Page 35 of Single Malt Drama
Nicolina
I’d attendedmany funerals in my twenty-six years on the planet. The first had been my grandmother’s, though it was so long ago that I wasn’t sure which of my memories were real and which I’d conjured up in my imagination after listening to stories. However, this was not the case for Joe and Rebecca Marchionni’s funeral. The horrible sadness of that day had haunted me for over two years.
Joe Jr., the oldest of the Marchionni boys, had been my first crush. Though he was ten years older than me, I’d fallen hard for the enigmatic teen at the ripe old age of six. I’d followed him around like a hungry kitten for an entire summer. When his family had returned to the United States, I begged my father to order Joe to marry me.
Two years later, Marco had told me Joe was to wed an Irish girl named Rebecca, and that they were going to have a baby. I hated her until the day I met her. Unlike the other girls the older Marchionni boys had dated, she was always kind to me.
The first time I’d walked into Saint Louis Cathedral was their wedding, the last time was their funeral. Memories of that day flooded me. Two caskets covered with white roses, three orphaned children too stunned to understand what they’d lost, five mafia bosses with tears in their eyes—mafia bosses including my uncle, Tommaso Abruzzo.
“Hey.” Marco met me outside on the pool deck and slid his arms around my waist.
Turning to face him, I whispered, “Are you all right?”
He pressed his brow to mine and closed his eyes. “No, but I will be once we find a way to make Abruzzo pay.”
“Marco…” The tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine. Justice, or revenge, worked considerably different in the mafia than in normal circles. While the Cosa Nostra believed in an eye-for-an-eye, they preferred to know and approve of said eye-gouging ahead of time. Plus, their trials didn’t operate like a court of law in the United States. Evidence often came down to hearsay and verdicts depended on who owed who favors.
His shoulders shook. “I miss him every fucking day. And Rebecca? She was innocent. The Abruzzos orphaned three children. For what? Because Joe wanted out.”
Like Gabe does now?I pulled back and met his eyes. “Did Joe tell you that?”
“No. He told Dante, and my father confirmed it.”
“And now that Gabe is pushing to leave, the Abruzzos are coming after your family again.” I wanted to call and warn my father, but I didn’t dare risk giving away my hiding place. Not to mention, he might already know Joe had wanted out, and if that was the case, he’d likely known about the hit.
“Regardless of the circumstances, the Abruzzos will answer for this.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.” I had to talk some sense into him. The last thing anyone needed was Marco getting in over his head.
“Promise me you will.” He pulled away and moved as if to kneel, but winced. “Hang on. This isn’t going the way I imagined it.”
My heart beat hard enough to crack my ribs. I pressed my hand to my chest, but nothing could stop the riot going on inside me. He’s proposing? “Marco?”
“Don’t say anything until you hear me out.” His ears turned bright red as he scooted a chair close and half knelt, half sat.
I pushed aside my feelings for him and focused on the reality of the situation. In other words, I told myself this wasn’t real. He was doing this to save me. I’d seen it a million times before, he had a terminal case of hero complex.
Marco was every girl’s dream, which was probably why he’d had so many women over the years. And he’s always sworn he’d never settle down.
The air left my lungs, and I struggled to replace it. The news about Joe Jr. was difficult for me to hear, but Marco had taken it much harder. “You’ve had a shock. This isn’t the time for—”
“This thing with the Abruzzos got me thinking. We don’t have all the time in the world to wait for the perfect moment, Nic.” He tensed his jaw. “Let me say what I need to, please.”
Is this about revenge?I had to put a stop to this before he crossed a line we couldn’t uncross. I dropped to my knees in front of him. “Marco, don’t do this.”
He furrowed his brow. “Why?”
“Because doing the right thing for the wrong reasons is wrong.”
“I can’t think of a better reason to marry someone than wanting to spend time with my best friend. So what if that happens to stop you from marrying an asshole, and stops a mob war, in the process?” He wiggled his brows. “Come on, whadya say? Marry me.”
I would have leaped into his arms and covered his face with kisses if he’d said he loved me, but he didn’t. Spending time with my best friend wasn’t the same thing. Our marriage would have an expiration date.
This was a business arrangement—a way to stop my father from forcing me into a life I didn’t want.
A chilling thought banged around in my head and fell out of my mouth. “If the Abruzzos fall, and the Marchionnis leave…which families will rise to take their places?”
Marco stared. “I don’t know.”