an end, it might help.

Only Carmela is still so young and these games we play are not for the tender hearted. I left her with him. I’m surprised she hasn’t already tossed the necklace in the trash.

Maybe she will today.