Emilia (Part 1)(11)

Bitterness bubbled up my throat at her reference to Sal. I hadn’t seen him since he toyed with me after my piano lesson, which was all right with me. I’d be perfectly content to avoid him for the rest of my life. It still irked me that he had to get in that last dig instead of allowing me to walk away with my dignity intact.

“Tony’s not so bad,” I answered, not wasting any brainpower on Sal. As far as I knew, no one except Lettie witnessed our kiss during my birthday party, and I wanted to keep it that way. Eventually, the whole debacle would be relegated to the dustbin of irrelevant events.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know Tony that well. He works with your uncle most of the time, not Pietro.” She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes glued to me. “So what’s the deal with you and Sal? You haven’t mentioned him since your birthday, and I gotta admit I’m kind of surprised. You looked all excited when you came inside after sucking face with him.”

Cringing, I glanced over my shoulder making sure Tony wasn’t listening to our conversation. I didn’t want word to get back to my dad. He’d have ten people following me around if he got a whiff of anything remotely improper happening between Sal and me. Even worse, he’d punish Sal, and although I considered him a giant asshole, I didn’t want to sic my dad on him. Luckily, Tony was absorbed in a phone conversation.

“I already told you, the thing with Sal wasn’t a big deal. He kissed me. We haven’t talked much since, and I don’t expect anything to happen between us. I want to make a break from the family, and he’s busy building a life as one of my dad’s minions. End of story.”

“I know, but you wouldn’t be the first girl to get sidetracked by a pretty face, and Sal has one helluva face.”

“Eh, he’s okay,” I lied, internally lamenting that God wasted such good looks on a conceited prick like Sal.

“Oh shut up.” She shoved me in the arm. “You can’t deny he’s one fine specimen even if you don’t like him. If I weren’t married to Pietro the Warden I’d be interested.”

“Don’t call your husband that. Tony might hear you. Then they’ll know you know.”

“I don’t care. The guys call him that, why can’t I? After all, it’s true. He kept that man chained up in our basement and—”

I slapped my hand over her mouth. “Stop talking about that. You know nothing good will come of bringing that up. You’ll be considered an accessory because you didn’t do anything about it.”

She dragged my hand from her mouth. “I didn’t have a choice, obviously, and I wasn’t supposed to know about it. I never would’ve if I didn’t stumble onto that surveillance video.” She raised her eyebrows. “And don’t forget, you’re the one who suggested I snoop around the house, so I hold you partially responsible.”

“I was joking. I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” I leaned forward. “By the way, did you keep a copy of it?”

“Fuck no. I didn’t want anything like that in my possession. It’d be like signing my death warrant. Besides, those videos automatically delete every twenty-four hours.”

“Did you ever find out who he was?”

She trailed her finger along the rim of the white coffee mug, her eyes downcast. “No. I didn’t even try. More than likely he was some shmuck who owed Pietro money. A nobody who gambled away his family’s future.”

“Probably. You can’t be right in the head if you go to Pietro or my dad looking for a loan.”

“That or you’re incredibly desperate.”

Uncomfortable with the turn of our conversation, a lump threatened to clog up my throat. I agreed to meet Lettie to take my mind off all the bad shit in my life. Yet, somehow my dad’s extracurricular activities always managed to irrevocably shape every facet of my life. Permanently severing ties to the Trassatos was the only way to get out from under his shadow.

“How’s Alessandro?”

Lettie leaned back in her chair as if she were contemplating solutions to solving world hunger. Alessandro was Pietro’s son. I didn’t know much about his mother. Nobody talked about her, which was understandable. Apparently, she turned up pregnant when they were both eighteen. She didn’t want anything to do with Pietro’s world or raising a kid, so she left Alessandro with Pietro and took off.

“He’s in college. NYU or something, so I hardly see him, which is fine with me.” Her lips puckered. “He’s a spoiled prick who thinks he’s too good for everyone, and Pietro feeds into the whole delusion by pretending the world revolves around his prodigal son.”