Page 55 of Unholy Union
I keep walking, taking a sip from my water.
My mind is made up. Now all I need to do is figure out a way to get it done.
When I’m finally permitted to visit home and see my father for the first time since getting married, it comes with a major caveat—Cato’s right-hand man, Lazaro Zanetti, must be my chaperone for the day.
It’s basically the same as having Cato breathing down my neck. Maybe even worse, considering Lazaro is his attack dog.
The six-foot-five enforcer is a man of few words and has never been known to smile in his life. He waits for me at the foot of the stairs on the morning we’re set to drive out, the scars on his face the least of what makes him look mean and unfriendly.
It’s more like the permanent scowl he wears at any given time, combined with his hard, unnerving stare.
“Ready, princess?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, instead turning toward the front door. I sigh, and trail behind him.
Our drive is a long, silent one. Mostly because the Valente estate is in Old Westbury while Papi lives further northeast in Mill Neck.
I sit in the back seat and busy myself on my phone, texting Tessa. She’s asked to meet up for lunch, but unfortunately I’ve had to turn her down.
Cato agreed to let me see my father for a couple hours this morning; he said nothing about a lunch date with my best friend.
Honestly, I’m not even sure why he’s letting me see Papi. Part of me is on guard even as I text Tessa back.
Gonna need a rain check.
that husband of yours is an overlord
Trust me. I know.
Lmk if you ever want me to bust you out of prison
I smirk to myself, appreciating her humor, even if it’s from afar. It’s still hard to accept that my life’s changed so much so quickly.
Just a few weeks ago I had been looking forward to spending a summer in Europe with Tessa, traveling and sightseeing, before we both got serious and focused on our post-college careers.
But now here I am, married and on a chaperoned visit to see my father.
Lazaro pulls through the wrought-iron gates that surround the Corsini estate. Security waves him on once they’ve verified who he is and that he’s actually transporting the don’s daughter for the agreed upon visit.
The familiar pale stone walls and high, arched windows of my lifelong family home come into view.
My heart aches, wishing I were returning to stay for good.
Nella waits by the door, ready to yank me into a tight mama-bear hug the second I’m within reach.
“Bambina, spero che tu stia bene. Ti sei protetta?” she mutters into my curls, squeezing me harder. “Ho pregato per te.”
I thank her for the kind words, tempted to broach the subject of the rosary, but we’re interrupted before I can.
“My princess!” Papi cries out, opening his arms wide.
For a split second, it’s almost like I’m a small girl again. I can’t help the giddy smile that comes to my face as I turn toward him and a sense of peace fills me.
Finally, myrealfamily.
I go to him, running into his waiting arms like I used to when I was five. He strokes my curls like he used to then as well, swaying on the spot like old times.
It’s a wonderful moment that even Lazaro can’t ruin. He’s hovering in the background, an intruder among us.
