Page 55 of Vicious Secrets
Siro snorts. “Who wants that at a strip club? I don’t think that type of housewife is what most of us want anyways. Too meek and submissive—if we’re going off of stereotypes.”
“Huh. I never would have guessed. What with the arranged marriage thing and all,” I tease him, beaming up at him as we walk.
“Doing away with arranged marriage is tricky. It risks letting in too many unvetted outsiders. And to us, marriage isn’t about love. It never has been. But, I agree we’re behind the times. There have been changes. After Alic became the Denver Underboss, he banned betrothals before the age of eighteen. Others followed suit, and it quickly became universal.”
“Good on Alic.”
A shiny, glittering Christmas tree wobbling on top of a taxi catches my eye as it zooms by. Two things hit me at once: that’s an eventual trip to the ER for lacerations, and this is my first Christmas without Mom. A shiver runs up my spine as Oscar’s warning about gloves coming off floats between my ears.
“That didn’t feel like a chill.” Siro places his hand over mine on his arm.
“That was ten thoughts hitting at once.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. There isn’t a chance in hell Siro will accept a short answer. “I’ve never had a Christmas without my mom. Or Oscar since he showed up. And I worry about some of their not-so-subtle warnings.”
“Your stepfather’s paranoid and blatantly wrong. Alic and I dug into every word you told me. It’s all linked to Bratva gossip.”
My brows raise. “What kind of gossip?”
Siro’s lips press together, and he turns his chin to look at me. “Nothing that risks our lives.”
There is a hint of concern in there, but it’s not the type I’ve seen in his eyes before. It reminds me of the way Fabi stares off when he’s venting about one of his little sisters or when Alic joins Cirilla on an outing. It’s brotherly.
I look away to escape reading into Siro’s emotions. My brain jumps back to the initial topic of our conversation.
“So, our feelings for each other, are they unusual or mythical?” I want to look up at him, and not just to see if he’s shocked by my question.
I want to watch the little tick that forms in the corner of his mouth and how his eyes unfocus while he’s deep in thought. I want to see the flash of excitement light up his dark irises, proving they’re brown and not a soulless black when he finds an answer.
“Unusual, not mythical. We don’t associate love with marriage. It’s associated with family, with siblings. There’s romance, but not romantic love.”
This explains a lot of the behaviors I’ve seen at every party we’ve gone to. Spouses treat each other more like allies than lovers and treat their blood family like royalty—except for the Dirosas. They’re distant from each other, with Siro and Vittore attaching themselves to outsiders, Tiff busying herself with raising kids, and Siro’s parents isolated in their mansion.
We make small talk for the remainder of the walk to the restaurant Siro picked, where we’re seated at a table in front of a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a quiet pool. Curtains create a dome around the table, but the gap in the pleated black fabric doesn’t give us complete privacy.
By the time we’re half a wine bottle down, whatever barriers remain between us crumble. Or maybe, that’s just the filter between my mouth and my brain dying off.
“I’m surprised you didn’t have the waiter bring two bottles and a metal straw.” I gesture at the wine bottle and empty bread plate. “You know I’m a cheap date.”
Siro’s lips shrug along with his shoulders. “No, I don’t. This is our first date.”
I sit back in my chair and take a sip from my glass. Something passes between our gazes. I sigh as I tilt my head to one side. “Fabi doesn’t give you random advice, huh?”
“No, he does not. I’m the Boss, and Fabi pities you.”
I gasp. “He does not!”
“Fabi’s job is to keep you safe—including your mental and emotional well-being.” Siro throws back the rest of his wine and sits up straighter. “Back in July, I fell out with my cousin Vi, and he cut me out. Fabi worked closely with Vi. He probably thinks I’ll neglect you like I neglected Vi. So he’s encouraging you to advocate for yourself.”
It circles back to our conversation on the walk here. Since love in the Fedeltà is familial, Fabi would view the rift like a divorce between a couple who looked like “relationship goals” on the outside. Every time I’ve heard about Vittore and Siro, they’re talked about as a power duo. An entity that worked as a unit and spoke its own language.
“Fabi’s never mentioned the rift. But it’s also not any of my business if you don’t want it to be.”
Siro’s gaze flicks up to my face, and his shoulders soften. “I made a decision that impacted his wife’s family.” Siro huffs. “There was only one real option. And I know Vi knows I made the right choice, but I handled the aftermath wrong. I wasn’t there for Vi when he needed me the most.”
I reach across the table and hold my hand palm up. Siro places his hand on mine and squeezes it before my fingers close.
“Neglect is not effortless or passive. And one mistake, even if it’s a big one, doesn’t make you a neglectful person.”
“I wasn’t raised to be a person.”
