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Pedro tensed next to her. It was just the three of them, and they all knew who Giorgia was referring to. Lorenzo’s killer: Viking Skarsgard, underboss of the Romanov Bratva. Though Viking was so much more than that. Another thing they all knew, but never spoke of.
When Giorgia didn’t get a rise out of her, she tried again. “Becoming a widow at your age. I don’t envy you.”
Classic Giorgia, pretending that, at thirty-four, Elena was ready to be put out to pasture. She seemed to forget they only were two years apart and, in fact, Giorgia was older.
“And then there’s also Vicky, who—”
Elena grabbed her hand and pulled her close, pretending like they were hugging. “Don’t,” she said, as she crushed Giorgia’s fingers. “You mention her name again and this time, I’ll blacken both your eyes.”
Her knuckles turned white thinking of that night sixteen years ago when she’d put her fist in her cousin’s face.
Such a sweet memory…
Giorgia winced but wisely kept her mouth shut. The second Elena let her go, she scurried away like the poisonous scorpion she was.
Elena got back into a car, feeling exhausted as her driver took her back to the mansion.
Several of Lorenzo’s aunts followed her into the house, handing her casseroles and massive plates of food. Two of them, the queens of gossip, were talking while putting their plates into the fridge.
“At least Lorenzo’s line didn’t die with him.” Elena ignored the glance thrown her way.
“I haven’t seen Victoria, have you?” another aunt said.
“They say she couldn’t make it from boarding school in time. She’ll arrive in the morning.”
Yup, Elena had made sure of that. Her baby girl had been safely tucked away in Switzerland for the past few years. Sadly, she hadn’t been able to keep her from coming after Lorenzo’s passing. It would have raised questions if she wouldn’t have come home after her “father’s” death, but Elena had bought them some time. Pedro had no use for Vicky, and she expected him to go along with leaving her alone.
“Pity he couldn’t have any more bambinos.” They sent another glance her way. This time the disapproval wasn’t even hidden in a fake smile for the “grieving” widow.
Elena returned the smile. A sincere one, as she would have rather drank bleach to poison her womb than carry Lorenzo’s child. There was only one man she had ever wanted to give children.
Her hand went to her silver lioness pendant.
He hates me.
She grabbed hold of the kitchen island. It was no use to reminisce of days gone by. The past was dead. So were her chances of ever getting back together with her wild Viking. There was only one thing she wanted out of life anymore: extract her daughter and herself from the clutches of the Morelli family.
“Hey, sis.”
Ricky.
There were moments in life Elena wished she could just blink her eyes and the person in front of her would disappear. This was one of those moments.
She blinked once. Twice. Nope, her brother was still standing in front of her, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him. He had a casserole in one hand and a beer in the other. And he would stay that way the rest of this gruesome day. Ever since Ricky had been clean, he had compensated for drugs with food. Oh, and since her marriage to Lorenzo, he’d been climbing up the ranks in the Morelli organization. He was such a pathetic mess.
“What do you want, Ricky?”
“Now, is that any way to greet your brother?”
“I’d rather not see or greet you at all.” And come tomorrow, she wouldn’t have to anymore.
His smile tightened but didn’t falter. Which meant he wanted something from her.
“Well, you have to. I mean, who else you’ve got?”
She hated it when he went all, I’m your brother. We’re all the family we’ve got on her. “Just tell me why you’re here. If you’re worried about your position, go see Pedro. I don’t have any say in the family biz.” Like he didn’t already know.
He looked around the hallway and out the kitchen window. When he made sure no one was listening in, he drew closer.
