Page 21 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

The women’s gossip grapevine reaches far butmaybe not far enough to touch AemeliaLambretti.

“I can’t tell you, Mama. What’s cooking?”

“Wait and see.”

“I bought you some cannoli from that place youlike.”

“You did?” I hand her the bag, and she opensit to look inside. She can make great cannoli, but this place does somethingspecial with pistachio and rose that she can’t seem to replicate.

“Grazie.”Her beaming face chases away some of the rage I’ve been feeling since theLambrettiissue rose to the surface. She sits me down atthe table and assembles a huge plate of veal and pasta. I wolf it down whileshe watches from the adjacent chair with a satisfied smile. Nothing, literallynothing in this world, makes her as happy as feeding her kids.

“I spoke to your sister. She’s enjoying herhoneymoon.”

I dab my mouth. “I don’t think I want to know.”

Her blue eyes narrow beneath a frown. “Don’tbe disgusting, Alexis. She’s talking about the hotel and sightseeing.”

I go back to eating.

“She told me that she thought she saw AemeliaLambrettiat the wedding.” Mama arches a brow, and cups herhands over her stomach, smoothing her floral dress.

“Really? She wasn’t on the guest list.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Why did she think it was Aemelia?”

“She said there was a girl serving who lookedjust like CarmellaLambrettidid when she was young.”

“I didn’t notice anyone like that.” I don’tmeet her eyes because she’s a hawk for lies.

Mama nods, offering me homemade bread from abowl to dip up the sauce left on my plate. “CarmellaLambrettiwas trouble,” she says. “I don’t know why she ended up with that man, Carlo.She was a beautiful girl who settled for the first man to look in herdirection, then regretted her decision every day.”

“She did?”

“She wanted your brother.”

That’s news to me. “Which one?”

She crosses herself, closing her eyes as shedoes it. “Mario.”

I frown, dropping the bread to the plate. “CarmellaLambrettiwanted Mario?”

“She looked at him like he was king of theworld.”

I used to look at him the same way. My olderbrotherwasmy world. My protector.My champion. My greatest supporter. He was more like a father, filling the gapour actual father left in our lives, firstly because of the responsibilities ofbeing a boss, and then when cancer stole him. Losing Mario carved out my heartand left a jagged wound behind that has never healed.

“I think he wanted her, too.”

I lean back in my chair considering. “Well,Mario wasn’t selective when it came to women.”

“Not like that.” Mama screws up her face. “Whyis your mind always in the gutter?”

“He wanted to have an affair with her?”

Even though the fifties are a long time ago,that era is still alive and well in Sicilian households. Divorce isn’t justfrowned upon, it’s forbidden in most circumstances. Mama shrugs. “He’s gone soit doesn’t matter.”

The day we put my brother in the ground, Iwanted to go with him. Living on with the pain, not just my own but my wholefamily’s, felt impossible. It was Luca who held me up, cooland collected even under such terrible circumstances, even though he’d taken abullet himself. I’ve never seen him cry, even when we went to identify Mario’scorpse. Sometimes I wonder if he even has a heart in his chest but then I seehim with Mama and Rosita and watch how seriously he works to keep everyone inour family safe and I know he has enough.

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