Page 102 of Souls and Sorrows

She shakes her head. “No. Cash would only be the official owner on paper. Nothing else under the table went through yet.”

Rage boils in my blood, and I raise the iron again, ready to strike.

Crying out, she holds her hands up, that cigarette still burning. Still endangering us. “Wait,dio mio. It doesn’t matter though because those protocols only slide into place upon your father’s death, so it’s—”

“Papà’s dead.”

Mamma freezes. Blinks. Looks up at me. “He’s what?”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. She drops her ankle, slumping back in the chair.

Silence bleeds in the air around us, and as despair contorts her face, Ialmostfeel bad for her.

Their marriage was shitty, but it was still the only one either of them had. Even if they haven’t seen each other in the last six years and were never faithful, I suppose I can understand why she’s upset.

Then, she brings her cigarette up, sucking on the end, and lets out a laugh that’s almost all smoke. She laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and with every breath she sucks in, my previous pity evaporates.

“Well,” she says as the laughter dissolves into a coughing fit, beating her chest with a bony fist, “you and that Primrose boy are fucked then.”

* * *

The next day,I’m at the studio when Ermes Barbieri shows up, somehow entering the building despite the front door being locked. He’s wearing a plum-colored suit and a fedora, which he tosses to the ground as soon as he steps inside.

I’m annoyed with the state of my world, so I’m not in the mood to entertain his antics. I don’t turn around when he approaches, just watching him from the reflection in the mirrors.

He brushes at a stray piece of lint on his shoulder, then stops directly behind me.

“Gattina,” he greets, though there’s no warmth or humor in his voice. Not that I’d care if there was. This is still the man who bound me in a prong collar and then choked me with it. “It’s been a while.”

When his hand lashes out, wrapping around my throat, I don’t even pretend to be shocked. Truly, it’s par for the course at this point, and I give him a flat look in the mirror.

“Do you remember,” he asks, bringing his lips close to my ear and lifting so I’m on my tiptoes, “that little envelope your husband gave me the night he took you from my possession?”

I don’t say anything. Can’t with his fingers strangling the air from my lungs.

“It appears the bank notes were counterfeits, and the serial numbers on them were being traced by several different federal agencies. Half of my men have been arrested in some massive sting operation while the other half have fled the state to avoid charges.”

He relaxes his hold on my windpipe, just slightly.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” I say, shrugging.

“Hmm,” he hums, sliding his hand down my arm and running his thumb over my diamond ring. “I’d be careful antagonizing me there, little girl. Your father isn’t around to call the shots anymore, and no one gives a shit if I put a bullet in a Ricci skull.”

My chest feels like it might explode.

“Well, except that scumbag you married.” He wraps his fingers around the ring, and I suck in a breath, already knowing what’s coming. “Hemightbe upset, although it’s likely he cares more about the power vacuum happening in the underworld right now. Since that was the entire reason he married you.”

I stare into Ermes’s eyes in the mirror, unblinking. Trying not to give away the insecurity he’s touching on—that our marriage is still primarily a sham and his end goal is just authoritarianism. The chance to have a Primrose in charge of organized crime in the state rather than being stuck as an associate on the sidelines.

His father wasn’t able to hack it, so it makes sense that he’d try to carry on the legacy. And while that’s what I initially agreed to, I didn’t think it would hurt so much to think about him actually getting it.

Didn’t think of how it might hurt to be left behind, especially this soon.

Mamma’s words from earlier ring loud in my mind, and I swallow around them, trying to keep them from entering my bloodstream. But like everything she’s ever said to me, they do, and I suddenly feel like I’m drowning again—and it’s still not as quick or painless as I imagined.

The lungs fill up slowly, taking Mamma’s vitriol and turning it into fuel. Turning me against the only person I’ve ever trusted despite everything he’s told me over the course of our relationship.

His secrets and confessions get sucked up by the waves of jealousy and madness, and I don’t know how to stop them.

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