Page 36 of Mafia King of Lies

My eyes continue to move from the living room to the dining area and then to the large grand piano that sits off the corner.

“No thank you,” I say absently. “I think I need some sleep right now. We can do all the grand tours later.”

“Of course, please follow me to your room.” There was a subtle emphasis to the word ‘your’ but I don’t think on it too much. “Mr. Davacalli made sure that it was ready upon your arrival.”

We walk up the spiral stairs that take us to the second floor. I notice as we walk that there is little to no personalization in this place.

“Has Matteo lived here alone long?” I ask as I look at the empty walls. No family. No friends. Just a cold and void mansion with no real life.

Emily looks over her shoulder at me. “Mr. Davacalli used to live on the outskirts of the city. The Davacalli manor. But after his wife died, he decided to come back into the city. The reasoning was he wanted to be closer to work, but I think it’s because he misses his late wife—Beatrice.”

Her name sends shock waves through my system. Until recently, she had been married to him. She had been the one at his side, and now I had come in as her replacement.

“He loved her?” The questions slip past my lips.

We pause at one of the doors at the end of the hallway. Emily turns to me fully with a distant glint in her eyes.

“She humanized him. She brought out the softer side to his darkness that the rest of the world never got to see.” It’s the softness that she speaks of her. I can tell that Beatrice made lasting impacts on everyone. “Here is your room, Mrs. Davacalli.”

She opens the door and I am immediately stunned.

“This…” I walk into the oak-floored room as my eyes dart from corner to corner. Apart from the wall of windows that displays the New York skyline, this is a dead ringer for my room back home. The beige and white color scheme litters the room, from the bedding to the white oak furniture that decorates the area.

“Mr. Davacalli gave me inspiration from your old room. He wanted you to feel right at home. He requested that the same fine bed linens be imported from Italy.” Emily still stands at thedoor. “I will leave you to rest. I will be back with lunch a little later. Or would you like something to eat now?”

“Uh, no, I ate on the jet. Thank you, Emily.” I tear my eyes from the paintings that hang from the wall. “You’ve been lovely, truly.”

Her eyes light with joy and she nods before she closes the door, leaving me in my room.

I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh scent of wood and fabric softener that wafts into my senses. I walk over to the bed, my heart lurching in the center of my chest.

He did all of this…

The sight of my room—a near-perfect replica of the one I left behind—catches me off guard. I shouldn’t feel grateful. But the warmth creeping into my chest tells me otherwise.

“I guess you aren’t as much of a brute as I thought.” I plop myself onto the bed and take out my phone from my back pocket. I scroll through my contacts until I reach one particular name that I never imagined I would ever dial, but here I am.

“Don’t be a wuss, Maria.” I try to give myself my version of a pep talk. “He’s just a human who bleeds red and breathes air like the rest of us.”

I click on the name, a lump finding its way into the center of my throat. I bite down on my tongue, my fingers hovering over the keypad before I finally decided to type the first word.

Will you be home for dinner?

I toss my phone onto the mattress, my chest rising and falling in frantic waves. I can’t believe that I am panicking over sending a text to my husband.

My phone vibrates. I reach for it, not sure what to expect as his response.

No, we have a gala to attend to. I will have a dress sent over to you and the car will bring you to the venue.

“A gala?” I spit. “Already? Day one?”

I know there will be many galas that I will need to attend, but I at least thought he would give me a little heads up. I just got off a plane no more than two hours ago, and now he wants me to be ready for a party even though I am battling jet lag? Criminal.

I throw myself back onto my pillows and sigh heavily to the ceiling. The morning rays stream in through the large windows. The sight from this high up is beautiful. But the anxiety of what is to come keeps me from fully appreciating its beauty.

“Fucking hell.” I turn back into my pillow and scream. Fatigue finds me, and suddenly, I’m plunged into a sleep my body so desperately needs.

The next time I open my eyes, the sun is setting behind the skyscrapers. Before I can answer the door, it opens, and in walks Emily with a rack of gowns and that same smile on her face.

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