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Nera stared at him. “You’ve never eaten the panna cotta when I make it.”
“No.” Antonio sighed, his smile softening. “How can I, when it was the last thing my mother ever ate? I forced it down her throat, poison and all. Vittore and Giovanni Sr. were so proud that day.” His laugh sounded hollow, even to him. “I wondered why they hadn’t just killed my mother. Especially later, after our father killed Inessa.” He’d been concerned for his brother at the time, but a part of him had been jealous again. His father hadn’t saved him from killing his own mother.
“Vittore took me under his wing when my mother was gone. He explained why it had to be me who killed her. They had given me the opportunity to prove myself, and I took it.” His uncle’s face rose in his mind. How often had his uncle’s approving smile shored up that kernel of self-hatred in Antonio? “Vittore was always calculating.” He looked at his sister-in-law. “Sounds like someone else you know, doesn’t it?”
Nera threw her arms around him, her head pressing hard against his chest. “No. You’re different, Antonio. Yes, you’re calculating, but as a way to defend, to protect. Not as a way to test someone.”
Antonio pushed her back, holding her at arm’s length. “Enzo is right. You’re perfect for Giovanni.”
She didn’t fling herself at him again. She glared at him instead. “I don’t like this, Antonio. It’s like you think you don’t deserve to be happy.”
“I am happy, Nera.” Antonio wasn’t surprised when her glare deepened. “Every time Giovanni is happy, I’m happy.”
She muttered something he didn’t quite hear and picked up her knife again. Her slicing hit the cutting board harder now, but he didn’t warn her to be careful.
“Your suspicions are right, though. I was the one who didn’t want Giovanni to know we were brothers. I’m not sure why the older generation let me have that. We could ask Enzo.” He knew he wouldn’t be asking, but he could picture Nera confronting his uncle. Strength and fearlessness were mixed in with Nera’s softness and warmth. “You’ve already uncovered my reason for wanting to keep it from him.”
Her knife paused. “You were more alike than you both realized.” She sighed before continuing her prep. “You both struggled with self-worth.”
Giovanni had always been so much worse, though, and Antonio hadn’t wanted to add to his brother’s struggles. Not when he’d once cheered for those who tore his brother down.
Killing his mother had been a choice. One he’d never regretted making.
Afterward, Antonio had beaten down the Di Salvos who had disrespected his brother. Did that make him a hypocrite? Maybe. But without that hypocrisy, he wondered if his own loyalty would have been tested more over the years.
He hated Vittore, but his uncle had been the catalyst of the choice that had changed his life.
“There’s something you keep forgetting, Antonio.” Nera met his eyes again. “Giovanni is stronger than either you or he thinks. It’s a different kind of strength, one I adore with all my heart.” Her hand moved to her stomach. “One I hope our daughter is gifted with.”
“Your daughter is going to be special, Nera. And as much as I love my brother, a big part of that specialness is you.”
She nodded. Nera knew her own worth, and she was going to be a mother who instilled that sense of self-worth into any child she had.
Antonio’s sole purpose was to ensure she and Giovanni lived. He hoped to sacrifice enough that he died well before either of them, so he wouldn’t have to see what life was like without them.
Chapter 23
Beatrice folded her arms as she stared at Vespa.
“You’re not fucking serious?” Vespa snapped.
“I agree with Bea.” Montrell had that look on his face that meant he’d made up his mind.
Vespa ignored it as guilt and fury tangled in her gut. “There’s no fucking way! I go where you go.”
Montrell’s hand felt like it branded her where it landed in a pat on her good shoulder. “Not this time. With good reason. Ves—”
“No!” Vespa shouted, hating the placating tone he was using. Her brain was firing in all different directions. She knew she could argue this better if she could think and not panic. “No,” was all she managed to say, though she didn’t shout it again.
The capos had all gone silent. She tried to drag air into her lungs. Montrell and Beatrice were going to face down Rossi in a meeting, and they thought it best that she wasn’t there. Fuck that idea all the way to hell.
Beatrice’s gaze slid away from Vespa. “Let us have the room,” she said to the capos.
Vespa didn’t care that everyone shuffled out. She was glad they listened to their new consigliere. Beatrice deserved all the respect in the world. Even when she was wrong.
“You’re not changing my mind,” Vespa said before the door closed. “I’m best with a gun, even with this shoulder. Hell, I’ll take the sling off so both hands are free.”
“That you’re planning on shooting is another reason to make this choice,” Beatrice said. Her eyes slid to Montrell. “Honestly, you shouldn’t be there either. Am I consigliere or not?”
