Page 48 of The Mafia's Captive

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you talking about the twenty-one-gun salute we would do for the bridegroom?”

Images of men in tuxedos shooting at the sky filled my mind, followed by Dante with an ostentatious, gold-plated semi-auto in his hand, spraying his own barrage of bullets. “Will you be taking part in it?”

He laughs. “No! Mafia weddings, as you like to call them, are just like any other weddings. Boring and full of relatives you’d rather avoid.”

“I don’t know if your brother would appreciate calling his wedding boring.”

“I doubt he minds.”

“Gio is the one who’s getting married, right?”

“That’s right.”

I think back to the meeting. He seemed more like a calmer, more inquisitive version of Dante. He was less talkative than the others, but I couldn’t glean much more from such a short time of knowing him. “He must love Tuscany if he’s getting married here,” I say absent-mindedly. I still can’t get over the gorgeous scenery.

“He’s getting married here, because it’s our ancestral home.”

“You have an ancestral home?”

“Why? Is it such an odd thing?”

“No. But I’ve always pictured you as someone who’s more modern. Less obsessed with, I don’t know, roots.”

“You’re right. I don’t really care about the house that much. We keep it up in memory of our father.” This is the first time in a week he’s mentioned his family. Ever since the night of the punch, Dante who had opened up had closed back up and shuttered himself from me. Just when I wanted to learn more about his family. His father and his sister and this thing with Saccone. I want to know more, so I tread carefully, hoping he’ll share. “You must have loved your father.”

His face goes blank, and he looks away. Fuck. I blew it. He ignores my statement and says, “We’re here.”

I look out the window. The car is approaching a large terracotta villa on top of a hill. The corrugated iron gates open immediately after Colin gives them Dante’s name over the intercom. As the car drives up to the house, I look in awe at the beautiful landscape and the marble statues that are in the vast well-made gardens, blooming with flowers and carefully manicured shrubs. The villa itself is beautiful. It has an understated quality to it. Like it’s been there for centuries as the world around it changed.

“Wow.”

“Glad you like it.”

I’m embarrassed I said it out loud. “You never told me you were Tuscan royalty?”

He chuckles. “Nowhere near. My father took it from an enemy of his in the eighties.”

“But I thought…”

“He earned it, according to him anyway, and it was Italian, so it became the ancestral home.”

“That’s it?” I don’t know why I was expecting some story about how his family is old Italian royalty going all the way back to the renaissance period, but this story somehow suits him more. “Pretty much,” he says as the car comes to a stop.

We arrive on the day of the wedding, and some guests are already here. As soon as we get out, we’re are greeted by two valets, one who asks to take our bags but is blocked by Rob, and another who offers us flutes of champagne. The valet leads us to the back of the villa, where the wedding is to take place. It looks almost like a fairytale.

“I wish I could have been there for the engagement party,” I blurt out.

“There wasn’t one.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not exactly what I would call a love match. Both the bride and the groom want to be over with it as soon as possible.”

I frown. Just as I’m about to ask why, Nico and Rico approach us. They look dapper and almost indistinguishable in their wedding clothes. They don’t look as festive as I thought they would be. Like Dante, there’s a cloud of uncertainty about them. Do none of them not want the wedding?

After the brothers greet each other, Dante takes them to the side and says something to them. I can’t hear what it is. They’re too far away for me to eavesdrop in, but occasionally, each brother glances at me. Whatever they’re talking about, I’m a topic of the conversation. He leaves them walking away while the twins make their way to me. “Where is he going?” I ask them as we take our seats, just as everyone is taking theirs. “To the groom,” Nico replies, his gaze squarely on me. Both keep glaring at me in a way that makes me feel like I’m under a microscope. Being sandwiched between the two of them also doesn’t help matters.

---