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I take a sip of water. He makes small talk. That raises my suspicions even higher. Alessio never makes chit-chat.
If I was asked, I would have guessed he didn’t know how to do it. He’s so epically bad that his attempts are usually hilarious. I’m tempted to let him go on, but I’m not in a jokey mood and the suspense and frustration are killing me.
“So, what is this, Alessio?”
I’m watching the stillness in his face. The strong and steady rise and fall of his chest. “You had the whole of la Castellano cleared. I know you have men around the block outside. Since when do either of us need to make a pageant out of a table to meet in a restaurant? What do you think is going to happen here?”
He raises a hand to summon the waiter.
Outwardly, he looks serene. But I know my Alessio. I can see the dark swirl of storm clouds, far behind his eyes. He can’t conceal the small, rhythmic shake of his knee.
I don’t have to see his heel bobbing in the hand-made English brogues to know that, while he looks like a classical statue of a pensive warrior, an impassive marble Michelangelo, underneath his composure, his nerves are crackling.
You can fool most men, Alessio, and probably any woman, but you can’t hide from me. I’ve felt, seen and tasted your deepest, darkest needs and desires. I know the sounds you make in your sleep. Every time you clear your throat, every hidden glance you flick, I know you.
He takes a long breath though his nostrils. “It’s great news, Luciana.” Why doesn’t that reassure me?
I can’t disguise my breathlessness. “So, tell me.”
“You know I told you about my uncle Jerry coming here from Chicago, right?”
Well, I already guessed that he was going to figure heavily in the mix. I can pinpoint the start of Alessio’s personality shift to the moment he first mentioned his uncle coming to Seattle.
Since then, I noticed a faint but unmistakeable chill blowing around our relationship. Still, I hold my tongue and wait some more, though it’s getting hard not to fidget. When my body wants to move, I always try to listen to it. My instincts are strong and they’ve served me well.
“What is it, Alessio?” My eyes narrow. He doesn’t blink. “What’s going on?”
“It’s huge news, Lucianna. I can’t wait to tell you. Uncle Jerry told me that Chicago are thinking about going to the commission. Putting us forward for franchise.” He pauses. Watching me for a reaction. I keep my face perfectly still. “Us. Here in Seattle.”
I know that it always grated with the boys that we’re not recognized by the coast to coast mob. That nobody in the Pacific Northwest is affiliated by the Commission. Here in Seattle, being a made guy is not the same as it is in New York or Miami, Las Vegas, Boston, New Jersey.
Even the Dixie Mafia are more officially acknowledged than any of us are.
The subject has come up. We’ve spoken about it, many times.
I don’t care and I never did. I’ve already got parity with all the other women in the Life, since there’s no such thing as a made woman, not here or anywhere else, so. We have no official status. That’s all there is to it.
The coast to coast mob and their precious Commission love to talk about ‘made guys’ but the phrase ‘made woman’ or even ‘made gal’ is never heard. Whenever the subject comes up, I generally stay quiet.
“We’ll have complete protection.” His voice rumbles in the back of his throat.
“Protection from what, Alessio?” My brow tighten and I narrow my eyes. “We’re the F-Word. What do we need protecting from?”
Alessio races on. “Not only that,” He can’t hide his excitement, “Uncle Jerry talked about making us the lead family.” His eyes gleam as he stops for a breath. “Us. The Fortunas. Over the Romanos, even over the Puccis.”
The question that’s burning to get out of my chest is, why hasn’t Uncle Jerry been making these points to me, since I’m the acknowledged head of the family? But I could make some guesses at the answer.
I’m here to listen. It’s getting harder, but I resist and hold back against the urge to speak. However strong the temptation gets, I stay quiet and let Alessio go on.
He’s still bursting with the news, so it could be a while before he notices me not saying anything.
“We would be franchised, Lucianna. Not only us here in Seattle, but everybody. All over Washington state. Oregon, too.”
Lucianna. He never calls me that. I sit straighter in the chair. I think I can see what’s coming. I might need a glass of wine after all.
“Think of it. Us. Not only made and franchised, but the top of the heap.” His nostrils flare and his eyes gleam hard like sapphires. “Us, Lucianna. Us.”
I let the crisp Sicillian white slip down my throat. The bright chill starts to trickle through me. Shiny sensations sparkle out to stir and tease my senses.
