Page 106 of Forsaking All Others

I wondered if he’d known that and then decided he must have.

It seemed Luca paid much closer attention to me than his brother did, or at least would admit to.

“You don’t have children,” Carla said from the archway between the bathroom and closet. “So you can’t possibly understand what it’s like to know your baby is hurting.”

I couldn’t help but scoff as I dropped my robe from my shoulders, unselfconscious about my body and the strapless corset and hosiery that adorned it. “No, I suppose I can only guess what it’s like to know my husband is hurting. To know they’ve taken an ear and two fingers and to wonder at what’s next.”

Carla whimpered slightly. “Don’t be cruel to me, Fiammetta. I thought we could find solace in each other during this time. We have always been close. Do not let Lando’s duplicitous nature be our undoing now when we need each other more than ever.”

“I think a better choice would be to turn to Lando or Luca,” I offered archly as I stepped into the dress and twisted to lever the zipper up my back. “You might not have been in charge of the decision to lie to me, but you were still complicit in it. That hurts, Carla.”

Carla stepped in to take over, her hands cold against my spine. “What does Lando know about anything?” she griped, which alarmed me because she was usually a staunch defender of her husband’s every move and thought. “And I do not want to distract Luca, his first priority should be finding his brother. He never should have lost him in the first place. It’s his sole purpose to keep Dario safe from harm.”

“Is that all he is to you?” I asked, turning to cock my head at her. “A tool?”

Her smile was bland, but there was an edge to her voice as she said, “A tool? Darling, aren’t we all? Only one can be master enough to use the tools at their disposal, and it’s neither you nor I, I’m afraid.”

She turned to grab the shoes I was going to wear, mile-high black patent Louboutins, and placed them neatly at my feet before she straightened and gave me her usual sweet smile. “It’s when a tool has run out of its usefulness that we should worry. Luca has no reason to do that.”

But you might.

I wondered if I was just imagining the implication, searching Carla’s lovely face for clues, but she only gazed back at me demurely as I slipped into my shoes.

“You married me to two men,” I said finally. “Which one am I supposed to be loyal to?”

She laughed, a light, musical sound I had always found delightful. “Darling, as long as you are loyal to the Family, isn’t that enough?”

I stared after her as she swanned out of the closet without another word, her own high heels clicking like teeth against the hardwood in my bedroom.

“Everyone in this family is crazy,” I decided as I put in my diamond earrings, spritzed perfume, and then made my way downstairs.

It was too much to hope I would make it down without incident when a strong hand caught my arm before I could take the first marble step. Even before I turned around, I knew it would be Lando.

He smelled of expensive whiskey and peat smoke, like the inside of a Scottish distillery. It wasn’t unpleasant or even overly alcoholic, but it made me feel slightly nauseated all the same.

“What was Carla going on about?” he demanded in a sibilant hiss, half in the shadows at the side of the staircase.

“Since when do you care what the little women are talking about?” I asked, wrenching my arm out of his hold even though I knew it would leave bruises.

“Don’t sass me, girl. You might make me change my mind,” he grumbled.

I heard the clink of ice against crystal a moment before he raised a tumbler of liquor to his mouth.

“About what?” I questioned, even though I wanted to talk to him like I wanted bamboo splinters under my fingernails.

“About warning you,” he said, so low I almost couldn’t hear him.

Instinctively, I stepped closer, and he pinned me with eyes that were only a few shades darker than his sons’.

“You don’t know what kind of game is being played around you,” he continued, and there was a mad glint in his gaze I wasn’t sure I could attribute to his obvious drunkenness. “You probably want to trust Dario, the husband you think you know, but is he so much better than Luca? Dario has never been happy with his position in the Family, not even after he took over as capo dei capi. Perhaps this is all an elaborate ruse so he can finally be free of us. The ones he hates and the duty he wears like an albatross around his neck.”

Something in my heart twanged, a string snapping on a discordant note that hurt.

Was Dario really so miserable in our marriage that he would stage his own death? I couldn’t believe it, not because I thought he harbored a secret love for me but because he was someone who faced life head on. If he was miserable, he would divorce me or move me to some sequestered location so he didn’t have to worry about me anymore. If he hated being capo, wouldn’t he just . . . stop?

But I knew better than most that you could never leave the life.

Not alive, at least.