“I, uh, I don’t know.”
Gemma snorted. “So, you’re marrying this guy and you don’t even know what he does?”
“Well, I know he’s in.” Adelina said defensively.
“Where’s he’s from?”
“New York.”
Gemma’s eyes widened. “Luchesse, Morello, DiLaurentis, Colombo, or DeCavalcante?” She listed off the names.
“What?”
Gemma threw her hands up exasperated. “His last name! What’s his last name, Addy?”
“I, uh, I don’t know.”
Gemma’s eyes widened. “You don’t know his last name?”
“Everything happened fast!” she shouted. “I just, I never asked and no one ever told me.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “Oh princess. You have so much to learn.”
“Clearly. So, who are these people?”
“The three families in New York. They, like, run the mafia.”
“Okay… so you think he’s in one of them?”
“Yes. All of them are more respected that Vinny and Massimo. At least that’s what I hear from Gian.” Gian was Gemma’s oldest brother, and a made man not to be messed with. As far as Adelina knew, Gian ran a crew in downtown Providence that brought in a ton of money. And any man that hurt Gemma seemed to disappear. She wasn’t naive enough to think they were still alive.
“Well, I guess the next time I see him I’ll ask.”
“Just like that?” Gemma laughed. “Hello future husband what’s your last name?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
Chapter Six
“There he is!” Annette Luchese cooed as Lucian ascended the grand steps to St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
The church was a breath of fresh air among the midtown high rises and glass buildings. The old architecture always gave Lucian a sense of comfort. Inside the church smelled of incense and wood. Golden pillars lined the aisle and rows of wooden pews sat the God-fearing patrons. Colorful light filtered across the church, cast from the beautiful stained-glass windows. Lucian would obsessively stare at the windows growing up, trying to make out the images built from squares and triangles of colored glass. He would imagine what was going on in them, picturing himself there with Mary or Joseph. He could have listened to the service to get the full story, but he liked his made-up versions better.
Annette placed a hand on either side of his face. Her warm brown eyes looked him over, insuring everything was intact in her motherly way.
“My boy, how are you?”
“I’m good, Ma.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to each cheek. “Really.”
She eyed him skeptically before finally letting him go from her embrace. “Okay, then.”
“Annette, dear, why don’t you and Enzo go get our spot, hmm?” Carlo asked her, and she obliged, taking her younger sons arm and heading into the massive church.
“How’d it go?” Carlo asked, leaning against the beige bricks.
“She’s thinking it over.”
Carlo nodded. “You gave her all the options?”