Page 52 of Sins of the Orchid

“Come with us,” Adriano pleaded as I went to break away to go with Dad and my brother. “It’s at our Long Island house.”

My step faltered and I glanced between Adriano and my family. I didn’t think Santi would be happy about that.

“Ah, I’m not sure.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to overwhelm the two brothers. They needed their own space and time to deal with their grief. “You and Santi should have some alone time,” I muttered. “And I just got back.”

“No, we don’t. Right now, I needyou. Please.”

A rush of awareness ran from my nape down to my bloodstream.

“What’s going on?” Santi’s voice came behind me and washed through me, sending shivers down my spine. I sensed him before he even uttered a word. His voice was deep and indifferent while my stomach clenched with nerves.

How much was he hiding behind that voice? I turned around to meet his gaze. It felt like I needed to mentally prepare for being so close to him. Except I didn’t have enough time.

“Adriano wants Amore to ride with you two,” Luigi answered. “She doesn’t want to impose.”

Up close, the impact he had on me was even more intense. My heart drummed hard; my hands wanted to fidget. Instead, I just clenched the material of my dress. I forgot how much taller than me he was, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his gaze. When our eyes met again, it was like all the air was whooshed from my lungs.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Santi,” I breathed out, my voice soft and slightly quavering.

He nodded, the unspoken words lingering in the air. I just wished I knew what they were.

“Come with us,” Adriano begged as he squeezed my hand, oblivious to the tension between his older brother and me. Then his eyes sought my father’s permission.

“Go ahead, Amore,” Dad urged me softly. “Luigi, Vincent, and I will meet you there.”

I didn’t know how Santi felt about it, so I searched for his permission. He gave me a silent nod.

“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly. It wasn’t smart; I knew it deep down. I should keep my distance from Santi Russo but like a moth to a flame I went.

I got in the back of Santi’s 1968 black Ford Mustang Bullitt. It was kind of appropriate for today’s mood. Santi always had rare and expensive cars. I had heard a lot about this one since Adriano often talked about it. Santi collected a variety of expensive cars. Adriano only collected Mustangs.

The drive to their home was silent. I sat in the back seat behind Adriano while he stared out the window, and I focused on Santi’s hands and leg movements as he shifted his car. It wasn’t rhythmic, but something about the smoothness of it settled me.

My hands were folded together in my lap, my black dress, something I designed myself, had a crew neck with long sleeves and came down to my knees. It was conservative but also hugged the curves rather than hung on me.

I thought back to the last funeral I attended. It was my stepmother’s funeral. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Different life.

Different me.

A single stupid decision by a naive child in the midst of a jungle had set so many things in motion, altered so many lives. My mother died, so did George, and I found out George wasn’t my father, but an Italian Don was. Elena lost her life because of me.

Nobody spoke of it, but my father did it. Because of those bruises and burns. In order to protect me. How many people died protecting me? So much had changed. That little girl disappeared and in her place came me. I wasn’t sure who I was. Amore Regalè. Amore Bennetti. Or someone entirely different.

We just came back from Elena Bennetti’s funeral. The woman, my stepmother, who I had known for two weeks, had managed to inflict so many scars, visible and invisible ones, to my body. On top of the ones that I had already gotten in the jungles of South America.

The funeral was a small gathering. Dad limited it only to certain people that were approved by him. I wore black. Lorenzo helped me pick out the dress. When I questioned him whether it would seem fake that I was wearing black for someone that I didn’t know, he just murmured, “That’s the way of the mafia and their families. Welcome to the world of the Cosa Nostra.”

Then he hugged me. He promised to always watch over me and not to think about Elena. But guilt wasn’t easy to wash away.

Shouting behind the closed door of Dad’s office was clearly heard by everyone. The moment we got back from the funeral, Grandma and Dad went into his office, fury and anger dominating both their faces.

At this point they were screaming at each other. Everyone’s eyes remained glued to the office door, nobody willing to move, pretending they didn’t hear it. Most of the people hung around in the living room since it had rained outside.

The door of the office opened, and my grandmother Regina stormed out, my father right behind her.

“Amore, you are coming home with me,” she ordered me.