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Will my need to be with Carlo, Alessio, and Bruno be enough to get me through an evening in that house, with the don? And enough to endure Jago’s cooking?
“Come at six.” Bruno adds his weight. “You know how the don likes to eat ridiculously early.”
I’m trying to think of a way to say, Why not after dinner instead? but they’re all getting ready to leave.
“Why did you two come?” I’m asking Alessio and Bruno. “Carlo was coming here already.”
I’m reaching. I know what I want to hear. That they wanted to see me. That they missed me. That they had to come.
So, I suppose the reaction I do get serves me right.
Alessio’s voice is firm. “We came to look after Carlo. To make sure that he’s okay.”
“Why, what did you think was going to happen to him? Did you think I was going to kidnap him or cook him up in a stew?”
“Lucy,” Bruno’s tone is hard, too. “We’re all in love with you, I’m sure you know that,” blood rushes to my head. I feel like I’m going to collapse, “but Carlo is in the deepest.”
Alessio nods, “And we don’t know if we can trust you.”
“What? Why?”
“The business with the raid. We don’t know if you’re being completely straight with us.”
“I don’t understand. What makes you think that?”
Carlo says, “The don.”
I tell him, “I don’t know why he’s saying things about me, but they’re not true.”
“What about the Crespis?” Bruno asks. “It seems odd that Gianni Crespi was working under your family, but when that happens to him and his eldest boy, you know nothing about it.”
“And the day it happened,” Alessio says, “was the day you first came to our house.”
Carlo’s eyes harden. “I don’t like coincidences.”
Now I feel trapped between them. I heard what they said about it at the time. How it was an ‘outrage.’ So, if I tell them it was all my doing, how are they going to see me after that?
They’re turning again to go.
I don’t want to tell them. There’s no way to know how badly that could turn out. I even find myself wishing I had some way to defend myself. A weapon, even.
But I feel like if I tell them the truth about this thing, they might see that I’m not holding back, or holding out on them. That they can trust me. There’s no other way. I don’t want to do it, but I sense that if I can’t turn this around now, I might not get another chance.
“Don’t go.” They pay no attention. I lower my voice and project it. It comes out strong. Clear. I like that sound. It stops them in their tracks when I say, “Stop.”
Slowly, all three men turn their glaring eyes back onto me.
“I haven’t lied to you.” It should be a good start, but like three hanging judges they drill their eyes into me. “I didn’t ever say that I didn’t know what happened to the Crespis.” Heads tilt. They all draw breath. I hurry on, “I did stay quiet to let you think it. But you have to know that I did not tell you one single lie.”
“I knew it.” Alessio turns back fully to face me. “Your dad, Don Benedetti, he was behind it, right?” As he looks in my eyes, I get a flash of him that first night. In the limo. His cock swelling and hardening in my hand. Him losing control.
Bruno says, “It was a professional hit team, that’s obvious. Out of town, most likely ex-military or special forces.”
Carlo stops me short. He’s quiet, asking, “Was it because the taste Crespi kicked up to Don Benedetti was getting lighter each week?”
I watch him as I respond.
“How did you know about that?”
