Page 63 of Veil of Vengeance

“Oh, just a second, dear. I’ll grab a couple of things for you. Would you like a drink as well?” Her eyes are so kind and gentle as she regards me.

“Uh… yes, please. Thank you…” I trail off.

“Lydia, my name is Lydia,” she supplies as she heads to the pantry.

“Thank you, Lydia,” I call after her. I notice that the woman with the platinum hair is watching me with narrowed eyes. I don’t cower, nor do I avoid her stare, and her face twists in a snarl.

“You know that he’ll discard of you once he’s done fucking you,” she says. My fists clench as I try to not flinch at the tone of her voice.

“Of course, you’d know about being discarded.” My reply is sharp. I don’t want to fight with her, but I’m not going to let her walk all over me. Whoever she is, she clearly thinks she holds some special place in the Capo’s life. I don’t care enough to fight with her about it. But if she wants to attack me and slut shame me for something that hasn’t even happened, then she’s got something else coming towards her.

“Ginevra, leave the poor girl alone. Aren’t you married? Act like it.” Lydia walks back in with a small tray of cheese, bread, and jam. She places a pitcher and a small cup on the tray. Ginevra gives me one last glare before going back to look over the pots on the stove. The girl with the black hair and pink streaks throws me a curious look before going back to her work. Lydia heads my way with a soft smile and hands me the tray.

“Thank you.” I grab the handles of the tray.

“You’re welcome. I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Valentina, but you can call me Val, if you’d like,” I say, and she nods.

“Leave some space for dinner. We’re making Pasta alla Genovese,Sfogliatella, and Casatiello for dinner.” She tells me.

I give her a smile and make my way back to Emiliano’s room. ??

I eat till my stomach no longer hurts and is comfortably full. In the corner of Emiliano’s living room, there’s a cream bookshelf with gold lining the edges. It looks like it has around sixty books, all ranging from dark literature, some classics, and to my surprise, fantasy.

I wouldn’t have thought of him as an avid fantasy reader, but there’s at least ten fantasy novels on his shelf. I pick the one which has the most worn-out edges, running my finger on the spine.

The Name of the Wind. I flick through the pages and notice some of the words are underlined or highlighted. The door opens, and I turn around to see who’s come in.

“Hi, I know Mom said that you wanted to be alone, but I just wanted to check on you,” Mara explains as she shuts the door behind her.

“I’m fine, thank you. It’s okay, don't worry about it. I enjoy your company, not that I don’t enjoy your Mom’s.”

Mara nods as she watches me with a playful smile. She notices the book in my hand.

“Emiliano loves that book. I remember when I was younger, I used to see him always carrying it with him,” she tells me, and I gobble up that piece of information, because to me, he’s still just the Capo of the Camorra.

“I didn’t think he’d be a fantasy reader,” I say. She heads to the couch, and my throat closes as I watch her getting closer. Once she reaches it, she heads to one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, I can see why you’d say that. He’s honestly become a different person in the last three months,” she says as she settles in. I tilt my head, confused by what she means. Her gray eyes widen as she looks at me before her eyes dart around the room as if she said something that I am not meant to know.

“Is there a reason he likes to read fantasy?” I ask. Someone like Emiliano doesn’t just randomly pick up a fantasy book one day and decide to become obsessed with it till the book spine becomes worn.

“My nonna on my Mom’s side was an avid fantasy reader, but she also liked to collect rare fantasy editions of books. I never met her, but I heard she and Emiliano were very close till her death,” she tells me. My thumb lightly feathers the worn-out spine of the book as I imagine a young Emiliano reading with an older woman. I bite back a smile. “Do you think you’ll be going back soon?”

My eyebrows pull together as I regard her, trying to figure out if she knows about what happened. No, I’m just being paranoid.

“No, I don’t. Why?” I ask, and she shrugs.

“I heard my brothers talking about demanding someone in exchange for you.”

My stomach drops, but something stronger swirls in my chest. Suspicion. I take some steps closer to Mara. Why is she telling me this? Did someone put her up to this? I chase those thoughts away as I sit on the couch and face her.

“Do you know who they might be exchanging me for?” I ask, hopeful that she might have overheard that as well.

“I think his name was Guiseppe, if I didn’t hear wrong. But I’m not sure, sorry.”

This is what Dad must have been screaming at my uncle about. Giuseppe must have snuck into Camorra territory, causing this attack.

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