I nod, switch lanes, and accelerate. It’s a cold fall day, so I don’t roll the windows down. Leaves have begun to fall, heralding the approach of another cold New England winter. Still, I’d rather be here freezing my ass off than in warmer Tuscany.
“Saw some footage I think you’d better explain,” he says.
I give Mario a sidelong glance. I’m not usually one to take a threat idly.
“I’d better?” I ask, even as I know it’s probably better to take it from here myself, not rock the boat.
“Yeah, Santo. I ain’t blackmailin’ you, you know that. I’m not that fuckin’ low.”
“I know you aren’t, but I also want you to come out and fuckin’ say what you have to.”
“I saw footage of you and Rosa.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. “What kind of footage?”
He blows out a breath. “You need me to get into detail, man?”
“I really do.”
Nodding, he taps his fingers on his knees. “We installed another camera down by The Castle wall. I didn’t see anything incriminating, Santo, but you and I both know she’s betrothed to a fucking Campanelle.”
I turn away and don’t respond.
Fuck.
“And we further know that if what I saw on camera was right, you didn’t touch her the way a goddamn brother does.”
I don’t reply. He isn’t saying exactly what he saw, but I go over what we’ve done by The Castle wall. There were enough times I touched her, or said something in her ear, that it isn’t worth getting fucked in my head over what he says.
There is no footage of her bedroom. No one knows I’ve gone way, way beyond anything that’s been recorded.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask him. My voice is a little hoarse. If Mario tells the others…
“Because you covered my ass so many fuckin’ times, bro,” he says. “And I know if you have any feelings for my sister, she’ll never be safer.” He blows out a breath. “And I also know that if Romeo, Tavi, or Orlando found out, your ass is fucked.”
I don’t respond at first, but when he doesn’t continue, I urge him. “Go on.”
“You got anything to say?”
I think about it.
“Rosa is promised to a Campanelle,” I tell him. “I know this.”
“Yeah, brother. But if you touch her, Santo— I mean, I know you guys have always been close, but if you cross that line…”
Already fucking crossed that line.
Over, and over, and over again.
I sigh. “I know.”
“It ain’t worth it, bro,” he says softly. “I scrubbed those files so no one will ever see what you did. But you can’t fuck this up. Romeo would kill you. I know he would. You remember…”
“I remember.”
I know I can’t fuck it up. I took a vow none of them even know about that prohibits me from touching her. I blow out a breath and nod.
“Break whatever the fuck it is off, Santo. You have to. I won’t tell anyone. But if you don’t…”
His voice trails off. He doesn’t need to finish it.
“I hear you.” I want him to know I’m listening, that I won’t fuck this up. “Mario, The Family’s everything to me,” I say, even as my heart breaks at the thought of turning away from Rosa. “You know I’m loyal to the fucking core.”
“I know that now, but there was a time I wondered, Santo,” he says. It’s rare Mario sobers, but when he does, we pay attention.
“I know. I won’t hurt her, Mario, and I know she’s promised to someone else.”
It’s rare Mario looks threatening. But it’s a look on his face now. I know this is the concern not only of a made man of the Rossi family, but Rosa’s brother. Mario is one of the gentler sort, he hates conflict, even though he is the best man to have at your back in a fight. So the stern look on his face gives me pause, and his assumption that Romeo would end my life confirms my own suspicions and fears.
“I would never hurt her, Mario.”
“But you being with Rosa would hurt the family,” Mario says, pointing out something that I feared from the very beginning. “Which is why I will not do anything with her. Which is why I will see Rosa married to someone else and not protest.”
Mario gives one curt odd. “After we end this, our conversation never happened.”
I’ve been given one extra life, like a cat’s nine lives. I’m probably on my goddamn eighth.
“Then all I’m telling you is, be careful.”
I nod soberly. I will be. I have to.
We pull up the long drive that takes us to our rivals’ home.
“Jesus,” Mario mutters under his breath. “Shit like this gives Italians a bad name.”
Thick columns line the driveway topped with lions’ paws carved in stone. Gold accents glitter at the lions’ manes, and I wonder if it’s real gold. Some people, like Romeo and the rest, are wealthy without flaunting it, although The Castle is barely a subtle home. Still, they like to travel, they like good possessions, they invest in their future and the future of their family.