It works, because when does it not? I don’t need to work very hard to make Gemma angry. My mere presence seems enough to do it.
She shakes her head. “What’s with the name?”
“Hmm?”
“Ras. Why is that what people call you when your name is Cassio?”
It’s a question I’m not expecting.
My blood chills. Memories press in from the darkened corners where I keep them.
You’re an idiot, Cassio. Nunzio will kill you for what you did.
I smooth my palm over my tie. “Never mind.”
She doesn’t drop it. “What does it mean?”
Why did Ma have to mention it?
Ras is a term in the Camorra system for someone who answers to a higher boss.
You’re not Cassio anymore. You’re ras. My ras. And you’re going to do whatever I tell you to from now on.
I can still see Nunzio’s face as he said those words. He was so angry, so determined to make me pay.
His family wasn’t like my own. They lived in the neighborhood, and his father worked as a low-level manager in one of Pa’s factories.
Honest people doing honest work.
They used their savings to buy Nunzio a motorcycle as a gift for his sixteenth birthday, and when he showed up one day at school riding it, everyone was awed.
And me?
My first thought was to steal it. Just as a joke. Just to prove I could.
What I didn’t realize was that it wouldn’t be funny to Nunzio.
He’d been twice my size and freakishly strong for a sixteen-year-old.
When he found out I was the one who took the motorcycle and crashed it, he told my friends I’d pay for what I did thrice over.
Pff.
I made an enemy for life.
He made it his mission to show me just how fucking weak and worthless I was. He knew that I was too proud to run to my family for help. I thought it would end when we graduated, but he never seemed to get his fill when it came to breaking me.
At least not until he managed to steal the woman I loved.
“It’s an old nickname,” I say, standing. I don’t want to fucking talk about this.
Gemma’s gaze trails up my body, confusion in her eyes.
I reach for my glass and polish off my wine. I don’t like it. It’s too sweet. I’ll get a bottle of my favorite red from Damiano’s cellar.
It’s a stupid excuse to leave, but fuck it.
I head toward the house, acutely aware of Gemma’s gaze on my back.
CHAPTER 6
RAS
A long breath escapes me as soon as I shut the side door of the house behind me.
If there’s a part of my life I prefer to never think about, it’s my high school years. I’m thirty years old. I should be over all of it by now, but the memories still bother me.
When I get to the wine cellar, I take off my jacket. Never liked the damn things. Whenever I’m suited up like this, I feel constricted, but what can you do? The occasion calls for it.
I spend at least ten minutes reading the labels, not registering a single word. It’s cool here, the temperature optimized for preserving the wine. Eventually, I settle on a random bottle and make my way back up to the kitchen.
Voices reach me as soon as I step through the door.
“Look, all I’m trying to tell you is that you have a choice.”
“Vale, enough.” Gemma’s voice is strained.
I place the bottle on the counter, careful not to make a sound, and try to figure out where they are. Probably just down the hall.
“You’re only making it worse by constantly bringing it up. I’m marrying Rafaele. It’s settled, and I’m fine with it.”
“But you don’t even know him.”
“So what? This is what I’ve expected my whole life.”
“That doesn’t make it right or normal.”
“We aren’t normal. We sacrificed normal to be powerful.”
“We didn’t do anything. Our father did.”
“You say that like you’re making some kind of a point. We’re a family. A fucked-up, messed-up family, but a family nonetheless. Papà’s made it clear that my marriage is important for our family’s survival.”
That’s interesting.
I thought the marriage was a cherry on top of Garzolo’s love affair with Rafaele, nothing more. They’re already in business together.
Unless Garzolo’s been lying. If things in New York aren’t nearly as stable as he made them seem, then this alliance might be more about survival than expansion.
Valentina huffs. “I don’t understand. I thought that after you found out what they did to me by marrying me to Lazaro, you’d stop being so blindly loyal.”
“What they did to you was a horrible mistake. They both acknowledge it now. You know that, right?”
“Father only acknowledges it because Damiano forced him to. His apology to me was said through gritted teeth.”
“He’s proud, but deep down, he knows what he did was wrong. And Mamma cries in her bedroom at night. One time, I went to her, and she told me she’ll never forgive herself for putting you in that situation.”
“I don’t believe her. She suspected what was happening, at least in broad strokes. She knew Lazaro wasn’t right in the head. When I tried to give her the details, she wouldn’t listen.”
“You know she’s never gone against Papà. She didn’t know how to change anything.”
“God, Gem! I’m not ever going to forgive them, all right? I feel sorry for Mamma, I do, but not enough for me to excuse her for her role in all of this.”
“Fine. I won’t try to change your mind. Now do me the same courtesy about my upcoming marriage.”
Valentina sighs. “There was a time when you wouldn’t have been okay with marrying a Messero.”
“Maybe I’ve grown up since then. I was there when Tito died. You weren’t. They brought our cousin to our house while he was bleeding out, and I held his hand as he took his last few breaths. I’ve seen what perceived weakness can do to our family, how it makes our enemies foam at the mouth. My marriage to Rafaele will ensure things like that won’t happen again. So just stop it, okay? I’m fine with my decision. I don’t need you to try to make me feel bad about it.”
I frown. So Gemma thinks she’s saving the family. From what? Did Garzolo make up some imaginary threat to pressure her into this marriage? Or is he in actual trouble?
Either way, Garzolo’s lying to one of us.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Vale says.
“It’s what it feels like. Now can we please get back to dinner? Your husband will worry about you.”
“Will yours?”
There’s a long silence and then the sound of footsteps. I press my back against the fridge and wait for them to pass, but a moment later, Gemma enters the dark kitchen.
She stops by the island and presses her palms against the counter as if to steady herself. Her shoulders and head slump.
A door opens somewhere in the distance. Must be Vale going back outside.
It’s just the two of us now.
Given we’re working with Garzolo, I can’t just ignore this. If he’s been lying about everything being stable in New York and Gemma knows something, I’ve got to get it out of her.