Chapter 3 3

Veronica

The door to my study swings open without warning. I take off my headphones and eye my father, who charges in. He's usually the type to respect my privacy.

"Everything okay?" I ask even though I already know the answer. My father is a calm and level man. For him to be this rattled has to mean something really bad has happened.

He takes my hands in his and offers a tight smile. "Principessa, I will be gone for a short while. Your sister is in her room, and the cook will prepare dinner. I hope to be home late tonight, but business could hold me up until the morning, sì?"

I nod, his words not assuring me in the least. "Did something happen?"

"Business," he answers vaguely.

He prefers to keep both his daughters in the dark about anything related to the Familia. Knowing our world and the kind of "business" they get into, Sandy and I prefer it that way too.

"Okay." I give him what I hope is a sincere smile. "You'll be safe?"

"Always." He leans down to kiss my forehead, cupping my face gently.

I feel my stomach sink when he leaves the room. My father is a consigliere of the mafia, which means every time he leaves the house, there's no guarantee he'll come back. It's bad enough we lost my mother four years ago to a heart attack. Every second of my life is spent worrying over the only parent I have left.

I hear him bark orders at his soldiers downstairs. I head down the hall and peer over the stairs just as I catch a whole fleet of them following my father out the door. They're all heavily armed, and the air around them is tinged with panic.

I frown, knowing I have no place to get involved. This is men's work, chauvinistic as it is. Sandy and I are lucky enough that our father lets us study and make our own careers. Women in our world get married off as soon as they are of age. I went to school with so many girls who found themselves married and pregnant at eighteen by force. I'm twenty-four and unmarried, working as a nurse. It's unheard of for a woman my age to be single and without child and to have an actual stable career to support herself. But my father always afforded my sister and me the chance to make our own destiny and fought anyone who challenged him from doing so.

I go to her now, knocking on her door in warning before opening it. Her nose is buried in her textbooks so close she may as well be attached to them. She's in her last year of high school and super serious about her studies.

"Hey." I lean against her doorframe. She mumbles something incoherent back. "Studying?"

"Will be the death of me," she finishes my sentence with a groan. "What's all the commotion outside?"

"Not sure. Father said something about business."

"Ugh. Don't elaborate. I like pretending he's like any other lame dad and doesn't kill people for a lifestyle."

See? I smile gently when I notice her biting her lip nervously.

"He'll be okay," I assure her and take a seat on her bed next to her desk. She swings her chair to face me. "He took all of his soldiers."

"All of them? That sounds pretty serious."

I shrug. "Isn't it always?"

"I guess."

Sensing that she's still worried, I lean forward and close her textbook. She starts to protest until I cut her off with a firm look. Being seven years older than her, I've always had a tendency to mother my little sister to death. It comes with the territory.

"You need a break from studying. At this rate you'll be reciting the periodic table in your sleep."

"That would help me ace my test."

I roll my eyes. "Come on. Let's help Carlotta with dinner."

Though we grew up generally wealthy and privileged, we were raised to never take anything for granted. We had cooks and maids, but we've always done our own chores nonetheless. It was my mother who made sure of that despite my father's protests that there wasn't any need. He was accustomed to that life, having grown up in it. Mother was an outsider and came from a middle-class family. She made sure Father didn't spoil us to death.

"Veronica. Sandra." Carlotta smiles warmly at us when we enter the kitchen. She refused to shorten our names, saying they were too beautiful to be cut off. "You are here to help?"

"What can we do?" I ask, already rolling up my sleeves.

"The vegetables-cut and sauté them, sì? Sandra, you will start on the rice."

We get to work and immediately fall into conversation. Carlotta is so much like a mother figure that sometimes that aching gape in my chest after losing Mother doesn't feel so bad. It hurts every day, but good people help you live with the bad things you've faced.

"What is she muttering?" Carlotta raises a brow at Sandy, who huffs.

"The periodic table. I have to memorise the entire thing for tomorrow's chemistry test."

"You stress too much," she chastises, playfully flicking Sandy's hip with a towel. "Cooking is meant for relaxing."

"And tests are meant to be aced."

Carlotta shakes her head and moves to me, clearly giving up on my sister, who starts mumbling again. "I have been meaning to ask you something."

"Sure." I don't miss how she's dropped her voice to a whisper.

"You've just turned twenty-four, Veronica. You are in a good place. Don't you think...maybe it is time to think about marriage?"

I'm not surprised. Carlotta's been dropping hints on the subject lately. She'd probably ask my father about it too if she wasn't so terrified of him.

"Carlotta, please." I sigh. "Marriage will come once I've fallen in love."

"Is there no one you love?"

"No, and I refuse to marry a stranger in hopes of maybe falling in love with them down the road. I know that's how we do things in our familia, but I want to love and be loved."

"Ma stai scherzando?" She throws her hands up. My lips twitch.

"No, I'm not kidding you."

"The girls these days. I love you, Veronica, but you are taking for granted what your papa gave you. You have completed your studies, and you have a job. So many of the girls did not get this opportunity. Don't – what is it you people say? – "Push it?"

She pushes her palms in front of her for emphasis. I glance over her head at Sandy, who's face-planted the counter in laughter. Little turd.

"Your papa has offered many men for you to meet. It is time to become open to the idea at least."

I shift, my mood souring at her words. "It's not like I need marriage to be complete, Carlotta."

"That is not what I say. But nobody wants to be alone, and having a companion can make life beautiful."

"My life is beautiful," I argue and kiss her on the cheek. "I have everything and everyone I need."

"Stubborn girl." Though she reprimands me, a small smile gets the better of her.

Dinner doesn't take too long, and once it's ready, we dive in. Carlotta and Sandy are engrossed in some kind of argument I can't even begin to make sense of, but I'm also really distracted. I keep checking my phone in case Father sends some sort of update or message to let me know he's fine. I don't know why I expect that. He never lets me know of his whereabouts.

While we clear the table and get started on the dishes, the door to our house bursts open. I look at it expectantly but am met with disappointment when I see Sergio instead. Sergio is one of Father's most trusted soldiers and all but his right-hand man.

"Sergio?" I immediately turn the sink off and dry my hands. "Shouldn't you be with Father?"

"I'm to stay here for the night. Your father will be a while." He speaks in a tone that gives nothing away, just as he was trained to do. I hate that I can't read him.

"Should we be worried?"

"No, but I advise you to go to your rooms for the night and stay there."

Sandy's hand slips into mine as she burrows into my side. "It must be serious if Father sent you to watch after us."

Once again, Sergio gives nothing away. "Upstairs. Carlotta will finish here and then go home."

My sister and I glance at her. Carlotta offers a reassuring smile I know she doesn't feel. We have no choice but to follow orders. As much freedom as we were given, our world doesn't allow us to disobey direct orders. As long as our father is consigliere, his word trumps all. Even he couldn't protect his daughters from the mafia if we went against his words. His power ends here, in New York.

We mumble an intangible goodnight and make our way upstairs. The house is eerily silent, and it's only then that I notice the rest of the staff went home too. Our usually busy house seems silent and still. It makes me uncomfortable.

"Will you sleep in my room?" Sandy whispers.

I'm already nodding. I don't want to be alone tonight either.

I don't think either of us is up for conversation. There's barely contained panic in the entire house, and we can feel it. The familiar sounds of footsteps are missing, and the eerie silence is just that-eerie.

Sandy falls asleep pretty much as soon as we get into bed. She must be tired from studying all day. I suppose I should be tired too after spending most of my day working a shift at the hospital, but I'm wide awake. Restless. I check my phone obsessively through the night and at one point discover it's almost three in the morning. Father isn't home yet, and I have a sinking feeling in my gut, one that continues to grow. It's more than just being worried or cautious. This is different. Impending, somehow.

I wish I'd paid more attention to it.