Page 88 of Sinner's Vows

ARIANA

He didn’t have to do this to me. Turn me on with those simple words, showing me a possessive side I’m begging to see more of. I’m already a knot of nerves as we exit the bedroom into the corridor. Portia is here, and who knows what news she’s bringing. The scent of freshly brewed coffee is somehow calming as it lures us all the way to the kitchen.

As we walk inside, she’s already whipping up something in a mixing bowl. A man is sitting at the island, and as they both glance up at us, it’s clear neither of them has slept the night before.

Her eyes hold mine with a pleading stare, and I whisper to her in passing, desperate for her not to get in deeper trouble. “He knows. About the journals.”

“Nicky.” She pauses her nervous whipping as soon as my words sink in. “You must be angry about yesterday, but please?—”

“It’s okay, Portia, I’m not the fucking Don.”

Those words hang in the space, and it’s as if a ghost sweeps between us.

Portia is on the verge of tears. The man, who seems to be in his late sixties with silver hair and dressed impeccably in asuit, looks as if he’s ready to skip his last rites just to get things over with. Clearly, both of them were expecting bullets in the forehead.

“Yes, you’re not,” she says on a swallow. “This is Arturo Romano. I’m not sure if you remember him? He was one of the Don’s capos way back when. He got…early retirement.”

Dominic studies the man, and their gazes lock, and then recollection clock on Dominic’s side.

“Sir,” Arturo says as he stands and holds out his hand, seeming to recall Dominic perfectly. “You’ve grown into a much-feared man.”

“Hmm, I hope that goes for all the Scalera boys.” Dominic shakes his hand, his gaze pinning the shorter man in place. “Rosalia has your eyes.”

“Yes, my little girl. I haven’t seen her in years. Maybe now…” Arturo sits again, looking bone tired. “Rumors go around that you leftIl Consiglio, what with your security company, but now, I’m not so sure.”

At this, Dominic just cocks his brow as he pulls a stool away from the counter and holds it out for me.

“Have a seat, sweetheart,” he says as he shoots me a glance. “I believe you have information we’re looking for, Arturo. We can all talk over coffee like normal people.”

With normal people, I assume Dominic isn’t planning to torture information out of anybody yet.

“I’m Ariana,” I say as I get comfortable next to Arturo.

“I know. Portia has told me—” Arturo cuts himself off right there.

Enough to have him hanged if he speaks about this to anybody? I bet everybody have these words ringing in their heads, even if it’s dead silent in the kitchen.

“Are you making pancakes, Portia?” Dominic asks, a slice of amusement in his voice.

“Had to do something with my hands, Nicky. You must know when I realized yesterday that the timeframe spoke to the exact time Arturo left us, with reasons I never really bought into, I made the connection…and…and—” She breaks off, hands flitting over her cheeks as she gathers herself. “I had some right to the truth, didn’t I? To hear it first? So when I asked Ariana not to say a word, it wasn’t so much as to warn Arturo, but to get an understanding of what really happened twenty-two years ago and to tell him it’s safe to come forward with what he knows, as Don Scalera is dead. We haven’t seen each other in years. I had to drive to Providence, and?—”

“Take a breath, Portia. Calm down.” Dominic closes the gap between them and squeezes her shoulder. “You lost as much as we did, if not more. I’m going to make this right, okay?”

At this, Portia really lets go, and Dominic hugs her close, allowing her a good cry. Then she has him at arm’s length and shoots me a woebegone smile.

“Told you he’s the best,” she whispers at me, her eyes glistening with tears. She urges Dominic in the direction of a chair. “Sit, and have coffee, you poor boy. We all suffered in our own way.” She sniffs hard, and with a final swipe of her nose and a pat over her messy curls, indicates that she’s in control of herself again. “The batter needs to stand for a bit, so we have time to talk.”

Dominic sits as Portia gets busy pouring coffee from a stove-top espresso maker into cups.

“Here. Now, Arturo, tell them everything you know, exactly as you told me last night.”

There’s no mistaking Portia’s tone: don’t mess around, and don’t mess this up.

“Well, things were like this,” Arturo starts. “Mrs. Scalera, Bianca, was going to have a girl, and as one of your dad’s most trusted capos at the time, he charged me with arrangingan adoption for Gabriella into a mutually approved family. Don Randazzo also added his two pennies every two minutes, that fucker. In any case, it was an Italian family, part of Randazzo’s underground team, who didn’t have any children. They were living down the street from me for the first seven years, down in Providence, and then they took Gabi to Italy, as was agreed upon. All the adoption papers, everything was legally done. Correctly, per local laws, so nobody could raise a red flag.”

“Did my mom know about this?” Dominic asks.

“Yes. She never met the couple, but they were good people, for what it’s worth, in our circles. She gave your dad power of attorney, so everything was wrapped up pretty neatly.”

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