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“Says the kettle to the pot.”
Severio throws up his hands. “What if she says yes?”
“She won’t.”
Severio walks up to the screen and looks directly at the camera. “Ask her anyway.”
I grab my phone for a closeup too. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“God damn it!” Severio curses.
“Our marriage arrangement is over. She understands. I understand. Everything is fine on our end, and you will not touch a hair on her head, Severio, or I swear to our dead parents and ancestors, I’ll make you pay for it.”
Severio looks past my shoulder.
Fuck.
I turn to see Michela dressed in a mustard-yellow summer dress. She’s holding the duffel and wiping her tears. Severio wanted her to hear every word, seeing as how he spoke mostly in English.
I hang up with Severio at the same time that my wife makes a beeline for the front door.
42
LEAVING ME
MICHELA
Most often, Corrado converses with his brother in Italian. Sometimes in French and rarely in English, but tonight, lots of what was said between the two was in English. And I put together the pieces that were in another language.
Like the part where his brother wants to “take care of me.” Probably in the same way Drago wanted to take care of me.
Then there was talk about my brother, which, sadly, they didn’t exchange in English. Lastly, Corrado spoke about being a monster and how no sane woman would enter a marriage with him. Which I took offense to. Not only did I enter the arrangement, I’ve come to like him, and he’s saying I’m insane for it.
Even called me insane for saving Drago’s life.
Once I heard enough, I went back to the bedroom and dressed, then came out just in time to hear Corrado tell his brother how our arrangement is over. He’s brought me here to hide out, and then he’ll leave. I want to spare us both the parting and goodbyes (I hate those).
I turn the doorknob and open the front door.
A palm slaps above my head and slams the door closed. I try opening it to no avail. Corrado’s strength overpowers mine. I spin around and look up at him.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Jesse’s.” If he’ll have me.
“Can’t let you do that,” he says.
“You can’t stop me unless you shoot me.”
“We’ll see about that.” With his left hand, he reaches for a metal box next to the door. Eyes on me, he punches in numbers that trigger a bunch of clicks inside the house. Next, the shutters slam down, and tiny emergency lights come on.
I look around the darkened house. “What did you do?”
“I punched in the code for panic.”
“Like a lockdown?”
He nods.
