So I focused on pieces.
I focused on cracks in the pavement.
The dust of a few scattered rocks the cement at my heel.
It was the same way I looked at Val. My efforts, so far, had been working, ignore her body and face as a whole, but hands? Yeah, I could stare at her hands, she had three scars on her pointer finger, I assumed it was from thorns in the roses she often arranged.
She had a dimple in her right cheek that, on first glance, looked like another scar, but really was just a really deep indent that made her appear even more innocent than she was.
Her hair was dark brown.
But, when she tilted her head at different angles, shots of gold shimmered.
She was short.
Not as short as Andi, but short enough that I knew my presence would be extremely intimidating to her.
Pieces.
I looked at pieces.
Never her smile, only her teeth.
Eyes were fine, as long as she didn’t lock gazes with me too long and, really, I was confident that even if she touched me for a prolonged period of time, I’d be okay.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t striking — she was Luca’s blood through and through, she had his hazel like ghost eyes, so light that they almost seemed white at times, and she had Joyce’s smile.
I’d bet it killed Frank.
And that’s when it killed me — this wasn’t just his niece, this was his wife’s daughter.
Damn me.
I’d been outside having a near nervous breakdown over the fact that I had to marry the girl — a mere eight weeks after my wife’s death, mind you — and Frank had just met his wife’s son and daughter.
His brother’s children.
The last thing he needed was my emotional baggage to go along with it. I kicked the wall one last time and was just about to turn the corner when I saw Frank and Val on the porch of the brownstone.
I held back.
They sat down in the cold, Frank on the top stair, Val, too, but as far away from him as possible, nearly underneath the railing, her arms wrapped around the post as if it was enough to protect her from a man like him.
“You’re upset,” Frank said in a bland tone.
I rolled my eyes. No shit she was upset, old man! She’d just been told that her family was mafia royalty, what normal, innocent girl wouldn’t be upset when you exchanged their iPhone for a gun and told them to make sure they always sit in booths when going out to eat?
Once you knew your own blood, it was impossible to go back.
The chilling knowledge of her heritage alone would make sure of that. She’d always watch her back from here on out, never stand in line at Starbucks, and, when she walked home at night, she would always think she was being followed.
Mafia breeds paranoia.
As well as insanity.
They go hand in hand, but they also keep you alive.
“I’m in shock,” she finally said, her eyes meeting his. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and ducked her head, staring down at her shoes. “My whole life is a lie.”
Dramatic, but true.
I frowned as she chewed on her lower lip, sucking it into her mouth only to release it.
A strange mixture of anger and lust jolted through me like lightning.
The wrongness of the emotion started a cold sweat as I continued to eavesdrop.
“We thought it best to protect you. Luca was a very dangerous man. He was also convinced you could never live a normal life if you lived under his roof. He knew something must be done. You were raised until the age of five in Italy. I’m sure you remember fragments.” He sighed, his breath swirled around his head. “There were two death threats against you and Dante… I’ll never forget the night my brother called me to say he needed to put you both in hiding. The only people I could think of…” He glanced back at the house. “Were also, at the time, not my biggest fans.”
“At the time?” She joked.
“Yeah well…” Frank chuckled. “Blood is blood. They had no choice, and they adopted you as if you were their own.” He angled his head and studied her. “You have been happy, no?”
After a few seconds, she nodded.
“And you’ve been well taken care of?”
Another curt nod.
“Believe me when I say, the last thing I want to do is ruin your future, but it was your father’s dying wish that you not only know him, but that you join the Family. By joining through marriage you are automatically—”
Val covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.
Frank frowned.
I stared harder. Had she just laughed? At Frank Alfero?
“I’m so sorry!” Val laughed harder. “I laugh when I’m nervous. I just… it’s kind of funny right? I read, Frank. That’s what I do.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“My excitement in life.” She smiled again to herself. “Was reading, mainly historical romance. Women had no power in Regency England. They couldn’t even own property. Did you know that once they were married both the church and crown only recognized them as property of whomever had wed them?”
Frank shook his head.
“Marriages were formed based on wealth, power, protection, prestige.” A wry smile curved her lips. “Are you telling me the same thing, Frank? Am I supposed to marry Sergio for all of those reasons? Or is there more?”
Frank shifted on the step.
I waited to see what he would say. Because there was so much more to that story — to the real reason we were here, to why it was imperative that they join the ranks.