Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3)(79)

‘They’re good boys,’ Elena said quietly. It was the first thing she’d said all evening. ‘They’re like their father.’

I realized she wasn’t talking to me.

Dinner wasn’t exactly a joyful affair, but Elena and Paulie still managed to make an incredible spread for everyone. ‘The Feast of the Seven Fishes,’ Gino told me, ‘is going to be unlike any eating experience you’ve had up until now.’

He was right.

It was my first Italian Christmas Eve, and despite the thundering fear of all that still lay ahead, I found my appetite was in surprisingly good shape, probably owing to the mouthwatering selection of food neatly arranged across the dining room table. There was salted cod and clams casino, deep-fried calamari, lobster salad, marinated eel, salmon rillettes with breadsticks for dipping, and my favourite dish – grilled shrimp with chilli, coriander and lime. There were salads and baked bread, a seafood stew, and bowls of freshly made tagliatelle in a creamy mushroom sauce. For dessert, Gino made rainbow cookies with gelato, and Elena made cannoli – pastry shells stuffed with sweetened ricotta cheese that melted in your mouth.

There was so much decadence and care in every dish that I found myself wishing that, just once, my father had embraced his roots so we could have experienced something like that when I was growing up.

We sat down to eat at nine p.m. Luca raised his glass – water – and we all followed suit, a mismatch of whiskies and red wine and vodka soaring towards the ceiling.

‘Salute,’ was all he said. He had been quiet all day, hidden in his office, going over plans and layouts.

‘Salute,’ we replied as one.

‘The Last Supper,’ said Gino. He smiled at his mother – it was the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. Elena shut her eyes tight, and when she opened them again they were clear.

No one answered him.

We picked up our forks and started eating.

After dinner, I stayed behind with Dom and Gino to clear up. Luca had arranged for a priest to come out to the house to celebrate midnight Mass – a Christmas tradition the Falcone family refused to miss, even if we weren’t able to risk going to a church to experience it. After Mass, there was confession for those who wanted it. Every single Falcone availed themselves of it. The significance wasn’t lost on me.

I was washing a pot in the sink when Luca appeared behind me, his hand light against my lower back. I jumped, and it fell from my hands. He grabbed it by the rim before it could clatter into the sink.

‘Sorry,’ he murmured, just above my ear.

It took everything in my power not to lean back into him and close my eyes. We hadn’t been this close since Valentino passed away.

I turned to look up at him. ‘Is everything OK?’

He moved his hand to the edge of the sink, his body so close we were almost touching. My breath caught in my throat. Dom and Gino were being suspiciously quiet somewhere behind me. Luca dropped his voice. ‘Meet me on the roof after Mass?’ he asked. ‘I have something for you.’

I offered him a half-smile. ‘I’ll only come if it’s a present.’

‘It is. It’s a unicorn.’

Then he turned and strode out of the kitchen without looking at Gino or Dom.

‘So, that’s still going on,’ said Dom.

I was going to glare at him, but his tone was neutral and when I saw his face, I realized he wasn’t teasing me.

He slotted the final plate into the dishwasher and straightened up. ‘You know he’s going to get himself killed tomorrow, don’t you?’

I disregarded the pot I was halfway through cleaning. ‘What?’

Gino had stopped wiping down the table. He turned to look at Dom.

‘Luca isn’t planning on making it out of the Marino mansion alive.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I could feel the anger flashing in my cheeks. ‘Of course he’ll make it out alive. We all will.’

Dom just shrugged. ‘It’s his final stand.’

‘Why would you say that?’ I tried to keep the panic at bay, but this didn’t feel like one of Dom’s stupid jokes.

‘Look at him,’ said Dom, his hand flying out to where Luca had just been standing. ‘He’s resigned. His thirst for retribution is going to outweigh his self-preservation. Valentino and Luca weren’t made to be apart. They can’t live without each other.’

‘Why are you talking like this?’ Gino sounded like a small child. ‘You make it seem like suicide.’

‘He’s just different,’ Dom said. ‘He doesn’t care any more.’

‘He cares about getting rid of the Marinos,’ Gino argued.

‘And what else?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Gino.

‘Exactly,’ Dom sighed. ‘Exactly.’

I picked up my pan, scouring it until my fingers were red raw and the sting in Dom’s words had passed.



When everyone had retired to bed, post-confession, with clean souls, I climbed through Luca’s bedroom window. I crept across the roof, leaving my footprints and handprints in the thin layer of snow like the tracks of a giant toddler.

Luca was sitting at the edge, in the same place he had been on the night of the meteor shower. He turned to watch me crawl towards him.