ife, to make you a mafia wife.”
“A mafia wife?” she sputtered out, her eyes goggling. “You were going to propose?”
I was, I realized. That had been the direction we were going. “I would love to marry you, baby, but only if we could keep that part of my life separate from yours.”
“How would that work? You go off to launder money or help people disappear or something else I don’t even want to know about, and then come striding through the front door saying, ‘Honey, I’m home.’ Is that what you think would happen?”
“I don’t know.” It sounded so ridiculous when she said it like that, but then I thought of some specific examples. “My parents made it work when they were alive. My dad ran the business while my mom focused on us and our home. She wasn’t directly involved.”
“So except for your mom, your whole family is like this? Everyone’s a criminal?”
Pretty much. “It’s… it’s how I was raised. I’m Angelo Varasso’s son. He was the patriarch of an Italian mafia family. Luca was always meant to take over from him, and I was always meant to be his second in command. My younger brothers have their places and duties, too. We were brought up into this life. It’s all we know.”
“Nobody ever breaks away from it? Nobody ever quits or decides to go straight?”
“There is no quitting. It’s our legacy. It’s what’s expected of us. But you and I could find our own way. We could make it work. Luca has. His wife runs the drug distribution part of our business.”
Her mouth dropped open. “She willingly joined you even knowing she’d be breaking a bunch of laws?”
“Her story’s kind of complicated, but yeah. She fell in love with Luca and got pregnant, but she was already leading up the line before that. Now they’re married with two kids. It’s working for them.”
“But you… You never even tried to quit just for yourself? To have a chance at being something else? Something better?”
“They’re my family. I can’t help that I was born a Varasso, Kelly.”
She’d started out with a full head of steam, but she seemed to be shifting into something more like agitation now. Still, she threw her hands up as she spoke. “It’s like I don’t know who you actually are. There’s the Marco who’s been with me in our suite, and there’s the man I just found out about, this scary man who’s a mobster.”
Her words sounded choked near the end, and I noticed tears glimmering in her eyes. Please, please, please don’t cry. “I mean, you’re standing there in handcuffs as we speak. Which one of those men is the real you?” she asked.
“Both of them,” I admitted, and she released a loud sob. Christ. We’d been keeping the conference table between us or rather she’d been keeping the table between her and me. I dashed around it, needing to be in physical contact with her, to hold and soothe her, even if my ability to do so would be limited. “But I’d rather just belong to you, baby. I’d rather just be yours.”
Tears still streaming, she put up her palm in a stop gesture, rejecting me. “It’s too late for that, though, isn’t it? You’re probably going to jail, Marco.”
“What if… What if I can figure out how to give that way of life up? To walk away from it?” I suggested, feeling desperate. I didn’t even know how possible such a thing might be, but for her I’d do it. I had to. Or die trying. “I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you.”
“It’s too late for that,” she said again, a hitch in her voice. “It’s too late for us.”
But I couldn’t hear those words from her, couldn’t accept them and maintain my sanity. “Don’t say that. I’ll make it happen somehow.”
“It’s not enough,” she said quietly, almost gently, as if speaking softly enough might make what she was saying less painful. It didn’t.
In counterpoint, my voice rose in response. “How can I make it enough? What can I do to fix this? I’ll do anything you want, I swear. I love you too much not to,” I told her, my breath hitching as much as hers had.
My throat constricted too much for me to be able to speak after that. If I’d thought I was desperate before, it was nothing to what I felt now. I knew if I didn’t turn this around, I’d lose her. And I couldn’t lose her. I’d survived shootings, physical beatings, and nearly being burned alive, but I couldn’t survive Kelly leaving me.
Without looking in my direction, she moved past me to the door, knocking on it so the officer would let her out. “I love you, too,” she said.
Then, she was gone.
23
Kelly
I went home. Home to the crime-free confines of the apartment I shared with my mom and dad. Home to my tiny bedroom where I would sleep tonight for the first time in two weeks.
Alone.
I’d never felt worse in my life than I did right now. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t make the tears quit falling, no matter what I did. I needed to check in on my mom, to see if my dad had taken care of their dinner or not, but I didn’t. I didn’t have the fortitude or energy to face my usual obligations.