“You didn’t tell Manara about the fire alarm either.” It dawns on her as a sly smile breaks out on her face.
“That might have slipped my mind,” I confess, and we both have a good chuckle.
Riccardo races around collecting our weapons and takes the service elevator down to the street to dispose of incriminating evidence.
“So, who takes over for Conti now? That’s how it works, right?”
“Yes, probably his underboss or a son. God, I hope he’s someone who has a better moral compass,” I groan.
It’s like any work situation where your co-workers don’t play nice in the sandbox, only in my world, it can be deadly.
28
Epilogue
When I started college, I didn’t know who I was. I felt like an oddball and a bit of a nerd even though I attended a prestigious art college. I would have never guessed in my wildest dreams that I came from a notorious crime family that was shrouded in death and suffering at the hands of my father.
And if you told me I would fall in love with my kidnapper, and that he’d save me from my ruthless father, who would rather have me dead than make a business deal with his rival, well, I wouldn’t have believed you.
But here we are, at my parents’ house in Greve, the sleepy little town that harvests olives and grapes. It’s the beginning of grape-picking season and the streets are busier than usual. There will be some small events going on for the locals to celebrate, and many will drink too much wine.
Dante is sitting in less formal attire, but he’s still smoking hot, so much so I have a mind to take him to the cellar and let him fuck me against the wall like he did in his kitchen. God knows I want to, but when I scream, “Fuck me harder,” I’m sure my parents would hear, and there’s no coming back from that.
His face is tanned from our short getaway to Capri to erase some of the bad memories. I still have nightmares some nights, either about the life I took, even though he was an intruder who would have killed me, or about being held by Conti on the night he was killed, afraid he’d slit my throat and throw me in the swimming pool.
Dante tells me this is all normal and will go away in time, some old adage about time healing all wounds. We never could trace my birth mother or her family anywhere, so if she got away from him alive, I hope she knows her sacrifices weren’t in vain and that I’m happy.
“So, what kind of music do you listen to?” Dad asks my fiancé as they wander off to another room to have some guy talk. To my parents, Dante is just a successful businessman, and if they suspect more, they are too polite to mention it.
Ava has joined us on the trip to Greve and is full of energy, getting me caught up on the last two weeks. She’s in love with my engagement ring and has declared Dante a catch. She’s supposed to fly back to New York when her class is over, but she’s toying with the idea of staying longer as she adores the Italian way of life. She still has the boy toy—he has a real name and I really should use it, but I just can’t get over the fact that he looks like he’s sixteen.
We have plenty of wine on the table, and Ava and I help Mama set the table and fold the linen napkins before bringing out the food. My parents’ wine is nowhere near the price point of Dante’s collection, but he’s not complaining, and I think he’s actually enjoying the company and conversation today.
As he whispered to me right before we arrived at the house, he’s never had to meet a lover’s mother before, let alone his new fiancée’s, so he was concerned that she might not be impressed by him.
I said, “Dante, you have a degree from a prestigious college, you run a multi-million-euro business, and you’re committed to giving back to the community. Don’t worry about it. All any mother wants is for her children to be happy.”
He thinks for a second. “You’re right.” With a new bounce in his step, he causally walked up to my mother, greeted her with a kiss on each cheek, and gave her the flowers we’d brought with a flourish. And that was it, she loved him right away.
I had to tell Ava to not spill the beans to my parents about the lie to the dean that I was with my sick grandmother, when in fact, I was with Dante. She swore she would lock that in the vault forever.
I hope Conti’s children never come to power. I’m happy if we never hear the name again. I couldn’t tell Ava the truth, I mean, I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me everything I’ve been though in the past two weeks and threw in an adoption cover-up on top of everything else. I’d call your bluff for sure.
So, our secrets are all safe, and we live to fight another day.
Something else that came out of this was that I realized I loved Dante so much, I wanted to work with him in some capacity. So, I went to work for a top-of-the-line interior design company in Florence and I’m learning how to refurbish Dante’s hotels and restaurants when they need it. I still draw on the side, and Dante is going to hang some of my work around the house when I finish it.
We’ve been working so much that it’s hard to find time for special extracurricular activities that occur outside of the bedroom, if you get my drift. But my man loves to color outside the box, and I’m more than okay with that. I like keeping things new and interesting.
My mother is buzzing around with wedding talk. It’s too hot to have a summer wedding these days, so we’re thinking in the fall or next spring. I don’t care one way or the other, but my mother is overjoyed and no doubt she’ll be wanting grandkids soon. But for now, Dante and I are content getting to know each other and learning how to live and work together while not smothering each other. I know, bad reference for a person in organized crime, but it is what it is.
We have the rest of our lives to figure each other out, have loud arguments, and even louder make-up sex. My future husband has my number there, and I have to admit, I’ve become a bit of a dirty girl. I love him and love making love to him—day, night, you name it. It will be one exciting ride being in this crazy family, and now that we know Conti is gone, we’re free to travel and explore anywhere we want without looking over our shoulders. That sure sounds like freedom to me!