Page 53 of The Mafia's Captive

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him flushed, but his face is red right now. “Nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure you said your father.”

He looks away from me, picking up pace. I keep up with him. “You misheard me.”

“No, I didn’t. What do you mean by that?”

“Uh,” he looks around, as if searching for an exit. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

I scan the area for Dante. If Nico will not give me an answer, Dante will. He’s still at the table. Food is getting served. The father of the bride is about to give a speech. I increase my pace, making a beeline towards Dante. Nico is behind me, swearing and calling me to come back. Dante sees us and before I even ask, he looks like he knows what I’m going to say. “What does Nico mean when he says you’re fighting my father?”

17

When Vannucci referred to her heritage and she didn’t catch on, I thought the fear of her finding out had passed. I thought it was over until I see her marching over to me, with Nico a few steps behind her. I don’t wait for her to say more. Without thinking, I take her hand and lead her to the villa. The vast dining room we’re in doesn’t feel private, but I make sure it is by closing the doors. When I turn back at her, she has her arms crossed, still angry and confused. She looks like she wants to harm something, probably me. I would want to kill me too if I were her. If only Nico hadn’t run his mouth. If only I didn’t leave her alone with them.

“Well?” she says. “Are you going to explain yourself?”

Explain. What should I tell her? I could deny it. Tell her Nico is talking out of his ass and knows nothing. I doubt she would fall for it, especially considering my initial reaction to the possibility of her finding out was to make sure we talked about it in private. Nor would she fall for a lie that it has nothing to do with her. That there’s another daughter, and it’s not her. Anyway, that wouldn’t explain why I kept her close to me. Why she’s my ace card.

“What did Nico tell you?”

“Some bullshit that I’m Saccone’s daughter, except,” her eyes narrow, “It can’t be bullshit right, because that would explain everything. The tests you had me take specifically by your own doctor, the,” she waved the wrist with the tracker bracelet in the air, “monitoring, hell, the reason you’re interested in me in the first place. The reason I’m here. But it must be bull, right?”

The desperation in her eyes makes me want to like her. But I can’t. “I wanted to tell you soon. After the wedding.”

She vigorously shakes her head. “It can’t be true. We’re not related. There must be some mistake.”

“There isn’t. I had the samples tested with three different labs. They came to the same conclusion. You’re Saccone’s daughter.”

“Liar.” Even as she says it, it’s obvious she doesn’t believe her words. “Why?” she asks next.

“A few years ago, Saccone killed my sister. I was in college back then and I couldn’t do anything about it. It was a senseless killing. She was using my father’s car when she was gunned down at a traffic stop. My father was the intended target. Obviously, this knowledge killed him. Slowly, but living with the thought of being responsible for his daughter’s death was too much for him to live with. He died of a stroke a few years later. I couldn’t do anything about that either. I hated Saccone and everything that he represents. I still do. And ever since then, I’ve vowed revenge against him.”

“And where do I fit in?” She sounds cold, deliberately so. And even though I’m not looking for sympathy points, her lack of acknowledgment for revealing a part of me I’ve never let anyone see before is a blow on its own. I push through it. “You’re his daughter.”

“So I die to avenge your sister?” Her flat tone is unsettling. It’s as if she’s closed off herself from me. “Is that the plan? Kill me while he sees? Too bad, because Saccone doesn’t know me and doesn’t care. So it would be futile to do such a thing.” There’s never been a time when I wanted to kill her despite what she thinks and what I’ve led her to think. Finding out that she was Saccone’s progeny made me hate her, but that was then. The thought of seeing her dead now is unsettling to me.

“He’s looking for you.”

“So you’re keeping me as what? A bargaining chip?”

Maybe in the beginning, but not anymore. But how do I say that in a way she will believe me? It’s hard for me to explain even to myself. “I don’t know any more.”

“But I was initially a bargaining chip.”

“Truth is, I knew there was a daughter of his he was looking for and I thought I look for her at the same time. In that abstract construct, you were nothing more than a pawn, until I found out it was you.” She doesn’t believe me. She’s still stone cold. “So, what are you going to do to me?”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“I can breathe a sigh of relief, I guess.”

“Corina.” I take a step towards her. She flinches. I step back. She’s now practically hugging herself and I want to comfort her, but I don’t know how, when I’m the one plunging the metaphorical knife in her back.

“How am I supposed to react to just finding out that not only who my father is, but he’s your enemy you intend to kill?”

“I was planning on telling you.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?”

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