Inferno(71)

He had all the formal politeness of his brother but none of the slimy passive aggression. I studied his hand perched lightly on the doorframe. His fingernails were painted bright pink and yellow.

‘I guess it must be,’ I said, trying not to sound childish or vulnerable, both things I felt overwhelmingly in that moment. ‘I was wondering if I could speak to Luca?’

I could see confusion breaking through, the wheels in his head desperately turning, trying to figure this all out. ‘Would you like to come inside while I get him for you?’

‘Yes, please.’

His loafers fell soundlessly on the marble as he disappeared down a hallway. The grandness of the house crept up on me, the echoing sounds of my breath seeming louder than usual. I studied the Falcone crest etched into the floor and the three-tiered crystal chandelier that hung overhead and cast rainbows along the double staircase. High on the wall in the far corner of the foyer, there was a picture.

In the photograph, Felice was wearing a suit, and beside him was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Her wavy chestnut hair was gathered high on her head in ruby-encrusted pins. She had wide blue eyes and creamy skin that belonged in a CoverGirl commercial. Clad in a lace wedding dress and clutching Felice’s arm, she was beaming at the camera. It seemed very much like love, I had to admit, and somehow, the softness of her beauty seemed to soften him too. He didn’t seem scary or evil, just young.

Evelina. Even in the photograph, the glint of her ruby ring caught my eye. It was just like the one in the Falcone mausoleum. Huge. Expensive. Red – the colour of love. The colour of violence. What had he done to drive her away? The letters F and E were carved into the bottom of the frame, the word Sempre glowing silver beneath them.

Always, I remembered.

What a lie.

Luca emerged from the hallway and stopped by the bottom of the staircase, keeping yards of distance between us. ‘I must be irresistible. You can’t stay away from me for more than twenty-four hours.’

I whirled from the photograph of Felice and his bride and took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I don’t really know how to even go about saying this …’ I conceded.

He leant across the banister, his chin resting on his folded arms. ‘Try putting one word in front of the other.’

His tone was teasing but I could feel him studying me. I drowned the urge to flip him my middle finger, and instead made the choice that meant there was no going back. I said the words that would make me a Marino enemy and push my life even closer to the knife-edge.

‘Donata Marino wants me to help her kill your family.’

Silence enveloped us. Luca’s expression didn’t falter. He just stared at me, his eyes barely flickering in recognition.

I decided it would be best to add something, just in case there was any lingering confusion. ‘I’m not going to. Obviously.’

He pulled back from the banister and stood straight, seeming so much taller then. He stopped when he was just a foot from me. He scanned me, briefly, but not quickly enough that it wasn’t noticeable. Was he checking for a weapon?

‘What did she offer you?’ he asked evenly.

I shrugged. ‘Safety, mostly … from your family.’

‘From us?’ he said. ‘But we have no interest in you.’

Something about that stung me. I shook it off; he was right. That was the whole point: the Falcones didn’t care about me any more.

‘I don’t know what she’s thinking, Luca,’ I admitted. ‘She’s going to hurt me and my mom if I don’t help her. We have nowhere to go. We have no money to get away from them.’ I cleared my throat to stamp out the quiver in my voice and then I thought, What’s the point? Luca knew the truth. I was sick of trying to hide it. ‘And I’m scared, Luca. I am really scared.’

‘When?’ he asked, his voice level. ‘When does she intend to move against us?’

It hit me then. This was Luca in commander mode. This was Luca putting his duty before his emotions. He was keeping cool because he was trained to. I had no idea what he was really thinking or feeling. I tried to put myself in that mode too, but my heart felt like there was an iron fist around it, and I couldn’t help thinking of my mother packing up all her stuff at home, waiting for me to come back to her with a plan, with money, with a way out.

‘Soon,’ I told him. ‘She said she’d come back for me first. They’re going to ambush your family at the diner. She wants me to help her.’ I hesitated, embarrassed by the implication, by the absurdity of having to say the next part to his face. ‘She thinks I’m a … Falcone weakness.’