Page 52 of The Mafia's Captive

“Let’s hope so.”

Vannucci’s gaze lands on me, as if noticing me for the first time. “And who’s the lovely young lady with you?”

“Corina, meet my new business partner, Pietro Vannucci, head of the Vannucci family.”

“Vannucci meet Corina.”

Vannucci takes my hand and kisses it. “Out of all the flowers present here today, you, my darling, are the most beautiful.”

I can’t help smiling. “Thank you.”

He lets go of my hand and turns his attention to Dante. As they converse in mostly Italian, I notice his gaze keeps wandering to me. After a while he says, “Sorry, it’s just you remind me of someone. Could it be…” he trails off as if catching himself.

“Who do I remind you of?” I say.

Vannucci glances at Dante, and then says, “I must be mistaken, never mind.” Vannucci’s phone rings. He looks at it, turns it off, and says, “Dante, it’s been nice meeting you. You too Corina.” He draws Dante away and whispers something in his ear. Dante nods as if in agreement. Vannucci pats his back, takes another look at me, and leaves.

“What was that all about?” I say to Dante as he’s getting back into his seat.

“Nothing.” His tone indicates, ‘don’t ask anymore questions.’ And here I was thinking he’s now being more open. Whatever they were talking about, I can tell that I was at least one percent of the conversation. A little pissed off with him in general, I decide to get up and walk around. “Where are you going?” He asks when he sees me standing up.

“The powder room.”

“I’ll come with you.” He says, about to stand.

“To the powder room?”

“Right.” He gets back into his seat.

I don’t go to the villa. Instead, I take a stroll around the garden, admiring the beautifully manicured landscape. I spot an old-looking fountain of two angels with their hands in the air and I make my way there. The angels look like they're holding the water as it shoots out of their hands. It’s a mesmerizing piece, and I get lost in watching the flow of the water when I hear, “It was made during the Renaissance around the fifteen hundreds, but I can’t remember.” I turn around to see Nico standing in a casual pose with him in his pocket.

“It’s beautiful. Dante told me your father bought this house in the eighties.”

“You mean killed the owner and made it his own? If so, yeah, he bought it.”

I chuckle. “I was trying to sanitize it.”

“You don’t have to. I know it’s a spoil of war.” He looks up at the villa. “I like this place. You never know what you might find. I’m the only one who bothered to tally the priceless art that’s around here.”

“Priceless art?”

“There’s like a few Bellinis, and a Raphael confiscated from the Vatican in that house.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know. Do you want to see? I can give you a tour.”

“Maybe next time. I think I should get back to Dante.” I don’t want him to think I’m flagrantly disobeying him, like he thinks I usually do.

Nico grins. “Did he say something? He seemed pretty pissed when you two left.”

“A little.”

He chuckles and offers me his hand. “We shouldn’t give him even more ammo then. He might break my neck.” I take it and we stroll back to the direction of the reception, walking slowly with little conversation passing between us. We pass by two women who see us and jump into the other path as if we’re a couple of snakes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to such an awkward wedding.”

“Things are about to get even more awkward considering we’ll be fighting your father.”

“What?”

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