Page 148 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

As a result of the treaty, Mussolini gained the Catholic Church’s support for his dictatorship… and the pope gained independence from the Italian government.

The Catholic Church: willing to strike a bargain with the Devil if it served their purposes.

That was the only explanation for how Dario and I found ourselves in the Vatican after hours, accompanied by Don Severino and a representative from the Church.

The representative led us through the empty halls of the Vatican Museum, past untold treasures: statues from ancient Rome and Greece, gorgeous floor mosaics transplanted from millennia-old temples, and busts of Roman emperors carved while they were still alive.

As we walked, we were followed at a distance by the dozen men in suits –

The Vatican’s foot soldiers, you might say.

We eventually moved past the statuary into an astoundingly beautiful hallway with a curved ceiling.

Hundreds of paintings – not as good as Michelangelo’s work, but impressive nonetheless – adorned the ceiling, framed by carvings of angels.

However, what gave the hallway its name – the Gallery of Maps – were the 40 giant frescoes that lined its walls.

They were gorgeous painted maps of all the major cities and regions of Italy in the 1500s, with each panel 10 feet tall and a dozen feet wide. With 20 frescoes on each side, the hall was as long as a football field.

And there, halfway down the corridor, stood Fausto and Sofia.

She looked absolutely lovely in her glasses and a black silk dress.

Fausto, on the other hand, looked positively demonic as he glared at us.

The Vatican representative whispered something to Don Severino, then withdrew to the end of the corridor where the dozen ‘holy foot soldiers’ lurked silently.

Don Severino waited to speak until we were ten feet from Fausto. “The gentleman from the Vatican urges that you remember where you are – in one of the holiest places in all of the world – and to refrain from any behavior that would be an infamia.”

“If he really wants us to behave, maybe he should let us talk in the Sistine Chapel,” I joked.

Don Severino glared at me.

“Or not,” I said.

“I’ll keep the peace,” Fausto said darkly.

“And so will we,” Dario replied.

“Then I will withdraw and let you speak in private,” Severino said. He moved as though to go… but turned back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Then he walked down the hall to join the men from the Vatican.

“Well,” Fausto said coldly. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Dario agreed, his voice just as cold. “What did you want to discuss… Uncle?”

Sofia and I exchanged looks, but she cast her eyes down at the floor before I could get a good read on her.

“Let’s take a walk,” Fausto said as he gestured down the hallway.

Dario began to stroll next to him.

Sofia walked behind her boss, and I walked behind my brother. Neither of us looked at each other.

“Look at this,” Fausto said wonderingly as he gazed at the walls. “An empire, rendered as art. You know, someone once said that the Roman Empire never died… it just became a church and thus became immortal.”

“I’m not here to discuss art or empires,” Dario growled. “I’m here to see what you want.”

“This,” Fausto said as he swept his arm out. “I want this. All of it.”

“The art – or the empire?” Dario asked.

“Because the pope might have something to say about the art,” I added cheekily.

Fausto glared at me, then said to Dario, “Let’s take a walk, just the two of us. I’m not so fond of your consigliere at the moment.”

Dario gave me a warning look, and then he and Fausto proceeded down the corridor alone.

“Finally – alone at last,” I said to Sofia.

“No more jokes,” she said seriously. “I’ve decided.”

My heart skipped a beat. “…and?”

“I’m in.”

I peered into her eyes. “You’re sure?”

She gazed back at me and nodded. “I’m sure.”

“…alright. I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

“And I’ll make them on mine.”

I tilted my head down the hallway towards Fausto. “Is he aware why we’re here?”

“I had to tell him in order to persuade him to come.” She smiled faintly. “He thinks I’m double-crossing you right now.”

A bit of dread settled in my stomach. “Is he correct?”

She immediately went cold. “Really?”

“I love you, Sofia – but I’m not sure I entirely trust you.”

She sighed in exasperation. “You want me to swear?”

“Actually, yes. That would make me feel better.”

“Alright,” she said as she held my gaze. “I swear on my being in love with you.”

My heart almost stopped beating.

It was the first time she’d said it –

I love you.

Or, if not exactly that, it was close enough for me.

My previous dread became joy, and I grinned.

“And I swear on my love for you,” I whispered. “When this is over…”

“We can be together,” she whispered back happily.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

She frowned. “What were you going to say?”

I smiled. “I was going to say, ‘Marry me.’”

She looked at me, shocked, and took an involuntary step back.

“Too soon?” I joked.

“Are you serious?!” she whispered frantically.

“What, you think I was just going to ask you out on a date?” I asked drily.

“I didn’t expect to be proposed to.”

“You might not have been around the mafia long enough to have heard it, but we have a saying about marriage: do it quickly or not at all, because none of us knows what tomorrow will bring.

“Here’s what I know: I love you. I want to be with you – for the rest of my life.

There is no one else like you. I could search ten lifetimes, and I’d never find someone I loved and respected more.

So I’m asking you… marry me.” I tilted my head towards Fausto.

“I’d get down on one knee, but that might be a bit suspicious. ”

One corner of her mouth turned up slightly. “Is that how you’re getting out of buying me a ring?”

I grinned. “I’ll have it ready for you the second this is over.”

She swallowed hard. “…alright.”

I raised one eyebrow. “‘Alright,’ you’ll believe it about the ring when you see it, or – ”

“Alright, meaning yes,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you.”

I grinned from ear to ear. “I’d kiss you right now – ”

“Too suspicious.”

“Just a tiny bit.” I looked around us. “Well, you may not be getting the ring or the bended knee, but, hey – at least it’s happening in an incredibly beautiful place.”

“Should’ve waited for the Sistine Chapel,” she said in a deadpan voice.

I chuckled. “I’ll see what I can arrange at the end of the tour.”

Suddenly, from the other end of the hallway, Fausto erupted in rage.

“THEN THERE WILL BE NO PEACE BETWEEN US, EVER!”

“Guess that rules out the Sistine Chapel,” I muttered as both Sofia and I hurried over.

I noticed that Severino and the Vatican foot soldiers were headed this way, as well.

“What’s going on?” I asked Dario.

He was glaring at our uncle. “In exchange for peace, our dear uncle wants us to give up Massimo. To balance out Aurelio’s death.”

“Excuse me?” I said, looking at Fausto like he was insane.

“He took everything from me,” Fausto hissed. “EVERYTHING. My legacy – my bloodline – my only son. There are six of you. Five will remain, but I want him dead for what he did.”

“Out of the fucking question,” Dario said coldly.

Fausto laughed. “Then prepare for endless war, you little shit – because I won’t be satisfied until all your heads are on pikes.”

“Wow, that’s quite the counteroffer,” I said.

“FUCK you,” Fausto snarled specifically at me. “I don’t care what the Council decides – you’re all dead. Every last one of you.”

“What’s the problem?” Severino barked as he ran up.

“Negotiations broke down,” I deadpanned.

“Get me out of here,” Fausto said angrily to Severino. “NOW.”

“Right this way,” he said, ushering Fausto towards the men in suits. He gave me and Dario a withering look. “YOU – stay here until I come back.”

Severino walked back with Fausto the way we’d come, flanked by half the men in suits. The other half stayed 40 feet from me and Dario, watching us carefully.

Sofia gave me one last look.

I just winked at her.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, then hurried to follow her boss.

Dario and I turned away from the Vatican suits, just in case one of them could read lips.

“Well?” my brother asked in a low voice.

“Fausto knew why we were here,” I whispered. “That’s the only reason he came – so Sofia could set up the double-cross. Or so he believes.”

“So she’s in?”

“All the way.”

Dario looked at me carefully. “And you believe her?”

I thought of what she’d said:

I swear on my being in love with you.

“I do,” I whispered.

God help me if I’m wrong.