“Veronica, I cannot get out of the marriage.”
“Oh God,” she said, her breath hitching. “You promised me, you said there was a chance—”
“I did not promise. I said I would try.”
“Just come back here and marry me. There’s nothing your father can do to stop you.”
“My family is in a precarious financial position. I have to marry her.”
“You’re not some eighteenth-century duke. You don’t have to marry for money.”
“I will come as soon as I can. It will have to be at least six weeks. There is the wedding, then the honeymoon—”
“Stop it!” she shrieked, and Nico started wailing. “Stop talking like it’s okay that you’re abandoning us. Abandoning me with a child. Do you know how hard it is to take care of him by myself?”
“Veronica, I am sorry. I do not have any choice.” He could hear his voice rising, and he took a deep breath. “Is your mum not helping? She always seemed to want to.”
“She offers. But…”
“But?”
“What if something happens?”
“Veronica, what is going to happen? Sharon raised you and your brother. She can handle Nico for a few hours. Or even a few days.” He heard Veronica’s breathing—fast, rapid, shallow. She was worked up, far too worked up. “Have you been sleeping?” he asked.
“A little.” Her voice broke. “I miss you so much. And every time I hear a noise, I think someone’s breaking in—”
“Shh. You are safe. Nico is safe.” He hummed a few bars of an Italian lullaby that he’d sung to her or to Nico when they hadn’t been able to sleep.
She sniffed back tears several times, then she said, “I’m okay. I’m just so tired.”
“I know.” Suddenly he felt drained, as if he’d never move again. “Please, call your mum. She would love to help. You know she would.”
“You’re right.” She sighed into the phone. “You will come back, won’t you? You’re not just telling me what I want to hear?”
“I will visit. I promise, Veronica.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said before hanging up without a goodbye.
He stood there for a moment listening to the dial tone. What else did he expect? She was angry. She had every right to be.
Hers was another life Carlo had ruined. Nico’s too. Enrico slammed the receiver back into its cradle. If he was going to have any hope of a normal life again, if he was ever going to see his son on a regular basis, Carlo Andretti had to be stopped.
Preferably dead.
CHAPTER 6
Four days had passed since the incident at school, and Enrico still hadn’t called her. Should she call him?
Antonella paced around the room. She shouldn’t have to call him, yes? He should be calling her. He’d been in the wrong, and it was time he made some effort… Though he had made an effort, hadn’t he? He’d come to school to pick her up and he’d tried to help. Maybe he even had, despite her grumbling, since Arturo and his cronies had stayed away from her since then.
Bottom line: Enrico had made an effort, and she’d chided him for it. And then she’d left with Dario.
And she’d dared to accuse Enrico of sending mixed signals!
It was time to swallow her pride once again.
Sitting on the bed, she smoothed out her skirt and touched her hair, then laughed. It wasn’t like Enrico would be able to see her. She picked up the handset and placed the call, her heart pounding. Dio , she should be over these foolish nerves. The formal engagement party was in a week and a half. And here she was, with her parched mouth, clammy palms, and skittering pulse at the thought of calling the man she would be marrying soon.
It wasn’t normal.
Then again, nothing about the situation was. Sure, ’Ndrangheta families married off sons and daughters to cement alliances or settle feuds all the time. It was a common practice in Calabria.
But a strange one in the north. If they were in Calabria, her classmates would understand why she was getting married without having to be
“Oh God,” she said, her breath hitching. “You promised me, you said there was a chance—”
“I did not promise. I said I would try.”
“Just come back here and marry me. There’s nothing your father can do to stop you.”
“My family is in a precarious financial position. I have to marry her.”
“You’re not some eighteenth-century duke. You don’t have to marry for money.”
“I will come as soon as I can. It will have to be at least six weeks. There is the wedding, then the honeymoon—”
“Stop it!” she shrieked, and Nico started wailing. “Stop talking like it’s okay that you’re abandoning us. Abandoning me with a child. Do you know how hard it is to take care of him by myself?”
“Veronica, I am sorry. I do not have any choice.” He could hear his voice rising, and he took a deep breath. “Is your mum not helping? She always seemed to want to.”
“She offers. But…”
“But?”
“What if something happens?”
“Veronica, what is going to happen? Sharon raised you and your brother. She can handle Nico for a few hours. Or even a few days.” He heard Veronica’s breathing—fast, rapid, shallow. She was worked up, far too worked up. “Have you been sleeping?” he asked.
“A little.” Her voice broke. “I miss you so much. And every time I hear a noise, I think someone’s breaking in—”
“Shh. You are safe. Nico is safe.” He hummed a few bars of an Italian lullaby that he’d sung to her or to Nico when they hadn’t been able to sleep.
She sniffed back tears several times, then she said, “I’m okay. I’m just so tired.”
“I know.” Suddenly he felt drained, as if he’d never move again. “Please, call your mum. She would love to help. You know she would.”
“You’re right.” She sighed into the phone. “You will come back, won’t you? You’re not just telling me what I want to hear?”
“I will visit. I promise, Veronica.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said before hanging up without a goodbye.
He stood there for a moment listening to the dial tone. What else did he expect? She was angry. She had every right to be.
Hers was another life Carlo had ruined. Nico’s too. Enrico slammed the receiver back into its cradle. If he was going to have any hope of a normal life again, if he was ever going to see his son on a regular basis, Carlo Andretti had to be stopped.
Preferably dead.
CHAPTER 6
Four days had passed since the incident at school, and Enrico still hadn’t called her. Should she call him?
Antonella paced around the room. She shouldn’t have to call him, yes? He should be calling her. He’d been in the wrong, and it was time he made some effort… Though he had made an effort, hadn’t he? He’d come to school to pick her up and he’d tried to help. Maybe he even had, despite her grumbling, since Arturo and his cronies had stayed away from her since then.
Bottom line: Enrico had made an effort, and she’d chided him for it. And then she’d left with Dario.
And she’d dared to accuse Enrico of sending mixed signals!
It was time to swallow her pride once again.
Sitting on the bed, she smoothed out her skirt and touched her hair, then laughed. It wasn’t like Enrico would be able to see her. She picked up the handset and placed the call, her heart pounding. Dio , she should be over these foolish nerves. The formal engagement party was in a week and a half. And here she was, with her parched mouth, clammy palms, and skittering pulse at the thought of calling the man she would be marrying soon.
It wasn’t normal.
Then again, nothing about the situation was. Sure, ’Ndrangheta families married off sons and daughters to cement alliances or settle feuds all the time. It was a common practice in Calabria.
But a strange one in the north. If they were in Calabria, her classmates would understand why she was getting married without having to be
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