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Fighting the urge to abscond to the hallway, Ana raised her chin with false bravado. She had been in countless meetings with the most recalcitrant clients. Surely, this couldn’t be worse…But every nerve in her body screamed otherwise; sweat dripped down her back.
“Gio will be here in a week,” Ana said hesitantly.
“Hm. Preparations are underway.”
“Oh, thank you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
There was no sound, not even a breath, as her aunt sat unmoving. Her patience had clearly thinned. “He hasn’t asked about this…” Ana rushed to say, “But it’s been weighing on my mind…that as Don, he should know–what happened last year.”
“No.”
“I–”
Her argument was brusquely cut off as the older woman sliced a hand into the air, commanding her to stop. Auntie’s expression radiated pure disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?” She slammed a hand down over the papers, scattering them. “After settling into your new role at long last, you want to dig up the past–for what? To ruin yourself?”
“Auntie–”
“No. Do you know what he could do?” She vibrated with fear, with anger. “Not just to you, but to all of us. Everything I have worked for to give you and Antonio the positions you deserve will all be wasted. He will ruin us all!”
Ana sat stunned, her heart thudding at the volatile anxiety emanating from her aunt in waves. “We won’t be ruined. Gio will understand,” she pleaded.
He had to.
Auntie regarded her incredulously. “You must still be in the honeymoon phase if you’ve forgotten who he is. This is Giovanni we’re talking about. Our Don. He slaughtered his parents’ head of security at their funeral and then their Consigliere–in your own home.”
The scent of blood slid down her throat.
His screams still ringing in her ears.
Ana swallowed, shaking her head. “That’s why we should tell him,” she beseeched in a thready whisper. “Before he finds out from someone else.”
“He won’t. I made sure of it.” Auntie nodded assuredly.
She wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.
Ana clenched her teeth. It was sorely tempting to knock down that confidence by telling her it was too late. Celia had already voiced her suspicions about the guard, and she didn’t seem the type to keep quiet. The gossip would spread soon enough.
But once her aunt devolved into this anxious mood, there was no going back. If she heard that others were discovering the incident, it would only inflame her anxiety further.
“I don’t know why you would do this now,” Auntie continued ranting, her hands shaking visibly. “You adopted all my other lessons so well. I groomed you to perfection and gave you the Mancini name. That’s why Gio accepted you as his wife. If you tell him this now, it will ruin that perfect image he has of you.”
Ana’s lips were thin slashes of frustration.
She wasn’t perfect.
She was trapped in an image, not of her own making.
But doubt crept into her mind. She remembered how proud Gio had been after the gala…It was perfect, he’d said. Would he have said that if Ana had been anything less than perfect?
Closing her mind to the destructive thoughts, Ana shook her head. “No one can maintain a perfect image for too long. Not in front of someone like him.”
Her aunt regarded her grimly, the lines of her face underscoring her exhaustion. Something seemed to retreat within her then, the anxiety and hysteria diminishing as a new resolve took hold.
“Maybe not,” Auntie admitted tiredly. “Maybe I should give up my pride and your image and reveal it for the greater good. Then, you will see for yourself his true colors...”
The afternoon sun shifted in the sky, casting the small office into half-shadow, half-light. A streak of jagged light cut across the room, dividing Ana on one side and her aunt on the other.
“…because I know, Ana,” her aunt said quietly, “no matter how understanding Gio is, he’ll never be able to see you the same way again after you tell him what happened. Even if he wants to. Even if it isn’t fair.”
