Page 19 of Mafia King
Being marriedto the capo may come with privileges, but as Santino pulls the Alfa Romeo into the driveway, I’m hard-pressed to list them. The duties and obligations are more clear. I’ve already missed a mass I was apparently obligated to attend so I could meet up with Scarlett, but if church is to ask God for indulgence and forgiveness, the meal afterward is where the sins are gossiped about.
Which is why—even though I’d rather chew glass—I get out of the car to go upstairs to freshen up.
I’m curling my hair when Santino appears in the bathroom doorway as if I invited him.
Which I didn’t.
His jacket is unbuttoned and his elbow is high on the doorframe, exposing the shoulder holster.
“You’re carrying,” I say. “Why?”
“Five minutes.” He drops his arm and walks away.
I turn off the curler without confirming this countdown, and I unzip my makeup bag. My stomach may be in knots, the world may feel like a rollercoaster. Santino can keep his guns and his bulletproof windows. I will not leave this house without armoring myself with blush and lipstick.
My mother once said something about women’s defenses being vastly different than men’s. She never said it to me. I was five when she was killed.
Rosetta used to tell me about things our mother had said, when I was younger and asked questions. Her words didn’t always make sense and I forgot most of them, annoyed Rosetta was trying to assert herself as the one in charge of our parents’ adult quips and adages. Now, I’d give anything to hear a word from either of them.
“What would you tell me?” I ask the mirror, envisioning the two of them standing behind me, their hands resting on my shoulders.
“That it’s time to go,” Santino answers.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You’re beautiful.” Santino sounds bored having to state the obvious. “That’s enough. Your face needs no more preparation.”
“I’d believe you if I knew why a woman we saw a week and a half ago didn’t mention she was taking a trans-Atlantic flight to our doorstep.”
“Business happens.”
I dust my cheeks and nose with pink, just enough to keep me from looking like a china doll, not enough to need to blend. “She bring Siena Orolio with her this time?”
Santino steps into the bathroom and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t,” I say.
What I expect is a reassertion of his power over me, and I’m ready for all the pleasure and surrender that comes with it.
What I get is confirmation that Santino DiLustro knows when to back off. Our eyes meet in the mirror.
“You were always…” He looks at his shoes and rolls his hand at the wrist as if he can form the right words from the air like cotton candy. “Dai, dai, dai, come si dice.”
He can’t jog the expression. His frustration is painful to watch.
“I was always a pain in the—”
“No!Sempre. Before Rosetta. Before I was a man. Before we were born. You were always. Always. I…” He looks at the ceiling then closes his eyes. “Right after I took control of Secondo Vasto, I came to your uncle’s.” He invokes that day when I saw him in the hallway as a reminder. He has no idea it’s a cornerstone of my life. “To tell him I would marry Rosetta when the time came. And I saw you there. This connection, it was so strong…” He holds up his hands as if he wants to stop my thoughts. I’ve never seen him so unsure. “You were a child, so I didn’t hold it in the same place. I had no idea of you as a woman.”
“So you married my sister because you couldn’t marry me?”
“Porca puttana.” He exclaimsfor fuck’s sakein irritation. “Violetta, no. But I met her, and we spoke, and… yes. She was beautiful and… how do you say…incantevole?”
“Lovely?”
“Si. I thought, I could not walk away. I had to protect this woman and her little sister, like I promised.”
“Wait. Protect?”
