Page 13 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
You’re a Vitali.
Vitalis don’t feel fear.
I repeated the mantra Papà had forced on me since birth until my feelings slipped away, leaving an emotionless façade. I only ever had to try to remain aloof around Damian. Usually, emotional distance came naturally to me. With Damian nearby? Not so much.
My heels wobbled as they sunk into the plush grass as I walked past the rows of tombstones surrounding me. New York could be unpredictable in the summer, but the weather this year sweltered more than usual. Today, however, was nice enough. I didn’t know if that made me happy or sad. Vincent probably would’ve thought it was hilarious to be buried under the ground on the one nice summer day this year when he wasn’t around to even appreciate it. I, on the other hand, didn’t have Vincent’s humor.
I stood near the front, far enough away to be respectful of the Romano family and close enough to adhere to the Vitali’s place at the top of the hierarchy. The crowd for the burial ceremony outnumbered the closed casket viewing earlier. Vincent Romano clearly earned the respect of many, though that didn’t surprise me.
My eyes remained forward as Lucy Black sidled next to me, her husband Asher—the Romano’s former fixer—a couple rows ahead of us. I didn’t know her. She didn’t know me. Why was she next to me?
“Hey, I’m Lucy.” Her eyes shifted to me. “Are you a Romano? I’ve never seen you around.”
Oh.
She didn’t know who I was.
My brows furrowed until I realized she only asked because I stood in a row ordinarily reserved for the Romano family. “Vitali. Renata Vitali.” The instinct to flee settled deep in my legs. I had to force them to stay rooted to the ground.
“Oh.” She paused a beat, and we stood in silence as the crowd grew in size. Pretty soon, we’d exceed the maximum capacity of the private cemetery. “I like your hair.”
Were married people always this congenial? Couldn’t she be happy next to her husband?
“Thank you.”
She paused a beat. “He keeps staring at you.” She bit her bottom lip, like she was stopping herself from saying more.
I dug my nails into the sides of my thighs. My eyes begged me to turn and meet his gaze. Instead, I grit out, “Who?” I didn’t need to ask to know Damian stared at me from a few rows behind us, but not asking revealed more than I wanted to a stranger.
“Damiano De Luca.”
His name sounded wrong coming from her lips, like it wasn’t meant for her to say. It didn’t escape my notice that I didn’t hold any claim over him. Then again, it was me he stared at. Thousands of people gathered here today to mourn Vincent Romano’s life, and he’d been staring at me since I clocked him earlier.
The attraction we once had still persisted because all of me stood on alert, too close to breathless for comfort. I was used to attention. I never wanted it, yet I had attracted it all my life. But even though I’d spent fourteen months blossoming under Damian’s attention, I’d never gotten used to it.
I forced myself to speak. “You’ve met him?”
“Asher introduced us earlier.” She kept her eyes averted from Vincent’s casket up front, and it occurred to me that she might have started this conversation to distract herself. “He’s kind of intimidating. Actually, not just kind of. He’s really intimating.”
I couldn’t imagine having the privilege of speaking so freely.
I felt Damian’s eyes as I shifted. “I’m sure there are women who think the same of your husband.”
“True. But my husband isn’t staring at me like that right now, and we’re newlyweds.”
Why was it so hard to breathe?
I forced myself not to adjust the collar of my dress. “Perhaps the De Lucas are still as ill-mannered as they used to be. We’re at a funeral after all, and it’s rude to stare.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Lucy giggled a little, which startled me given the setting. “Sorry, I’m a tad bit tipsy. Okay, I’m really tipsy, and I’m trying so hard not to talk a lot right now, but I really want to talk a lot. I don’t know why I had to drink so much today.”
Right.
Syndicate funerals involved an unreasonable amount of drinking. Shots with the immediate family before the viewing. Shots during the viewing. Shots before the burial. Shots after the burial.
Shots at dinner. Shots at the remembrance party. Shots to close the funeral day. Lucy had no meat on her. She didn’t stand a chance.
“Eat a big meal before Vincent’s life remembrance party tonight.” I glanced at her, studied her glazed eyes, and ignored the way Damian’s attention made my skin itch. “And stop by Duane Read for charcoal or carbon capsules.”
