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When I walk out of the bedroom, I look down to the open plan area. Rosalia is there, busy gathering the balloons. I don’t have the stomach to ask her if Matteo had any hand in this, because I don't want to be disappointed.
She glances up at me. “Hi,” she says with a smile. “Welcome back. And congratulations.”
I chuckle as I take the stairs. “Do you think I can talk to you now?” We’re alone without a bodyguard in sight.
Rosalia only grins, her doe eyes softening. “Suppose so.”
“Where’s Burley? And how is he doing?”
“He’s next door. The doc took the bullet out last night so he’s a bit grouchy.”
“Thank heavens for that. I’ve been worried.”
“Thanks for looking after him.” Rosalia heads to the dining table, where she ties the balloons around a table leg. “Do you want some coffee and breakfast? I can make you something?”
“Only if you join me.”
Rosalia laughs. “Don’t push your luck, Mrs. Scalera,” she says, but heads to the kitchen and waves at me to sit down at the island.
Rosalia has just drawn the line in the sand, but she’s the only person I have access to, and she’ll know things. “I have so many questions,” I start, not even knowing where to begin.
“I bet.” She places a pod in the coffee machine. “I’ll answer what I can and may answer.”
“Okay.” I smile at her, suddenly nervous as all hell. “Firstly, how do you fit in?”
“Easy. My mom used to work for Don Scalera, Matteo’s dad, as head housekeeper. She’s retired now but I met Burley at the Don’s house, you know... working.”
“Ah. Okay. And you’ve been married for…?”
“Almost a year.”
“And how many bullets has Burley taken for Matteo?” This comes across as a light question, but I need to know what level of danger my husband really functions in.
“Oh, it’s a standing joke between them. He’s good at dodging bullets. Mostly.” Her voice cracks just the tiniest bit at the end and she looks away. The coffee machine is done, and she busies herself with getting sugar and cream and everything I don’t take with my coffee. Rosalia has lived through a close call, like we all have, but she didn’t answer my question. “As for Matteo,” she continues, redirecting probably to avoid bursting out in tears, “the last time he took a bullet was when his brother Alex died, and that was before Burley started working for him.”
“Twelve years ago.” That number bugs me so much and I can’t shrug it off. “Was Matteo in any other shootouts since then?” Bar the one I was in, from which I still wake up at night in a cold sweat, until Matteo’s arms fold around me, his reassuring whispers calming me.
“I don’t know all these things.” Rosalia meets my gaze, holding hers steady. “Il Consiglio functions on a need-to-know basis. And to be honest, the less you know, the better. Trust me.”
I sense her clamming up. I’m not going to get much more out of her. Rosalia is guarding her secrets as she doesn’t trust me yet. Fair enough, trust is earned, but I’d like to take some shortcuts sometimes.
There’s no other way. I’m going to have to be frank. “What does it mean, in Il Consiglio’s frame of reference, when someone’s death has been atoned for?”
She blinks at me. “You know the quote an eye for an eye?”
“Yes, the one from the Bible.”
“Il Consiglio doesn’t do that. Rules for crime rings are different from the rules they have for civilians on the sidelines of their operations.” Rosalia shrugs as if all of this is par for the course. “The rule is simple and effective. Plus, it makes people think twice before coming for them or snitching. If you’ve killed one of theirs, they’ll kill two of yours. And you wouldn’t have seen it coming.”
You wouldn’t have seen it coming…
My stomach turns as I grip my cup. Two for one.
No. It can’t be. I can’t believe that. I won’t. Because then it means?—
My vision swims and heat prickles over my skin.
Alex has been atoned for. Stephano had said so himself.
