Page 89 of When She Unravels
I blink at him. He waits for my answer, his gaze steady on my face.
“I’d go somewhere far,” I say. “Somewhere there’s no risk of running into the mafia.”
The corners of his lips turn up in bitter smile. “That place doesn’t exist. The underworld’s reach stretches to every corner of the world.”
I refuse to believe that. “There has to besomeplace.”
“And if there isn’t? What will you do if your father finds you?”
My mouth goes dry. “I can’t go back.”
“So you keep saying, but you still won’t tell me why,” he says in a thoughtful tone.
It might feel cathartic to tell someone about what happened down in the basement of the house that never felt like home. Who would I become if I confessed my biggest secret and my biggest shame? Would it help me sleep at night? Would it allow me to heal?
It’s so tempting to find out. But at the last moment, I chicken out. “You’re asking me to share something very personal,” I say softly. “I know barely anything about you.”
“You know me better than most,” he says as he traces a circle around my belly button.
An acerbic laugh escapes me. “Is that because you don’t let anyone in? You forget I’ve spent my life surrounded by made men. I know how you relate to other people.”
“How’s that?”
“With a gun hidden behind your back.”
He takes a deep breath and gives a shake of his head. “What would you like to know?”
An offering. He’s asking what it’ll take for me to feel on even ground with him.
A dozen questions spring to mind, but I distill them down to the few that’ll reveal the real Damiano to me. “What’s your real business on Ibiza?”
He dips his finger inside my belly button. “Real estate, restaurants, clubs, and…drugs.”
“The drug dealers at the clubs are yours?”
“They all work for me,” he says, moving his fingertips to graze the underside of my breast.
“Allof them?”
“Yes. Even in the clubs I don’t own. Ibiza is my territory, and I have a mandate to keep it that way, no matter what it takes. Competition is dealt with quietly and swiftly.”
He speaks softly, as if the mere act of touching my body is hypnotizing. A subtle ache appears between my legs when he reaches my right nipple. So much for being drained. I guess he knows just how to fill me back up.
I need to stay focused. Who knows how many questions of mine he’ll entertain? “Your father was the don,” I say.
“Mhm.”
“Why aren’t you?”
His movements halt, and the temperature in the room drops a couple of degrees. In his eyes, I see a shuttering, a door being closed, but in the last moment, something inside of him forces it back open. He gives me a heavy, heavy look and flattens his palm on my abdomen. “My father’s power was taken from him in the proper Casalese way. To usurp a sitting don you must strangle him to death. Sal Gallo, a distant uncle, murdered my father and began his rule when I was eleven years old. For me to become don, I’ll have to do the same.”
My heart picks up speed, and I know he’s close enough to notice it. This isn’t a fairytale, and Damiano is no prince. He’s a made man, and it’s not the thought of committing murder that’s keeping him from making his bid. “Why haven’t you?”
He tips his head back. “That is a very loaded question, Vale.”
This is the first time he’s called me Vale instead of Valentina or Ale, and the familiarity sends warmth spreading through my chest. It’s what my sisters call me.
He removes his hand from me and drags his palm over his mouth. I can tell he’s trying to decide what he should tell me. “There’s a story that’s become a relatively recent legend among the Casalese. They present it to children as a story of love and betrayal, but in my opinion, it’s a cautionary tale. The story is as follows. A Casalese woman loved her husband so much she couldn’t bear to live without him. One day, he was murdered. When five men tried to return his still-warm body to her as a sign of respect, she saw them through the window of her bedroom and let out a blood curdling scream. As they made their way through the front door, she ran to the kitchen, tore open the pantry, and grabbed the spare can of gasoline. She doused herself with it. When the first of the men burst into the room, she lit a match and set herself on fire. The fire killed all the men and burned the body of her husband to a crisp. It’s said they found the remains of the man and his wife beside each other, even though no one could explain how they ended up like that. Perhaps she used her last conscious moments to get as close to his body as she could. So they could stay together even in death.”
