I study him, confused momentarily. “Are you talking about our shares?” I hadn’t thought about this or even cared about it. I still don’t. I know I come into my share of the company on my twenty-first birthday. I guess Emma has something similar in place when she is of age. Our father would have held the majority of the shares, but now that he’s gone, I’m not sure how that’s divided. It hadn’t occurred to me what would happen to my dad’s holdings when he passed. His passing wasn’t something I ever thought about.
My conversation with Amadeo from days ago plays in my mind.
“How safe do you think either of you were or would be in your brother’s house now that Daddy is in the ground? Have you ever wondered about his sudden death, by the way? He was a healthy, fit man, as I understood it at least.”
My father had a heart attack. In some way, I understand Amadeo’s doubt, though. And perhaps it’s seeped into my own mind over the days. Another small, subtle victory for Amadeo. He has sown the doubt he intended to sow. I never thought about my father dying because he was so vital. So alive. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
“I didn’t think this was about money. You told me you don’t need our money,” I say.
“Oh, I don’t. It’s not about that at all. It’s about bringing your brother to his knees before I put a bullet between his eyes.”
I flinch at the violence of his words. At their casual delivery.
“Your father’s will is to be read in a few days. I suppose we’ll all know more then.”
“How do you know about my father’s will?”
“I have made it my business to know everything I can about anything having to do with the Russo family. Are you ready?”
“You won’t hurt Emma if I do this.”
“I won’t hurt a child.”
“Or me. You won’t hurt me.”
“I would have no reason to. Come.” He turns me toward the altar, but I pull back.
“Let us go,” I say. He faces me. Watches me. I’m begging after I swore I wouldn’t. It’s beneath me, but I am desperate. “After. After you get what it is you want. Let us go.”
A long silence settles between us, the air heavy and so very still.
“Come, Vittoria.”
I pull on his arm, remembering the way he’d looked at me when he’d kissed me. Remembering the kiss. It has to have meant something. “Please, Amadeo. I will do what you say, and I will only ask for this one thing.”
He studies me, his face unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes. That intensity of earlier. A flicker of it. And it gives me hope. Because without that flicker, I would be sure there is no human soul beneath the surface. There is only beast.
A door opens loudly, breaking into the moment. Disrupting it wholly. I glance over Amadeo’s shoulder to see Father Paolo being escorted out into the church, looking disheveled. Like he dressed in a hurry.
Amadeo follows my gaze, then turns back to take my hand in his, his fingers closing around mine, swallowing mine up. And when I meet his eyes again, the moment is gone. My heart falls when he turns me toward the altar, and we take the final steps toward our doomed destiny.