“No, Don Barone.” Jessica talks for them both. “Tried to but we told him where to go.”
“Good. Witness the wedding for me and then take the rest of the afternoon off. Get Sergio to take you to the mainland. Go have a meal on me. Go to the Trattoria. Have the lasagne. I hear it’s excellent this week.”
Imogen frowns. I know what that look means. How would I know? I’ve not left the island for years.
“Sergio went at the weekend, told me it was good.”
She smiles. “Thank you, Don Barone.”
I head out of the kitchen. I’ve had enough of this chaos in my life. It’s time to get back to my nice organized existence. I’m in charge. I will not be weak. I will not let people touch up my employees. One mistake from Freddy and he’ll find out just how different I am from my father.
No second chances. No excuses. He gets this right or he’s fucked.
If there was any other way of conducting the wedding, I’d have picked it. But it had to be with the famiglia priest to count toward the conditions of the will.
I call out for Anna to come downstairs but I get no answer. She better not have tried to escape again. I’ll bypass the crop and go straight to the belt if that’s the case.
I shout again but there’s no answer. On the third attempt, I hear a grunting sound coming from near the front door. The reception lounge is unlocked and as I enter it, I find her draped across the nearest couch. She looks like she’s been napping, sitting up as I approach her.
“What happened?” she asks, getting to her feet and then staggering slightly. “Did I fall asleep?”
“You’ve still not recovered,” I tell her, taking her arm and holding her upright. “You need to take it easy.”
No weakness. Be strong. No empathy.
She is a way to achieve justice for everything Don Caruso did.
He stole.
He drove drunk.
He had my cousin tortured and killed in front of me.
Ruining his daughter is the least I can do to get my revenge.
She’s too innocent, a voice in my head calls to me as I support her from falling. Look at her, barely conscious. You can’t do this. Let her go. Let her leave.
I think of Giuseppe screaming.
Never be weak. Be strong. Don’t think of her. Who gives a shit about her? Think about what’s right. Think about justice.
“Come on,” I tell her, leading her out of the lounge. “This way.”
“Where are we going?”
“To get married.”
“What? Now? In this?”
“No need for a wedding dress or any of that shit. It’ll be over with in minutes.”
“How romantic.” The sarcasm drips from her words.
“It’s an administrative procedure, that’s all.”
“Like I said, it’s the romance I love about all this.”
I stop and look at her.