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“Uncle Jerry.”
“I don’t think I know him.”
“No, you probably don’t.” Probably? He knows that I don’t. “I’ll introduce you.”
“You’re not bringing him to dinner tonight, are you?”
“Hell, no.”
“But you are coming.”
“I may be late.” His tone is one I don’t recognize. It’s flat and empty.
“Alessio, are you saying you may be late but you are coming, or you might not be coming? Or is this you telling me that you’re not coming to dinner?” God, this is what old married couples sound like in restaurants. Scrapping and wrestling each other for details. Bickering about tiny things and getting lost in arguing about who said what and how they said it.
I don’t remember us ever being like this with each other. What’s brought this on?
Then he tells me, “I’ll call you. Or text you.”
So, all that and I still don’t know whether he’s coming, if I’m going to see him or not.
All that I feel certain of is there’s a whole lot Alessio is not telling me about this uncle Jerry.
CHAPTER FIVE
Iwant to cook something simple for my princes for dinner tonight. Fresh Italian pasta with a strong, nourishing sauce. They always have huge appetites. For everything.
A rise, deep in my gut, lifts with the anticipation. I’ll be eating with them. Watching across the table as Alessio devours whatever is on his plate like a caveman in a five thousand dollar suit.
Seeing Bruno’s eyelids droop and flicker in little hints of pleasure, as the massive athlete savors every texture and taste. The light in his eyes as he finds a flavor clearly shows a man who lives through his senses.
And Carlo. The youngest. The genius. My darkest dark prince, consuming his food like a star swallowing lesser galaxies, gaining energy. Growing intense eat. Hungrily swallowing light for nourishment.
I love watching them wolf and devour food. It’s up there with watching them wolf and devour me.
The question is, before or after? Or both?
Julio, an artisan in the market makes pasta every day, freshly rolled and baked on his stall. After I see what else is fresh, I’ll decide what to buy and cook. All I need is good ingredients to nourish my men.
The relationships between my princes are complicated. They carry the Fortuna name, they all grew up in the old Fortuna house, but they really aren’t brothers at all. There’s no blood relationship between them. Some characteristics they definitely have in common, but they’re all what you would call nurture rather than nature.
Alessio. Tall, straight up like a rod. He is built. Hot, with ice blue eyes that can pierce me from across a football stadium. His whole life has been a preparation to take over the Famiglia Fortuna. To take over from his father and become the don.
The first time I saw Alessio, with the size of his hands and that cold steel glow under his hooded eyes, he terrified me. Staring down at me from a balcony in that spooky old gothic house, arrogant as all hell, I tried not to show it but he really did scare the pants off me.
Well, I took over the family, and Alessio with it. As well as Bruno and Carlo. In the end, when I took charge of the family, the brothers were all very willing parties. The don died, taking my dark secret with him, and Alessio never took the crown. I did.
Through his stony face, it’s impossible to know how much he was relieved and how much anger and frustration he held back. Anger and frustration because, however much he wanted the partnership between the three brothers and me, his father had always told him that the day would come for him to become the head of the family.
I know he felt the loss of that prize, and he never let it show. Not even the slightest trace. Maybe I will never know his true feelings about being passed over for the crown, of watching as I more or less snatched it from over his head.
My three mafia men all have their own strengths, their own power. There are things about each of them that make them complete me. And, they tell me, I complete, them.
Alessio told me once, “Before you, we were just three headstrong, iron-willed men, rebels without a clue, fighting over toys and weapons. You brought us together. Made us a family. Crafted and molded us into a powerful dynasty.”
I reminded him, “You said you Fortuna boys were the ‘F’ word.”
“We thought we were. You pulled us together, made a force out of the four of us. Now, with you, we are the ‘F’word.”
