Page 20

C ontessa

“I’ve got something for you.”

I’m lying face down on a lounger beside Cristiano’s pool when the sound of Trilby’s voice makes me jump. I’ve unwittingly made this place my second home, purely because it affords me an escape from the ever-watchful eyes of my aunt and Papa. At least that’s what I keep reassuring myself. Not because I’m half-hoping a certain bronze-eyed, gun-wielding consigliere happens to frequent it too.

I roll onto my side and shade my eyes from the sun. Trilby is holding something that looks like a box.

Is that what I think it is?

I sit up and rub my eyes, hoping it will make me focus better .

“I know you always wanted it,” she adds in a soft voice.

I realize what it is before my vision adjusts and I hold out my hands to take it from her. The weight of the box fills me with warm memories. And knowing my way around it like the back of my hand, I pop open the lid. A beautiful ballerina sits proudly on a pedestal, just waiting to be wound up.

I feel my way to the handle at the back and twist it. Music heavily tinted by the sound of vintage carousels echoes around the terrace and tears fill my eyes.

We both watch in silence, each of us remembering Mama in our own way. The music slows to a clink clunk, so I wind the handle all the way and watch the beautiful little figurine spin in her pink lace tutu. I touch the sparkling gems on the bodice of her dress.

“Those are real, by the way,” Trilby says.

“What?” My voice feels ethereal as I watch the stones glisten in the sunlight.

“They’re diamonds.”

I watch the little figure spin with renewed awe. “But, there’s like twenty of them.”

“It was a wedding present to Mama from Great Aunt Chiara.”

No further explanation is needed. Great Aunt Chiara is legendary in our family and I’m sad I never got the chance to meet her. She married into old world money at just seventeen. She and Great Uncle Guiseppe never had children, and so Mama, being the only daughter in the family, became the beneficiary of all the gifts Chiara would have bought her own daughter if she’d had one.

“I had no idea.”

I always thought this was a cheap bargain basement jewelry box, but nevertheless, I craved it like every other kid my age craved candy. But now, my feelings are spinning like the diamond-encrusted ballerina.

The sun shifts behind Trilby, casting a shadow over the box and me.

“Is there a reason you’re giving this to me now?”

She sits down opposite me. “You look like you’re in a bit of a funk.”

I lie on my back and rest the music box on my stomach. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah. That’s what you always say,” Trilby says, not unkindly. “Believe it or not, we speak the same language, Tess.”

I release a long breath.

“Is Antonio still giving you a hard time?”

I close my eyes. “Yeah, but that’s nothing new.”

Silence stretches before Trilby asks, “So, what is new?”

It’s a good question, and one I don’t have the answer for. All I know is, lately, my feelings seem to have intensified, and I don’t know why. I just seem to feel everything more. Like the sunrise. I used to always take it for granted, the fact I was up with the larks, stretching my limbs beneath the deep pink rays before anyone else awoke. These days I pause. I stare at the damn thing like it’s a miracle. I notice the sound of birds, for crying out loud. I no longer view them as vermin, primed to shit on me from a great height, but as gifts from God—things that make the most captivating music of all.

And… I cry. This is new. Until recently, I hadn’t shed a tear since Mama died, but now, show me a pet food commercial and I’m crying a damned river.

“I don’t know, Trilby.” It’s the truth. “Maybe it’s hormones…” Though I hate blaming anything on hormones. “Maybe it’s the stress of not knowing what’s going to happen after this recital, whether Papa will let me continue to study dance, or whether he’ll marry me off like he did with you…”

“Oh Tess…” Trilby wraps her arms around me and it’s nice. She and I were never close growing up. She moved out straight after Mama died, when I was only thirteen. She always had a wall built up around her. I guess we all did, in a way, but Trilby’s involved an actual wall because she physically moved into the apartment next door.

“You know…” she presses her lips to my hair. “I don’t think Papa has any plans to marry you off. You should talk to him… Tell him what you want to do. You have a rare talent, Tess. You’re a beautiful dancer—we can all see it.”

I hug her back, tentatively.

“Look at Sera…” she continues. “Papa let her move to the Hamptons so she could train in hospitality. If anyone was going to be set up for marriage next, it would be her, but there’ve been no signs of that. You on ly have to see how involved Papa is in our wedding plans to know how proud he is that Sera is organizing everything at the other end.”

I can’t argue with that. Trilby and Cristiano are holding their wedding at the hotel Sera is interning at, and Papa, despite being extremely busy with the port, is always the first to visit the location to vet things, try things, inspect the place. There are literally zero signs that he’s unhappy about Sera’s career choice or future.

“Talk to him,” she says, pulling back. “It might help you feel better.”

I nod. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

“And why don’t you go out some? Let your hair down. You’re always training—you need to find time to have fun too.”

I cast my eyes downward. I’m not a social creature—never have been. I reserve all my extroversion for dance. The rest of the time, I like to be alone, recuperating. Expressing myself through dance takes a lot of energy.

She releases me and pats my arm. “Think about it, yeah? You’re too damn hot to hide yourself away on this terrace. As Allegra always says, you won’t be lean and luscious forever, so make the most of it while you can.”

I can’t help but smile at Allegra’s view of life. “Fine,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “I’ll go out. Just give me a few months to get used to the idea.”

Trilby pushes me playfully then gets to her feet. “I’m heading over to the gallery. You want to join me?”

I think about it. The gallery is Trilby’s dream and Cristiano has given it to her. He’d initially said she could work in any gallery she wanted as long as it was in a part of the city he ruled, but then he surprised her on her birthday with a space of her own, right in the heart of Williamsburg. The only concession she’s had to make is to hire a team Cristiano has personally vetted, and keep security with her at all times. It’s a small price to pay.

But the gallery is indoors, and the sun is outdoors, so… “Thanks but I’ll stay here if that’s okay?”

“Of course it is. And last I looked, Benny wasn’t here so you’re safe.” She winks and leans over to plant a kiss on my cheek.

I feel a strange sinking sensation in my chest.

“Will you be staying for dinner?” she asks, ruffling her bleached blond hair.

Hunger. That must have been why I feel so weird all of a sudden. “I don’t know. Probably not. I need to show my face at home. But are there any snacks I can help myself to?”

“Yeah, loads. Just have a rummage around the kitchen.”

I call out my thanks as she’s almost halfway back to the house, then I wind up the ballerina again and watch her twirl.

Ten minutes later and I’m definitely feeling hungry so I rest the jewelry box by the lounger and go off in search of snacks. I bite into a protein bar while I chop up some fruit into a small salad, then carry it out to the terrace. I’m about to sit at one of the small tables and pull out my Kindle when I hear male voices coming from a concealed corner. I stand still and listen, hoping I don’t overhear something not intended for my ears.

I suddenly wish Trilby was still here. Without her I’m just a young girl hanging out alone at a mafia don’s house. I swallow back a laugh at how absurd that sounds. A year ago, I had no idea how closely involved with the Di Santos my father was. Now, we’re all as central to the family as it’s possible to get. I’m one of them .

That thought doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable though, especially when I hear someone talking about “another” hit on the Marchesis. I slowly lower my bowl to the table and slide onto a chair.

“They’re hiding it from us, but there’s definitely someone else involved,” one of the voices says.

“Someone who isn’t related by blood,” another voice says.

“But they’re made?” The third voice makes me sit up and my heart pump fast. Bernadi is here.

“Must be.”

“That was fast. I thought we knew all of Marchesi's wise guys.”

Another voice chimes in. “With Fury stepping down and our hit the other night, they’re panicking. They’ve yet to announce the nephews at the helm and they need a strong man at the top, if only for the optics. This one, whoever he is, could be the answer.”

“We need to find out exactly who this guy is,” Bernadi says. “If he’s a made man, he’s probably been around a while. Get some of Augie’s men on it.”

“Will do, boss.”

Hearing someone call Bernadi ‘boss’ makes something regrettable flutter below my waistline.

Footsteps crunch on gravel and I hastily put my pods in my ears and focus all my attention on my Kindle. Three men appear around the corner and stop when they see me. Some parting words are muttered and two of the men disperse—one inside the house and the other across the lawns to the security gates. Bernadi doesn’t move and I feel his gaze pressing on me like a branding iron.

I glance sideways at him, and his feet take slow, measured steps in my direction. I remove the ear pods one by one, expecting some sharp put down to fly out of his mouth but he walks straight past me, his jacket sleeves brushing the hairs on my arm.

He walks right to the edge of the terrace and stands with his feet braced looking out over the ocean drop.

“Good afternoon to you too,” I say, snarkily.

I know he heard because he gives his head a small, exasperated shake.

But, for all intents and purposes, Benito Bernadi is ignoring me. And I realize I like that even less than when he’s shooting people in the head without giving me any warning .

No doubt to Bernadi’s relief, Cristiano walks out onto the terrace. “Hey, Tess.”

Cristiano’s greeting makes Bernadi look round and his gaze caresses my skin for just a second longer than is comfortable. Warm blood rises up my collarbone into my cheeks and I look down at the salad wondering where my appetite has gone.

“Hey, bro’,” I reply, biting back a grin, then I push back the chair and return to my lounger by the pool. The atmosphere on the terrace feels prickly. I want to stay, for reasons I don’t understand, but I also don’t like this feeling of being snubbed. I hesitate briefly before typing a quick text to Paige. She’s always inviting me out and I never go. It will be just my luck—and everything I deserve—if she’s not doing anything I can join in on right now.

While I await her reply, I take one of the pool towels and wrap it around the jewelry box. I love my car but it’s a vintage convertible Camaro that hasn’t had nearly enough TLC, so I want to make sure this beautiful box is as safe and secure as possible when I drive it home.

Quicker than I’d expected, Paige replies.

“Hey there Dancing Queen. So great to hear from you. Sure. At a pool party. Come IMMEDIATELY.”

I look down at my outfit—a tiny black two-piece, fitted top and a black skater skirt. I think it’s pool-party-esque. A second text arrives with the address of the party and a photo of Paige and two girls I don’t recognize all pouting at the camera. My stomach fills with anxious butterflies but I force myself to type a message back.

“Great! On my way!” I’m so not an exclamation mark kind of girl but I figure this is how sociable types communicate, and when in Roma…

I put the wrapped box into my tote and return to the table to collect my bowl just as Cristiano heads back my way. My gaze darts timidly in Bernadi’s direction but he’s resumed his moody perusal of the landscape.

“You heading out?” Cristiano nods to my bag as we walk back inside the house.

“Yeah. Pool party.”

“Nice. Whose pool?”

I arch a brow. “You really want to know?”

He smiles and pushes the door open. “I think I probably should, don’t you?”

I manage to not roll my eyes though it takes some effort. “I doubt there will be any mafiosos there, but if you insist…”

I give him the address and he nods thoughtfully.

“Do I have a curfew?”

Cristiano frowns. “Does your father give you one?”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Not usually, no. But then again, I rarely go out-out.”

The frown deepens—he’s not amused. “Then yes. Midnight, Cinderella.”

Something glistens behind his eyes and the penny drops. “You’re going to have me followed, aren’t you?”

A corner of his mouth ticks up. “No. But I do have a couple of guys in that area who’ll be given the heads-up you’re there.”

I force a smile and grit my teeth. “Great!” I’m getting good at this whole exclamation thing.

“Have a nice time,” he calls after me and I wave a hand overhead before pulling the door behind me a little too hard.